Like school bullies, Indian regulators torment the weak but pander to power

The rest of the world terms them bullies. In India, we call them regulators.

If this strikes you as Macaulay-esque prejudice against Indian institutions, compare the Directorate General of Civil Aviation’s (DGCA’s) capitulation in the face of IndiGo’s blackmail with the Commission on Air Quality Management’s (CAQM’s) imminent clampdown on young men and women looking to earn living by delivering goods and services for e-commerce giants using bikes bought with borrowed money.

Let us first explore the implications of the CAQM’s valiant effort to improve the quality of air in the NCR. Its Direction No 94 says, “No conventional ICE (internal combustion engine) vehicles running purely on diesel or petrol shall be further inducted in the existing fleet of four-wheeler LCVs, four-wheeler LGVs (in the N1 category – up to 3 5 tonnes) and two-wheelers with effect from 01 01.2026.” The ‘existing fleet’ referred to here are the fleets of “motor vehicle aggregators, delivery service providers and e-commerce entities”.

At first glance this would seem to exempt gig workers, who own at best a single two-wheeler of their own—not exactly a fleet. E-commerce entities also do not own fleets of delivery vehicles—they typically outsource delivery to individuals or delivery service providers, which also employ gig workers. Only transport aggregators such as Uber own at least some of the vehicles they deploy.

However, the document makes it clear that CAQM’s definition of “aggregator's fleet” explicitly refers to all vehicles operating on an aggregator's network or platform, not just those that are directly owned by the aggregator. “Aggregator” refers to a digital intermediary or marketplace for a passenger to connect with a driver for the purpose of transportation. An aggregator may or may not own its fleet.

The outcome of Direction 94 is that no one can enter the e-commerce gig workforce, including household services and food delivery, unless they own an electric two-wheeler. Can’t the industry make do with its existing roster of gig workers? Not really. Gig workers are typically young people in the early stages of their careers, so there’s plenty of churn. Given this fluidity, new workers must constantly join the workforce just to maintain its strength, let alone increase it. If every new entrant must have an electric two-wheeler, additions to the workforce will dwindle to a trickle, likely leading to a net outflow.

Why shouldn’t aspiring gig workers invest in e-bikes, you might ask. Well, e-bikes cost several times what regular bikes do, don’t yet have a robust resale market, and lack the charging infrastructure needed for frequent recharges. Batteries, the most expensive component by far, also need to be replaced every so often.

Right now, a young man moving to Delhi from a small town in Jharkhand can buy a secondhand bike to start his career. Direction 94 puts paid to that. It also prevents someone who lost their regular job from easily taking up gig work to pay their EMIs.

According to the government’s Vahan dashboard, there are more than 10 million registered two-wheelers in Delhi. Of these, about 50,000 (0.5%) are used in the delivery business, while private vehicles account for more than 99% of all two-wheelers. A Niti Aayog report titled ‘Electric Vehicles: Unlocking a $200 billion Opportunity’ said electrifying private two-wheelers had a higher priority than electrifying the delivery fleet, given their sheer numbers. In any case, were the government to offer financial subsidies to decarbonize transport, the maximum bang-for-buck would come from heavy trucks, which, according to the same report, account for only 4% of vehicles but 50% of vehicular pollution.

If Direction 94 is implemented, it will damage the NCR’s gig economy, hinder work and social mobility, and dent the finances of young workers starting their careers in an uncertain economic environment—while doing little to clean up the air in Delhi.

It would also kill fresh competition in the delivery business, potentially raise costs, and introduce significant friction into food delivery, quick commerce and e-commerce—businesses that run smoothly right now. Gig workers lack the power to fight Direction 94, so e-commerce would be disrupted and consumers affected.

IndiGo had been informed, like all other airlines, of DGCA’s revised ‘flight duty time limitations’ that curtailed the number of hours a pilot could fly without a break, especially at night, way back in January 2024. The timeline to implement the new norms had two stages, one commencing in July 2025, and the other in December.

As a low-cost airline, IndiGo runs a tight ship with few spare pilots on the payroll. To comply with the revised norms, it would have to hire plenty of new pilots. It takes 18-24 months to train a physically fit and mentally agile young man or woman to become a licensed pilot, and another couple of years and 1,500 flying hours to obtain an airline transport pilot certification, after which he or she can start flying as a copilot.

IndiGo demonstrated the chaos it could create, were it to try and implement the curtailed flying schedule without enough new pilots. The government blinked, shed tears and gave IndiGo until February to implement the new norms. The airline has learned its lesson—that it can blackmail the government again next February.

Instead of calling for an arbitrary reduction in the number of night landings per flight duty period, the regulator could have accepted the airlines’ suggestion to adopt new ‘fatigue risk management systems’ that model data to determine how many night landings could be permitted. That said, no economic agent should be allowed to subvert regulations by using its market size and capacity for disruption.

IndiGo should face tough fines and the credible prospect of being nationalized and re-privatized as separate, competing entities if it fails to comply in the future.