From Wan Agyl Wan Hassan

Last week, after the much-publicised roundtable on the Gig Workers Act, I did something most policymakers and ministries haven’t done enough of; I picked up the phone and spoke with the people who would actually be affected by this law.

I reached out to several platform operators. I asked what they really thought about the bill, beyond the polite nods and prepared talking points.

What came back was a wave of concern; some measured, some frustrated, but all real. Not one conversation felt like it was about resisting regulation. Instead, what I heard was simple: “We want this to work, but not like this.”

And that’s where we are today. The human resources ministry, in its rush to protect gig workers, may unintentionally do the opposite not out of malice, but out of a failure to follow the most basic rule of good governance: listen before you legislate.

The ministry has claimed it consulted the industry.

But when consultation becomes a formality; when the content of a bill is already fixed before stakeholders even speak, what’s the point?

Many who attended the ministry’s engagement sessions told me it felt like being briefed on a foregone conclusion. There was no iterative dialogue, no honest back-and-forth, and certainly no evidence that feedback was used to reshape the draft. Workers’ associations were splintered, freelancers had no real seat at the table, and Sabah and Sarawak were virtually absent.

Let’s be honest: this wasn’t a consultation. This was a policy announcement wrapped in a meeting. And that’s not how you design a law meant to affect millions.

We need to stop pretending that regulation is cost-neutral. Every clause in a bill has a ripple effect; especially when those clauses are vague, technical, or misaligned with how platforms actually operate.

The current draft of the Gig Workers Act includes obligations that remain undefined: What triggers a 14-day suspension? Who decides fault? What’s the mechanism for payback? Who bears the administrative cost of compliance?

One local platform operator told me the cost of integrating social protection API systems could run into six figures; money they simply don’t have. Another asked, “If I operate across four cities with 500 drivers, and I get the rules wrong, will I be penalised for trying to do the right thing?”

The answer shouldn’t be unclear but in this bill, it is. And if we’re not careful, the unintended consequence is that platforms, especially local SMEs might downscale, exit, or stop onboarding altogether. And when platforms retreat, gig workers don’t get protected and they lose income.

Let me be upfront. I’ve been one of the strongest voices questioning the need for a Malaysian Gig Economy Commission (SEGiM), now registered as “Majlis Ekonomi Gig”.

My past concerns were grounded in fears of duplication, bloated bureaucracy, and the creation of yet another commission that would regulate without real industry input.

But after witnessing how the human resources ministry handled the Gig Workers Act with limited engagement, institutional overreach, and operational blind spots; I’ve come to a different conclusion: we need SEGiM more than ever.

With the right mandate, industry representation, and scope of power, SEGiM could do what the human resources ministry alone cannot; govern the gig economy holistically. It can bridge ministries, unify fragmented regulations, and ensure that any law reflects reality on the ground, not assumptions in a meeting room.

In short, my position has evolved; not out of contradiction, but out of conviction. And I believe that pivoting based on evidence is not weakness; it’s responsible policymaking.

We’re not the first to attempt gig economy regulation. In California, blanket classification laws backfired; pushing platforms out, reducing service access, and triggering backlash from the very workers the laws were meant to protect. In Spain, rushed regulation led to worker displacement and rising informal jobs.

Compare that to Singapore, where a government-appointed advisory panel was formed before regulation involving platforms, workers, and neutral experts. Malaysia has the same opportunity with SEGiM; but only if it is properly empowered and allowed to lead.

At the recent roundtable, I was told that deputy prime minister Ahmad Zahid Hamidi made it clear: the current process lacks clarity and inclusiveness. His call for a national town hall was the first honest acknowledgement of what’s missing; trust, structure, and sequencing.

Now is the time for action. The government should formally commission SEGiM, define its scope, and instruct that no legislation be tabled until SEGIM has conducted a full, transparent, and evidence-based review with all stakeholders.

This is not about delay. This is about getting it right. Because a flawed law passed in haste won’t just affect policy; it could destabilise one of the most dynamic segments of our economy.

This isn’t just about laws. It’s about trust. It’s about livelihoods. It’s about whether we want to govern the future of work with the people who live it, or continue building policies from the top down.

The gig economy deserves better. Malaysia deserves a smarter law; not tomorrow, not next year, but only after we’ve built the right body to guide it. Let SEGiM lead. Let the deputy prime minister act. And let the human resources ministry listen finally, and fully.

Wan Agyl Wan Hassan is the founder and CEO of MY Mobility Vision, a transport think tank.

The views expressed are those of the writer and do not necessarily reflect those of FMT.