When Transit Goes Off, the Ableism Goes On

Every time contract negotiations between transit authorities and labor unions hit a deadlock, an entire city holds its breath. Commuters start mapping out secondary routes, bracing for chaotic traffic, and checking headlines every hour to see if the region’s mobility grid is about to go dark.

I want to make one thing completely clear up front: I am unapologetically pro-worker. I support fair pay, safe working conditions, and strong labor representation. Transit operators perform demanding, high-stress work every single day, and their compensation should absolutely keep pace with the cost of living.

But when the primary tactic for winning a contract dispute relies on completely pulling buses and trains off the road, we have to stop treating full transit strikes as routine labor disputes.

We need to call a spade a spade: holding an entire region's public mobility hostage isn't just an inconvenience—plain and simple, it’s ableist.

The Human Collateral Damage

When a transit system grinds to a complete halt, who actually absorbs the blow? It isn’t the executive leadership in corporate boardrooms, nor is it the union negotiators sitting behind closed doors at the bargaining table.

The immediate fallout lands squarely on the most vulnerable people in our communities.

I rely on transit daily. While getting a driver’s license or buying a car is an option I could pursue if forced, for thousands of people I know—especially those living with disabilities, seniors, or people managing chronic health conditions—the latter is simply not an option, full stop.

For millions of residents, public transit isn’t a lifestyle preference or a green alternative to driving a personal vehicle; it is their sole gateway to survival. It is how they get to life-sustaining medical care like dialysis, pick up essential prescriptions, get to hourly jobs, and maintain basic human independence in a world that is already difficult to navigate.

When a strike halts those routes, it effectively imprisons people in their own homes. Treating the health, mobility, and livelihoods of disabled citizens as disposable bargaining chips is a profound moral failure, which to me, feels kinda disappointed considered the world we live in.

The Myth of the Rideshare "Safety Net"

Whenever transit strikes hit, the immediate reaction from comfortable commentators is almost always the same: "Why don't people just take an Uber or Lyft to where you need to go?"

That suggestion exposes a massive structural blind spot. For disadvantaged and disabled residents, app-based ridesharing is a total non-starter:

• Predatory Surge Pricing: During job actions, rideshare fares routinely surge to double or triple their normal rates. A standard $15 commute balloons into a $50 to $80 one-way trip. For someone living on provincial disability support or an entry-level hourly wage, absorbing $100+ a day in transportation costs isn't a minor annoyance—it’s a choice between getting to work or paying rent and buying food.

• The Accessibility Deficit: Even if someone could afford surge pricing, app platforms lack accessible infrastructure. Wheelchair vehicles remain practically non-existent on rideshare apps. Public transit fleets and dedicated services are purpose-built with low-floor ramps, securement systems, and trained operators. A personal sedan picking someone up at the curb cannot replace dedicated public infrastructure.

Ridesharing doesn't fill the gap during a strike; it merely converts a fundamental public utility into an expensive luxury that excludes the people who need transport the most.

Public Utilities vs. Private Industry

In the private sector, a strike pits an employer’s profit margin against a worker’s labor. If a store or factory closes, consumers take their money elsewhere. The economic pressure stays largely between the two bargaining parties.

Public transit does not work that way. It is a publicly funded, government-backed utility.

Over the last few decades, governments have actively encouraged citizens to ditch personal cars, build around transit corridors, and rely on public transportation to meet climate and urban density goals. You cannot build cities intentionally dependent on a single transit grid and then allow that grid to be switched off every time a contract expires.

Using total service disruption as leverage might be an old-school union tactic, but in a modern metropolitan area, it alienates the very public whose support organized labor needs to thrive.

A Path Forward: Updating the Playbook

Protecting public mobility doesn't mean taking away a worker’s right to fair compensation. It means updating our labor frameworks to reflect modern realities through three practical steps:

1. Pass a Public Services Protection Act: Reclassify regional transit grids alongside power, water, and emergency response as critical infrastructure. Require a mandatory baseline operating floor—such as peak-hour service maintenance—so the city's backbone never completely collapses.

2. Target Management, Not Commuters: Adopt models used successfully around the world, such as fare strikes or administrative job actions where operators run regular routes but refuse to collect fares—starving management of revenue while keeping the public moving for free. Ask the folks in Japan about how they do it. They still show up to work but refuse to take fares because over there, those services are essential. No one gets mad, life moves on, and ultimately everyone goes on with their lives.

3. Mandatory Binding Arbitration: When contract negotiations reach an absolute deadlock, shift disputes automatically to an independent, neutral arbitrator who balances fair wage adjustments against public budgets, bypassing a shutdown entirely.

The Bottom Line

We can stand up for workers getting paid what they deserve while simultaneously asserting that public mobility is a fundamental civic right.

It’s time for lawmakers, transit authorities, and union leadership to recognize that shutting down a city's transportation grid should never be on the table. A labor strategy that wins gains for workers by severing the lifelines of disabled and vulnerable citizens isn’t progress—it’s a playbook we need to leave behind.