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Most construction workers, cleaners, and displaced people aren't looking to buy massive SUVs that clog up city roads. They just need a basic motorbike or a scooter to get to their shifts. A motorcycle takes up almost no space. Yet, from the wealthy cities of the Gulf to the busy streets of Southeast Asia, the very people who physically build these places are systematically blocked from simply getting around them safely.
You won't usually find a law that outright bans low-wage laborers from driving. Instead, the exclusion is quietly baked into the paperwork. Through a tangle of visa regulations and transit policies, it becomes virtually impossible for migrant workers to legally buy a vehicle, get a license, or just commute to work without the constant fear of being pulled over.
Expats vs. Migrants: The Mobility Divide
How a country treats a foreign worker almost always depends on their bank balance.
If a highly paid corporate executive or tech expat wants to drive, the process is seamless. They can easily swap their foreign license for a local one, secure car loans, and navigate the city with ease. Their presence is welcomed as valuable foreign investment.
But the laborer who mixed the concrete for that expat’s office building faces an entirely different reality. Under strict, temporary work permits, these workers are barred from registering a vehicle or even sitting for a driving exam. For refugees, it’s even worse. Lacking formally recognized state IDs, buying a cheap moped is a legal impossibility. The immigration system effectively sorts people into those who have the right to move, and those who must remain static.
A Captive Workforce
Policymakers usually defend these restrictions by citing traffic control or job preservation. But in practice, keeping workers off the road serves another, quieter purpose: it keeps them captive.
If a worker can't drive, they can't easily look for better job opportunities elsewhere. They can't integrate with the local community, and they become entirely dependent on their employers for basic transport. The host country gets the cheap labor it needs, while keeping the laborers safely isolated in distant dormitories or camps.
You often hear locals complain about migrants walking along dark highway shoulders or cycling in groups on busy roads, sometimes dismissing it as unsafe or "uncivilized." But this isn't a cultural preference; it’s survival. When transit systems don't reach their dorms and the law bans them from owning a simple scooter, they have to get to their shifts somehow. They walk on dangerous roads because they have zero other options.
The Criminalization of Daily Survival
Restricting basic movement doesn't stop people from needing to eat or work; it just forces them into legal gray zones. To buy groceries or get to a job site, many end up borrowing unlicensed motorbikes or riding without a permit. The second they do, they are vulnerable to police shake-downs, heavy fines, and a cycle of debt. They are just trying to get through the day, but the system practically forces them to break the law.
The Malaysian Context
Malaysia is a prime example of how this system operates. Here, hundreds of thousands of South Asian and Southeast Asian workers hold temporary employment passes (PLKS). They are legally permitted to build roads and staff factories, but are barred from obtaining a local driving license or registering a motorbike in their own name. They are welcome to labor, but forbidden from moving independently.
For Rohingya refugees, the situation is even more precarious. Even with official tracking efforts like the digital database (DPP) system, these tools function primarily for surveillance and security rather than integration. They don't offer any legal pathway to driving or working formally, leaving refugees stuck in a permanent legal limbo.
In a country where Islamic values shape public policy, this treatment raises serious moral questions. Islamic tradition strongly emphasizes the right of every individual to seek an honest living (rizq). Using bureaucratic hurdles to prevent vulnerable people from safely traveling to work looks a lot like zulm (injustice). The Quran explicitly commands the protection of travelers and refugees (ibnu sabil). Making basic survival unnecessarily difficult for those who have the least runs directly counter to these principles of compassion and justice.
Addressing the "Gig Economy" Concern
The usual defense for these driving bans is the fear that migrants will flood the gig economy, taking food delivery and e-hailing jobs from locals. But this argument ignores how tightly regulated digital platforms actually are today.
Look at Malaysia’s Gig Workers Act, which establishes a framework to track and register gig workers. Platforms like Grab or Foodpanda already require rigid background checks, IC registrations, and government-linked database verifications before anyone can log on to work.
Because this digital infrastructure is already active, the solution is straightforward. The government could allow migrant workers and refugees to obtain a basic driver's license strictly for personal commuting. Meanwhile, the backend of gig platforms can continue to bar anyone holding a temporary work permit or refugee registration from signing up as a delivery rider.
We don't have to choose between protecting local gig jobs and granting basic human dignity to the people who build our infrastructure. We rely on their labor every day; letting them ride a motorbike safely to work is the bare minimum we can do.