The absence of Uber and Ola in Goa isn’t due to any official government ban—it’s a product of deep-rooted economic interests, political calculations, and limited local demand. This complex reality was sharply captured in a now-viral post by IIM alumnus Lokesh Ahuja, whose breakdown has struck a chord across social media.
At the heart of the issue is Goa’s taxi ecosystem, which employs around 24,000 drivers. Most support families of four, meaning nearly 100,000 people directly depend on taxi-related income. But that’s only the beginning. Many drivers also act as commission agents, linking tourists with hotels, cruises, shops, and other services. When you consider this broader network, an estimated 200,000 Goans rely on the taxi trade for their livelihoods.
1 | 24,000 taxi drivers power Goa's streets
Most are sole earners in families of four.
That’s nearly 1 lakh people directly dependent on the taxi trade.
2 | But driving isn’t their only job
Many drivers double as commission agents—guiding tourists to hotels, cruises, restaurants, and shops.
Their income is tied to the entire tourism economy.
Double the impact: ~2 lakh livelihoods.
3 | Politics enters the driver's seat
Assume 75% of these people are voters.
That’s around 1.5 lakh votes in a state with just 12 lakh voters.
In short: more than 1 in 10 votes is connected to the local taxi network.
No politician wants to risk alienating that bloc.
4 | What about Goans themselves?
Goa has 882 vehicles per 1,000 people—four times the national average.
Most locals drive themselves.
They’re not demanding Uber. They don’t need it.
5 | So, who wants Uber?
Tourists.
But tourists don’t vote.
Lose 1.5 lakh votes. Gain zero.
That’s why no government touches it.
Will it ever change?
Maybe—when local demand rises again.
Think: aging population, smaller families, preference for convenience.
Until then, Uber stays out.
And Goa’s cab wars?
Still parked.
According to Ahuja, around 75% of those tied to the industry are eligible voters—roughly 1.5 lakh votes, which is over 10% of Goa’s total electorate. “No politician’s touching that,” Ahuja writes, explaining why successive governments have stayed away from introducing national ride-hailing apps. The electoral risk is too steep: upsetting a large, organized, vote-rich local community just to cater to tourists, who don’t vote.
Adding to the complexity is Goa’s exceptionally high car ownership rate—882 vehicles per 1,000 people, more than three times the national average. This means most locals prefer to drive themselves, creating low native demand for ride-hailing services. The main customer base for Uber and Ola would be tourists, who—again—carry no political weight.
While Goa Miles and the Goa Taxi App provide limited app-based services under government oversight, they are tailored to protect local interests. The entry of national players like Uber and Ola remains blocked—not by regulation, but by a unique blend of numbers, votes, and vested interests.
As Ahuja sums it up:
“Goa doesn’t need policy reform. It needs the math to change.”