This article is based on the insights and statistics shared by the author on his social media platform.
In any society driven by economic imperatives, the precarious relationship between labour and survival often becomes obscured by the urgency of productivity. This tension is particularly evident in sectors where human lives are bound to the wheels of commerce—literally, in the case of vehicle rental services in Sri Lanka. Within this industry, drivers are increasingly subjected to exploitative practices that prioritize profit over safety, putting not only their own lives at risk but also those of the passengers who entrust their well-being to these individuals. The escalating demand for transportation services has led to an alarming trend—one where exhaustion and fatigue are silently woven into the fabric of everyday life, with catastrophic consequences waiting in the wings.
Consider the role of the van or bus driver—individuals who are often forced to endure grueling hours behind the wheel to satisfy both the economic pressures placed on them and the high expectations of passengers. A driver may begin his day before dawn, and by the time he reaches his destination, hours later, exhaustion sets in, yet the cycle continues. The demands of the job are not simply about driving from point A to point B but about pushing one’s physical limits, to the detriment of personal health and safety. This is not merely a matter of tiredness; it is a matter of life and death.
In Sri Lanka, the tourism industry and the rise of domestic travel have contributed to an ever-growing demand for private transportation. However, this demand comes at a price: long hours, little rest, and a disregard for the basic principles of safety. The tragedy is that, despite the very real dangers of fatigue, the business model remains centred around maximising profit rather than addressing the human cost of this relentless cycle. A lack of sufficient regulation only exacerbates the issue, leaving drivers vulnerable to systemic exploitation.
A recent personal experience highlighted the extent of this issue. During a trip to Mahiyanganaya for a CSR initiative at the University of Colombo, we had to leave at 4 a.m. The driver, whose fatigue was palpable, was heading back to Kandy after dropping us off. He explained that he had another group to pick up at 4 a.m. the next day. The sheer impossibility of the schedule was lost on those who set it, as well as on the driver who, though exhausted, had no choice but to comply. It was an unsettling reminder of the frailty of human life when it is forced to operate on the edge of exhaustion for the sake of survival.
The fatal flaw in this equation is the complete disregard for rest. We, as passengers, often fail to realise that when drivers are overworked, they are not simply pushing the limits of their endurance—they are also endangering our own lives. The relentless pressure to perform, coupled with the pervasive culture of inhuman work hours, forces drivers to drive while fatigued, often in a state of near-sleep. The risk of accidents escalates dramatically when drivers are operating in this state, and it is only a matter of time before tragedy strikes.
One cannot ignore the broader social and economic implications of this scenario. In Sri Lanka, the structural conditions that allow such exploitation to thrive are deeply ingrained in both public and private sectors. Passengers often fail to recognise that their convenience comes at the direct expense of another’s well-being. Furthermore, the relentless pursuit of profits in this industry has created a vicious cycle, where drivers are often trapped in an exploitative system, with little recourse for change.
This culture of overwork is not new. In the past, rest stops and regulated driving hours provided a safety net for those whose livelihood depended on travel. These safeguards, however, have eroded in the face of modern demands, leaving drivers vulnerable and exhausted. The rise of domestic tourism and the increasing number of tourists seeking to explore Sri Lanka’s picturesque locales has intensified this demand, but without corresponding improvements in driver welfare or road safety standards.
The tragic reality is that every long-distance driver in Sri Lanka who continues to work beyond his capacity is gambling with his life—and the lives of those who travel with him. Whether it’s the tired bus driver making a 12-hour journey or the van driver pushing himself to complete multiple trips in a single day, the risks are undeniable. The true cost of this relentless drive for profit is not just the physical and mental toll it takes on the driver, but the inevitable accidents and fatalities that occur as a result of exhaustion.
This issue should not be seen merely as an operational challenge but as a matter of social justice. Drivers must be given the space to rest, recover, and prioritise their well-being. Regulations that ensure adequate rest periods, enforced break times, and a reduction in excessively long shifts are crucial in mitigating the risks posed by fatigue.
To those of us who travel in these vehicles, it is imperative to understand that we too bear responsibility in this equation. While we may not be the ones behind the wheel, our choices—such as prioritising convenience over safety or tolerating exploitative practices—contribute to the continued cycle of exploitation.
Therefore, the next time we board a vehicle, whether for a long trip or a short one, we must remember the true cost of that journey. It is not simply the fare we pay but the price of human lives at risk. A small gesture—a word of encouragement, an insistence on stopping for a break, or ensuring that drivers are well-rested—can make all the difference. After all, no journey is worth the sacrifice of life.
If we are to change this culture, it starts with recognising the inherent value of every life on the road. Share this message. Because in a world where every life is precious, it is up to us to ensure that it is not the price of the journey.
