Active Travel Directions

Back in 2006, Sustrans published a leaflet titled How to produce active travel directions for your visitors and staff.  It doesn’t seem to be on their website anymore (at least not that I can find) but I don’t know why because it’s useful and it can still be found here.

Anyway, quoting from the leaflet, the general idea is that you should:

Start with the assumption that people should not have to use a car to get to your

premises; [...]

Lay out your travel guidance in the healthiest order – start with walking and

cycling, then public transport (because there is usually a walk at each end of the

journey) and finally car travel. Of course some people will need to drive, but put

information about driving and parking last, so that the healthier ways to travel are

most prominent.

As a rule of thumb, a distance of about two miles is walkable for many people and

up to about five miles is reasonable to cycle.”

Now a common grumble amongst active travel advocates is that plenty of lip service is paid to the importance of walking and cycling but that’s where it stops: mere fine words without the buttered parsnips of effective infrastructure. I’d agree, of course of course of course, but a lot of the time we don’t even get the lip service. And that really grates – either they can’t even be bothered to mouth the words – or, more likely and even worse – they don’t even know that they are supposed to be paying lip service. And, if the message hasn’t yet got out to all well-meaning-liberal-arty-sustainability-greeny folks, then that means the whole active travel agenda has just failed, failed, failed.

So what has got this stirred up for me? Every so often – genuinely, not looking for things to get worked up about, not even thinking about active travel, with quite other of my many projects in mind – I look up the web for interesting places and interesting short courses. And, if anything catches my fancy, I look at the “how to find us” page to see if it’s practical to get there by public transport.

I found an interesting place recently, in the Cotwolds, so not too far from Bristol. Their website categorises their courses into: Arts, Sustainability, Spirituality and Wellbeing. Great – and I’m not saying that in a mocking tone – it looks a lovely place. These definitely count as well-meaning-liberal-arty-sustainability-greeny folks. There was a wood-carving course that looked an interesting way to spend a weekend. So I went to the “how to find us” page. Which consists of :

96 words on “driving” including an invitation to “contact us if you would like more detailed instructions”

62 words on “by plane” (It’s also a conference venue, so not quite as bonkers as it looks. I’ve written at tedious length about flying elsewhere.).

Sandwiched in between these two are 26 words on “By train”

And that’s it. But it is actually worse than that. Here is the whole of the “By train” section:

If coming by train, take a taxi from the Stroud train station (max. 2 miles). For hiking enthusiasts, it takes approximately half an hour by foot!

WHAT? It’s only two effing miles from the station. Have they heard of bicycles? Maybe it’s on a gigantic hill? Who knows? So bloody TELL ME. Yes, I can read a map – but then so can your driving friends you’re so eager to help. Is it in a bus desert, or have they merely not bothered to find out? And And And …. what the hell is that exclamation mark about? Two miles is not a flaming “hike”. It does not require “enthusiasm”. It’s the distance I sometimes walk to the main station in Bristol – and really it’s not that unusual, if you bother to ask.

Yes, I know this was intended to be cheerful and humorous in tone, but it completely misses the mark. It seems to say the author thinks that choosing to walk for half an hour is kind of weird.

So did I write to them?

Yes of course I did. And I wrote as politely and non-preachily as I know how, I cited some research without being too academic about it and I explained how active travel slots into the sustainability agenda. And of course I had no reply. TL;DR for one thing. Or my email is languishing in their spam folder – I sent the sustrans leaflet as an attachment, when I should have linked to it. Equally likely though, is that it’s above the pay-grade of the admin-person who answers the general email. Someone else, with whom they have no contact, authored their website and they have no power, knowledge or authority to tweak the fixed pages.

The other possibility of course, is that my letter was read, but with sheer bafflement. I tried to raise the same issue when I was an Open University tutor. In this case the instructions were “how to get a tutorial venue” (and oh, the detail and concern about parking and the complete absence of information about anything else). I was met with blank incomprehension, which hardened into impenetrable defensiveness as I tried to clarify.

At least lip-service is kind of comforting. I’ll take it as an alternative to the public implication that I’m weird.

Why haven’t I linked to the offending page?

I don’t like this aggressive internet culture and I don’t want to pick them out. It wasn’t the fault of one particular organisation – it’s just the whole damn systemic crap.

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“Driverless” cars, aka “robocars”

Just heard an item on the Today programme about this and now I’m fighting hard not to start using tiresome cliches of online comment. I’m exercising stern self control not to say “Driverless cars. Again. Sigh” or “driverless cars are the future. Yeah right”.

So I’ll just remark, mildly, that I find the tone of the reportage (not just the BBC but generally) rather interesting for its lack of awareness of what seems to me rather salient psychological aspects of the act of driving.

“Oh yes” people trill, “I’d just love a driverless car. I could work, I wouldn’t get wound up by the traffic”. I think people who imagine this to be true – that “driverless cars” would be irresistible if they are shown to be technically feasible in all real-world situations – are lacking a basic insight into the psychology of driving.

Part of the psychological hold that automobility has over us – part of the reason it got us in its grip in the first place is not its “practicality”, it is the illusion of power combined with the sensation of autonomy which it creates. It is the psychological delightfulness of driving. In my own brief experiences as a “motorist” (hawk, spit) I experienced this myself. Would I like a “driverless car”? Of course I’d like the fact that it would be less likely to cause an accident than I would, but apart from that, no. I’d rather walk or cycle which both involve the genuine and benign exercise of both skill and will.

My prediction: it could well be made to work technically – it’s a very interesting engineering challenge – but a future where “driverless cars” are the norm is a techno-fantasy which we are collectively indulging as one of many ways of avoiding the real problems we should be looking at.

Another online writing cliche: “nothing to see here, move along”.

[Added a couple of hours later:] Oh, here’s a link to the news item. I just heard on the radio that Bristol is one of the towns interested in piloting this. My response in internet speak: “Groan. Sigh. Rolls eyes.”

Promises

I still intend to finish off this blog properly … but well, whatever, y’know …

In the meantime, here is part of a comment I just left in response to Dave Horton’s latest post:

“People like – no love – bikes for similar reasons to those that create auto-love. Using a bike gives you very direct feelings of power, autonomy and access. Your envisioned Bike Society would have, in terms of happiness, equality and prosperity all the stuff that Motor Society promised, with one exception. The bike doesn’t sell as “progress”. Because the bicycle works by amplifying one’s existing body it reminds us of limits. It enforces acceptance of physical reality (even though being able to amplify one’s own strength is a truly wonderful and clever thing) whereas with the car we can hang on to the fantasy that anything at all is possible.

Perhaps another way of saying this is that, in the immediate personal act of using it, the car makes a very convincing promise to give you everything but that seductive promise cannot be fulfilled. Whereas the bike gives you less but what it does give you is real.”

Behaving like traffic – Sorry Mate I Didn’t See You

I’m cranking myself up to finish this blog, which was always intended to be a sort of year-long “writing exercise”, and I’ll be wrapping it up shortly. But here’s an anecdote I can’t resist.

I’ve talked previously about the idea that there is a sense in which we don’t “behave like drivers” or “cyclists” that we all have underlying psychological mechanicsm that mean we all “behave like traffic” – that is to say, revert to our basic bahaviour as walkers. I like to collect examples of this.

Well yesterday I saw a SMIDSY incident between two swimmers. It was at the Bristol lido which is very small and not really suitable for hyper-purposeful “training” and there are no lanes roped off or marked. Nevertheless, the few times I’ve been there recently, there are always a few people rather sternly ploughing up and down in a distinctly training-ish kind of way. Yesterday I heard a splash and then “words”. Clearly a collision had taken place and the bit of the exchange which I caught went:

First woman: I didn’t see you.

Second woman [mildly]: but you ..

First woman [getting cross]: I didn’t see you!

Second woman: but …

First woman: I DID’NT SEE YOU!

Second woman [giving up and swimming off]: oh all right then …

There is just so much deconstruction one could do with this (why did the first woman get so indignant?) but the key psychobikeological points are:

1. it is quite natural to not look where you’re going, especially when you’ve got some other purpose at the forefront of your mind

2. this doesn’t really matter if you collide with someone of equal physical heft

3. if there is a significant physical mismatch then perhaps you have a greater duty of care.

Shared space and the dangers of thinkivism (John Adams, yet again)

risk coverIn my two previous posts I outlined some of the work the UCL geographer John Adams. I count him as someone who has influenced the way the way I think about things. After reading his book Risk I was conscious of seeing the everyday world in a slightly different way – one of the highest compliments a writer of any sort can be paid.

Having already spent two posts chatting about his work, I feel obliged, for the sake of completeness, to mention that he is also associated with the promotion of the idea of shared space. I have outlined the thinking behind this in my active travel dictionary, but basically, ‘shared space’ is a variety of urban road design which attempts to harness the mechanism of risk compensation in a positive manner.

My personal conclusions about this idea is that we should most certainly think about how good psychology and real behaviour might help us in the design of the urban environment, and not just stop with ‘common sense’ and ‘stands to reason’ and ‘everyone knows’. Therefore shared space is an interesting idea which might have some potential, in certain situations. However, after getting quite excited when I first came across the idea, I now think those situations are very limited indeed. A key practical problem is that it’s all very well for academics (like John Adams) to talk about this sort of idea, and all very well for more humble thinkivists (like myself) to get excited by it, but in practice planners and highway engineers will misunderstand, oversimplify and misapply. Already have oversimplifed and misapplied. One might speculate that, at some level, planners embrace the shared space concept because it seems like a way to have one’s cake and eat it – to avoid restricting motor traffic (and not upset anyone) while at the same time rendering it less toxic (and do what they know in their hearts is right). Plus, of course, it makes them feel clever (ahem). It can’t really be done though. One of the key limitations in considering shared space is the pre-existing flux of car-traffic – attempt to use a shared space treatment where this is above a low level and what you basically have is not a natural way for everyone to get along, but a crude attempt at using pedestrians and cyclists as human traffic-calming.

The wider idea of risk compensation itself requires a certain alertness as regards its practical implications. It’s easy for the whole thing to become crudified into a sort of quietism – what’s the point of trying to make anything safer, people will just find a way round it, and we’ll end up with a load of objectionable legislation and bossiness, nanny state, blah blah blah. If you haven’t already seen it, Joe Dunckley has a recent blogpost where he lambasts Simon Jenkins for doing exactly that (see also the comments left by both myself and Robert Davis). “Quietism” is putting it politely though. Leave aside transport for a moment and consider an activity such as the construction industry: notorious for its bad safety record and mistreatment of employees. It would be very much in the interests of the people with the power to give work to have as little care for the safety of their workers as they could get away with and here’s the perfect justification, there’s nothing we can do anyway! Except that of course there are ‘things that can be done’ – just be aware that behaviour changes in response to changes in the environment (and also be aware of power imbalances).

My own personal line is that it is hubristic to imagine that one can ‘make the world a better place’ (the world will turn out to be ungrateful for your offer) but an entirely practical ambition to ‘make the world a bit less bad than it otherwise would have been’ (the world will accept your helping hand without thinking about it).

Anyway, enough of that, I’m getting silly now.

Inactivity, cost-benefit analysis, risk compensation (more John Adams)

In my previous post I outlined a well-known argument about hypermobility presented by the geographer John Adams. He’s a very readable academic whose work has been in areas that interest me and when I first came across him I read through pretty much all of the
articles
and letters available on his website.

Walking-and-cycling advocates will probably already know of Adams because he was the co-author (with Mayer Hillman and John Whitelegg) of one false move; a study of children’s independent mobility. This substantial bit of research is the origin of the figure that, in 1971 80 per cent of seven and eight year old children were allowed to go to school without adult supervision but by 1990, this figure had fallen to 9 per cent.

But he goes waaaayyy back beyond this. One of the earliest (1970) pieces in his archive discusses ‘london’s third airport’. Yes, this airport capacity business has been going on that long (I was only around eleven at the time but I remember that it was all over the newspapers). Adams produced a tongue-in-cheek suggestion that, never mind Foulness or Cublington, the ideal location – the right size and with links already in place – is Hyde Park. Parody is always a bit of a gamble – even prior to the internet. Adams’ reductio ad absurdam of planning priorities was written about in The Times and the newspaper then received and printed a genuine letter from a retired air-vice marshall which heartily applauded such a logical location for a London airport and pointed out that he himself had made the very same recommendation in 1946. Adams relates this in a later essay about cost benefit analysis which is worth reading because this kind of issue is very much still with us. (He takes another, shorter swing at COBA in the article Vogon economics and the hyperspatial bypass)

None of the above is particularly contentious to anyone of a vaguely green disposition, but when he gets on to road safety things start to heat up because he is a seatbelt sceptic. Now that just sounds like a bit of wilful and ridiculous contrarianism, but hang on because this is interesting.

To begin, let’s be clear about what exactly it is he’s doubting. If you are in a car crash, wearing a seatbelt will increase your chance of surviving. Nobody is sceptical of that – it is supported both by evidence and common sense. So if everything else remained equal – same behaviour, same number of accidents, same kind of accidents – then seatbelt legislation really would save lives. Adams is suggesting that everything else did not (and could not) remain equal; daft as it initially sounds, some safety interventions might increase the likelihood of accidents even as they decrease the severity of their consequences.

The argument has two strands. The first is that the aggregate evidence does not support the almost universal assertion that the introduction of compulsory seatbelts has ‘saved lives’. This is quite astonishing because this claim is frequently made, usually quantified and has itself become part of accepted common sense. This part of the Adams’ argument is fairly detailed and before dismissing it you should perhaps read the full account or a more recent and shorter version, because the statistics are persuasive. Broadly, seatbelt legislation was enacted in almost all countries against a background trend of already decreasing road accidents (see fig. one here).

Now I know what you’re thinking, and to be honest I’m feeling slightly embarrassed about the previous paragraph. I might easily be mistaken for one of those shouties who leave comments on blogs that go: “Evolution/Global warming/Environment. It’s all a scam !!! As proved by this long list of badly informed links!!!”. Or worse, a clever-clever contrarian who will present smart-arse arguments against decent things just for the intellectual fun of it. I’ve just waved my hands and said ‘read this’. There’s no reason you should do so. I mean, what do I know? Not very much I’m happy to admit, but a point to note is that Adams’ argument about seatbelt efficacy is not rocket science and only needs some basic experience of statistical thinking to follow. Anyway, let’s argue about this some other time shall we? If we just provisionally assume that Adams has made a case worth considering, how does he account for this?

The second strand of the argument concerns risk compensation. This is the idea that safety benefits have a tendency to be consumed as performance benefits. The full arguments runs:

  • We all have a preferred level of risk – life has uncertainties built in, some people tolerate or even enjoy a higher risk than others and all risks are taken because of a perceived benefit – even a tiny one such as the slightly greater convenience of crossing the road away from an offical pedestrian crossing.
  • Interventions which are intended to make certain activities safer, can sometimes change how we perceive the riskiness of that activity
  • In order to maintain our preferred level of risk we will change our beahviour – for example it feels safer to drive faster with a seatbelt.

Adams calls this the ‘risk thermostat’. There seems to be gradually accumulating experimental evidence in its faviour.

The overall effect of the seatbelt law, claims Adams, is not to reduce danger but to redistribute it:

“The evidence from Britain, which has been singled out as the only jurisdiction in the world in which it is possible to measure fatality changes directly attributable a seat belt law, suggests that the law produced no net saving of lives, but redistributed the burden of risk from those who were already the best protected inside vehicles to those who were the most vulnerable outside vehicles”

The downward trend in accidents which was already present in all countries before the enactment of a law is interesting for a second reason. Almost by definition, ‘developing’ countries came late to the motorization party, so that when their citizens started to acquire cars, the cars which they bought were advanced – developing countries didn’t have to start afresh with the model-T – and came with various technological safety features. So if it were a question of technology alone, these newcomers should start with an accident rate which is close to the already-developed countries. This doesn’t seem to happen, which suggests that there is an element of learning. To be exact, pedestrians and cyclists have to learn to keep out of the way.

“the long-term decrease in death rates .. is much more plausibly attributable to myriad behavioural adjustments in response to the increases in the threat of traffic”

That suggestion is by no means unique to John Adams, but it is a hard one to swallow. Over the years a great deal of effort and ingenuity have gone into safety devices, and it seems almost insulting to say that they haven’t worked as well as hoped. Not only that, but that ‘road safety’ has increased the amount of unfairness in the world. (And btw, if you’re still reeling at the thought of anyone being a seatbelt sceptic, I will stress that the argument is NOT that you personally will be safer without a seatbelt in a context in which everyone else wears one).

It is this type of argument that sits behind the way that some transport thinkers refer to ‘the road safety industry’. I agree that this seems a very shocking way to talk if you don’t know what lies behind it. It’s not that these people are cavalier about making the roads safer, and the term road danger reduction has been coined (by Robert Davis) to capture the idea that taming and reducing motor traffic is the way to do this. In contrast, ‘road safety’ regards motor traffic as a sort of force of nature that our public policy should accomodate and defer to.

Anyway, dear imaginary reader, make of this what you will, but I thought you might find it interesting because this is not the sort of thing you usually get to hear about – even on BBC4. I have a bit more to say about John Adams but I’ll leave that for the next post.