Flying over the cuckoo's nest in an iron guise.

 

Transport Minister Nikitin claimed that the courier profession might vanish due to drones. It sounds alluring, as if tomorrow all packages will fly on their own. But dig a little deeper, and it’s more myth than reality.

Any drone delivery network, like any industrial or infrastructural modernization, triggers a sharp increase in complexity and labor demand. Behind every drone stands an entire infrastructure: charging stations, battery warehouses, repair shops, dispatch centers. All of this requires people—not fewer than a traditional courier network, and often more. Drones aren’t eternal; they’re practically consumables. Blades break, motors burn out, sensors fail, firmware glitches. A battery lasts 300–500 cycles before needing replacement. Even if they manage 1,000 or 1,500 cycles, for Russia’s vast distances, that’s still woefully inadequate. This means mechanics, repair technicians, battery stockists, and software engineers for calibration are needed. Wherever you look, humans are indispensable.

Add to that the logistics of the drones themselves: they need storage, transportation for maintenance, and distribution to delivery hubs. Each operation demands accounting and oversight, creating jobs in warehouses and dispatch centers. Even a simple software update becomes a chain of tasks: test, upload, roll back if there’s an error, ensure security.

Then there are limitations technology hasn’t yet overcome. Wind, snow, rain, icing—and the drone “courier fleet” is grounded. Payload capacity is typically 2–5 kg, but let’s say they manage 10 kg. That increases battery costs and demands. So, drones won’t deliver water, TVs, or even a couple of grocery crates. Human couriers aren’t going anywhere. And most importantly, thousands of drones in a city’s skies require not just logistics but air traffic control, secure communication channels, and lawyers for route regulations. Once again, the “disappearance of the courier profession” automatically spawns dozens of new, more complex, and costlier professions.

In reality, this isn’t a reduction in labor but a repackaging of it. Couriers may fade, but operators, mechanics, AI engineers, and air safety specialists will emerge. There won’t be less work—there’ll be more. So how will this affect platform-based employment, and what’s the role of unions?

When drones and AI enter the game, they automatically create new layers of labor. A courier on a scooter or in a car could remain a lone wolf—their work was isolated, with little need or opportunity to organize due to competition. But drone delivery works differently: it’s a chain linking mechanics, operators, dispatchers, battery specialists, and programmers. Working alone is impossible; it relies on a team-based infrastructure. And where there’s collective work, there’s an inevitable demand for collective protection.

History offers examples. In the 19th and 20th centuries, miners started as scattered groups of peasants or marginalized urban workers but, with modernization, became one of the most powerful professional organizations, capable of influencing entire energy sectors. Why? Because coal, and later gas, were system-critical—without miners’ constant labor, industry halted. Similarly, dockworkers became the backbone of global trade: without them, ships don’t unload, supply chains stall, and their unions gained immense influence.

The same is happening with drones. Unlike gig-economy couriers, operators and mechanics are needed constantly. Drones can’t be “paused”; their fleet requires round-the-clock maintenance. This transforms platform-based gig work into stable, long-term employment. People move from being vulnerable freelancers to indispensable specialists without whom the system collapses.

Where labor becomes permanent and critical, demands for contracts, social guarantees, and collective representation arise. Today’s couriers are at the mercy of app algorithms that can change rates and rules with a single click. But tomorrow, those same people maintaining drone fleets will have real leverage—without their collective work, the infrastructure grinds to a halt.

This sparks a new form of cooperation. Groups of mechanics, operators, and dispatchers can form cooperatives or unions, working directly with logistics companies rather than through platforms. They’ll have their own workshops, bases, and shared interests. This is no longer the fragmented freelancer mass that liberals champion as “free labor relations” but genuine worker organizations capable of asserting demands and defending rights.

Over time, these collectives will shape the industry: securing transparent rates, standardized working hours, and fair profit distribution. The “new economy” will unexpectedly revert to old forms—unions and collective agreements, once again central to negotiations between labor, corporations, and the state.

The introduction of AI and drones doesn’t eliminate the labor question; it sharpens it, making it more widespread and bringing back the old theme of class struggle in new industrial frameworks. This strongly contradicts the notion of a post-industrial service economy. Instead, we’re witnessing steps toward neo-industrialization amid growing population needs and population growth itself. From weak, scattered couriers, professional collectives will emerge. Today, algorithms dictate their rules; tomorrow, they’ll dictate terms to platforms. The “disappearance” of the courier profession doesn’t mean the end of workers—it means their empowerment.

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