Must we automate this too?
When Uber and WeRide rolled out fully driverless robotaxis across parts of Abu Dhabi last month, it was framed as a technological milestone: greater efficiency, lower emissions, and the promise of safer streets. Naturally, the headlines celebrated the first commercial, driverless robotaxi fleet in the Middle East, complete with talk of rapid expansion across new zones and cities.
But beneath all that glamor (The sensors! The polished ads! The “future is here” messaging!) there’s a quiet truth not talked about enough. Automation and robotics slowly chip away at the kind of work that has always given people purpose. And it’s not just about cab drivers losing trips. It’s about how automation keeps creeping into spaces that once relied on human instinct, judgment, presence, and yes, even care. If we cheer every rollout of autonomous tech without pause, we risk building a future where people are paid less for their humanity and more for the privilege of consuming automated services.
The economic impact
Considering the economic impact is the simplest place to start. Taxi and ride-hail drivers—whether in Abu Dhabi, New York, or Mumbai—aren’t just wage-earners; they’re the backbone of a global gig economy. And automation of their trade will follow a familiar pattern: a handful of cars in the beginning, then a bigger fleet, then cheaper rides, and before you know it, robotaxis dominate the roads while human-driven shifts quietly fade away. Uber’s Abu Dhabi launch is one more step in a global push from Dallas to Saudi mobility corridors to make driverless fleets a default feature of city transport. And every step in that direction means displacement for drivers, dispatch workers, and the countless micro-jobs built around the transportation ecosystem.
But driving has never just been about turning a wheel or watching a meter tick, has it? Drivers read the mood. They comfort anxious passengers. They help with luggage. They know the shortcuts, the unsafe lanes, the quieter roads at night. These small acts of judgment and kindness don’t show up in metrics or dashboards, but they shape the quality of the ride—and, in places like New York City, the texture of a city itself.
When we automate driving, we’re not just swapping people for machines. We’re handing over our everyday decisions to systems we don’t see and can’t question. And slowly, a ride stops being a human interaction and becomes a transaction. A city stops being a living network and becomes a grid of routes. Streets become a little colder; a little less alive.
Fairness and ethics
There’s also a question of fairness and ethics that Big Tech tends to gloss over. Automation often hits those who have the least ability to absorb the blow—migrants, people who rely on flexible hours, and families surviving off daily gig income. But the fallout doesn’t end with individual workers. When thousands of people lose steady work at once, cities feel it too; unemployment rises, social-welfare programs stretch thin, public housing wait-lists grow, and local economies lose spending power. What looks like efficiency on a corporate balance sheet can translate into higher government costs, stressed community services, and neighborhoods slipping into uncertainty. Tech companies celebrate innovation, investors celebrate scale, while somewhere in the middle, real people could end up losing the stability that kept their households afloat. If we don’t plan for them—with retraining, safety nets, or meaningful alternative jobs—we’re choosing convenience over compassion, sustainability, and progress. And the consequences of that choice don’t stay invisible for long.
Of course, the benefits of driverless fleets are real: fewer accidents, potentially cheaper rides, maybe lower emissions. I work at a tech company—I'm all about progress. But right now, it seems the benefits of robotaxis go only to the companies that own the fleets and not to the workers whose livelihoods will quietly evaporate.
Investing in people, too
Uber’s driverless cabs in Abu Dhabi are, undeniably, an engineering milestone. But milestones aren’t neutral. They reflect choices about the kind of world we, as innovators and consumers, want to live in. Is it a future where everything is automated and humans are slowly nudged to the sidelines? Or, will we choose a future where technology exists to support humans—not erase the need for them?
I don’t know about you, but I don't want to end up in a world where the only thing left for us to do is consume whatever automated systems hand out. If we’re serious about building a future that protects human purpose, then cities, companies, and policymakers need to invest just as aggressively in people as they do in technology—with retraining, resources, and new kinds of work that keep humans at the center of progress.