Grow Movement Like A Tree

Asian Labor Futures Weekend Edition. Lessons from Indonesian and South Korean Riders*

(Photo by Shu Qian on Unsplash)

Dear friends,

Earlier this year, I spoke with two rider organizers from countries with deep militant labor traditions: Kim Ji-su of the South Korean Rider Union and Raymond J. Kusnadi of Indonesia's Serikat Pekerja Angkutan Indonesia (SPAI).

At first glance, their struggles look alike—dynamic economies, vibrant civil societies, and riders organizing against hostile institutions. But the contrasts run deep: Korea's centralized labor movement versus Indonesia's fragmented grassroots terrain. Both, however, are pushing at closed doors, carving out cracks where new worker power can grow.

In this weekend edition, I reflect on our conversation through the lens of my own experience—more than half a decade working alongside the riders' movement.

*rider is the term couriers and delivery workers across Asia use to describe themselves. You can read the full interviews here and here.

Building Strength in Precarious Sectors

When we think about workers' achievements, we tend to picture massive strikes, explosive protests, or decisive legal victories. But movements are more like plants than animals—they grow slowly, often beneath the surface, almost imperceptible to the eye. Organizers and rank-and-file workers spend long seasons pushing through hard ground, sometimes losing members like old leaves, enduring periods of dormancy, and sprouting new growth when conditions finally turn favorable. The work can feel like circling in place—until suddenly, conditions shift, as with the recent passage of Korea's amendment to the Trade Union and Labor Relations Adjustment Act, also known as the "Yellow Envelope" bill.

Kim Ji-su describes the work of the South Korean Rider Union, a member organization of the Korean Public Service and Transport Workers' Union (KPTU), as creating "cracks"—small openings in rigid institutions where new forms of activism can take root. Between my first meeting with Ji-su in late October and our follow-up conversation in June, the union had grown from just a few thousand members to more than 10,000. This has been a result of new strategies of building alliances with the self-employed, running neighborhood-based campaigns, and deliberately insisting that leaders remain on the road alongside members.

With Korea’s most recent legal reform, two major changes stand out: the expansion of the definition of “employer” and the scope of labor disputes and industrial actions. Subcontractors—and potentially platform workers—can now engage in collective bargaining with indirect employers who were previously excluded under the old framework. At the same time, labor disputes may now extend to management decisions that affect “working conditions,” broadening the grounds for collective action.

Raymond J. Kusnadi, advocacy coordinator of Indonesia's SPAI, frames the Indonesian fight differently: in terms of recognition. Like the South Korean Rider Union though, SPAI secured its legal status by registering as "transport workers," forcing the state to acknowledge riders as more than "partners." That recognition became the basis for one of their most important victories: winning the Bonus Hari Raya (Eid bonus) for riders, a benefit once reserved for formal employees. Modest as it was, the bonus cracked open the possibility that riders deserve parity with other workers.

The contrast is also there. Ji-su is breaking ground inside a labor movement that is entrenched, even institutionalized, requiring him to carve out new space and methods within a long tradition. Raymond, by contrast, organizes in Indonesia where representation is fragmented and contested, and unionism itself is more of an ideal than a lived reality. These different terrains shape not just what is possible, but what organizing and strategy look like.

Both leaders face the same dilemma: how to build power in a sector defined by precarity, misclassification, and the myth of independence. For Ji-su, the answer lies in broadening solidarity outward, linking riders with communities and marginalized groups. For Raymond, where workers' institutional leverage is weaker, the path runs through public opinion—winning societal recognition that riders are workers, full stop.

What unites these strategies is the central role of society and broader support. In Korea, the Rider Union reaches younger riders and supporters through social media and neighborhood ties. In Indonesia, SPAI works with journalists and academics to dismantle the "partner" myth. Stories, once told and retold, become scaffolding for solidarity.

Taking Root and Weathering the Seasons

Neither movement is reshaping platform activism overnight. Their work looks more like a rhizome—spreading laterally, underground, multiplying nodes of connection that may appear fragile but prove resilient. Mutual aid funds, local alliances, small legal precedents, and modest bonuses: each is a shoot breaking the surface, evidence of a deeper root system forming out of sight.

As with plants, growth is slow but steady with constant care. Sometimes it looks like standing still or hybernating, but sometimes growth bursts unexpectedly into bloom. Over time, the rhizome expands, drawing strength from the surrounding ecosystem of support. That is how movements endure: not in one dramatic season, but through steady, patient growth that makes new life possible. And when that growth finally breaks through—when the rhizome has spread wide and deep enough—that's when the life-sustaining ecosystem is built.

Until next time,

Kriangsak (Kiang)