In some sense, I too felt the drivers were fighting an unstoppable force. On my last day, I contemplated getting a taxi to the airport, but the prospect of dragging my luggage a few blocks to the taxi stand to pay two or three times the fare wasn't appealing. I felt bad — then I ordered a Grab.
My driver was a 20-year-old university student studying hospitality named Made. His father had been a taxi driver for decades in Bali, but had taken up with Grab as soon as it launched. His father had encouraged him to drive when he wasn't studying so he could earn some money and practice his English with tourists.
Made's father was invested as anyone in Bali's banjar system — he had established the taxi co-op in Jimbaran, a fishing village south of Kuta. But his father sold his car in 2014 because he was tired of the headaches and payoffs that came with the system. When Grab arrived in 2015, his father bought a new car and started driving again. In his father's eyes, Made said, ride-sharing apps leveled the playing field.
When Made was old enough, his father showed him the unspoken banjar territorial lines that dictate where he could and couldn't pick up passengers. Most ride-sharing drivers, he said, respect the banjar lines, but arguments still happen from time to time.
Besides, he said, the half of taxi drivers whose cars were new enough to be eligible for ride-sharing — apps usually won't allow cars older than 5 or 10 years — now work for the apps. The rest, he said, are just angry that they aren't eligible.
At the time, Made's explanation assuaged my guilt over using Grab. But now, looking back, it seems that when it comes to the question of which locals benefit, it's the ones that have more money — enough for a newer car — that are getting paid. Those from the poorer banjars — 35% of Balinese live below the poverty line — are the ones getting screwed.
Given Westerners' expectation of technological convenience, it's unlikely that will change anytime soon.