Crossings
Early in the recent season of Endeavour, Chief Superintendent Reginald Bright (so deftly played by Anton Lesser) is seen explaining a ‘Pelican Crossing’. The scene ends with him standing with a pelican on a street crossing, advising children as to how this new system will help them safely cross the road. The scene is bitter sweet: CS Bright is doing a great job, but you know he has been moved from his position as the head of a major police station to a relatively minor role looking after traffic police (one of several lateral moves following a young detective’s murder and a regional reorganisation at the end of the previous series).
This isn’t the time to offer a commentary on British television (and I lack the skills so to do), but it did make me think about crossing the road. Assiduous research has revealed that the Pelican Crossing was originally named Pelicon as an abbreviation of ‘pedestrian light-controlled crossing’, but Pelicon slipped into Pelican in no time at all. In due course this theme continued with the Puffin Crossing, The Toucan Crossing, and the Pegasus Crossing. OK, I can understand this may be a little overwhelming, so let’s go back to the beginning.
The first known road crossings for pedestrians are claimed to be around 2,000 years old and can be seen in the ruins of Pompeii. [i] Those crossings comprised blocks raised on the road to allow pedestrians to cross the street without having to step onto the road itself, which also provided Pompeii’s drainage and sewage disposal system. The spaces between the blocks allowed horse-drawn carts to pass along, avoiding the bumps in the road. [ii] I guess you kept away from the road when wagons splashed past!
Eventually British ingenuity took over, albeit many centuries later. Wikipedia reveals the first pedestrian crossing signal for which records exist was erected in Bridge Street, London, in 1868. John Peake Knight, a railway engineer, devised a way to allow pedestrians to safely cross the road. “The signal consisted of a semaphore arm (manufactured by Saxby and Farmer, who were railway signalling makers), which was raised and lowered manually by a police constable who would rotate a handle on the side of the pole. The semaphore arms were augmented by gas illuminated lights at the top (green and red) to increase visibility of the signal at night. However, in January 1869, the gas used to illuminate the lights at the top leaked and caused an explosion, injuring the police operator. No further work was done on signalled pedestrian crossings until fifty years later.” [iii]
It was the appearance of cars which alerted the British to a new and terrible form of slaughter on crossings about to be unleashed on the the young, the old, well, on everyone in fact! Action was required. I can’t explain why what follows reads like a trip round the zoo, but there we are. The first innovation to appear in the UK was the Zebra Crossing, comprising wide white longitudinal stripes on the road, perpendicular to foot traffic. At each end of the zebra crossing, was a flashing amber ball on top of a white pole. Known as a Belisha Beacon (obviously) it was only recently the balls were replaced by cylindrical orange LED lights. I suppose you are wondering about the name: they were named after Leslie Hore-Belisha, the Minister for Transport in 1934, who introduced this innovation. I know, you need more: it really was the name of the minister, and the minister was a man (this is England, after all!).
Once started, British ingenuity could not be stopped. The problem with the zebra crossing was that it relied on the good sense and diligence of vehicle drivers. A much more effective approach was to control crossing points using traffic lights. In 1962, the Panda Crossing was introduced. Why Panda; another black and white animal, perhaps? On this, I can’t improve on the summary from Wikipedia: “The layout was superficially similar to a traditional zebra crossing … [but] the panda road pattern was different (triangles rather than stripes) and the beacons were striped, not plain. The main additions were the light signals on the beacon poles. The traffic signals consisted of two lamps, red and amber, while the pedestrians had a single signal displaying the word “Cross” when appropriate. In the idle state, no lights were lit. A pedestrian wanting to cross would press a button on the beacon pole and be instructed to wait by an illuminated sign near the button.” The system provided a pause between each crossing cycle in order to avoid traffic delays, and so a pedestrian might wait a while before anything happened. “The amber traffic light would pulsate for a few seconds to inform motorists that someone was about to cross; a red light was then the signal to stop. At this point, the pedestrians’ “Cross” signal began to flash. After a few seconds, the “Cross” light started to flash faster and the red traffic light was changed to a flashing amber (this “flashing” phase was considered [clearly] distinct from the initial “pulsating” amber light). The “Cross” light flashed increasingly fast as crossing time ran out, and the traffic was allowed to proceed during the flashing amber phase if the crossing was clear. Eventually, all lights were extinguished as the crossing reset.” [iv] (Please note: there may be a test on this later).
Any fool could see this was inadequate. Who can tell the difference between ‘flashing’ and ‘pulsing’? Animals were abandoned, and the Pelican Crossing appeared in 1969. This introduced two key changes. First, instructions as to whether to wait or cross were removed from the operational button and placed on poles on each side of the road, so aligned asto face the waiting pedestrian. Second, the traffic light sequence changed. In the UK, traffic lights had always followed the same sequence: red (for stop), red and amber (for prepare to depart), green (for go), and finally amber alone (prepare to stop, or stop, but only when safe to do so). With these new crossings, the sequence was amber (stop if you can), red (stop), flashing amber (remain stopped unless there is no-one on the crossing, at which time you might proceed ‘with caution’) and green (go). Fifty years later, motorists are still flummoxed by the flashing amber light, despite educational songs by the cast of Dad’s Army and others: “When the green man’s flashing and the amber too, this is what you’ve got to do” etc.
Once the British get going, they can’t be stopped. A perceptive observer in the Ministry of Transport raised concern over the time wasted when vehicles remained stopped long after a sole pedestrian had crossed (Pelican Crossings worked on a fixed time cycle once the system was activated). There was also the annoyance of an individual who pressed the button, and then gave up waiting, with the result that no-one crossed the road when the red light had stopped vehicles. We all love Puffins, and so the Puffin Crossing came in (I am sure you guessed the bird choice was because these were “Pedestrian User-Friendly INtelligent (sic)” crossings – kind of obvious, really). The control system and lights for the pedestrian were on the same side of the road as the would-be crosser: this allows the system to ensure there was a person waiting (using a sensor in the light system) before the traffic light system began to turn to red. Also, the light moved back off red as soon as the system noted there was no-one on the crossing. The pulsing amber light stage was abandoned, reverting to a steady amber.
Birds triumphant, time for the next variation. This was the Toucan Crossing. Can you guess what this was for? It was so two kinds of crossing were possible – on foot, or on a bicycle. In fact, the two can cross at the same time: oh, those British! I’m afraid they then got a little carried away and introduced the Pegasus Crossing. I suppose the clue was in the name. We have moved beyond birds and animals we know and love and on to mythical creatures. This was for people on horseback: before you ask, yes, the button was higher, allowing the rider to activate the system without dismounting (or in flight?). I wonder if more crossing systems are being planned. Perhaps a Mercury Crossing, for bike couriers, with a very short crossing time. Or a Zeus Crossing that projects a canopy over those crossing when the weather is stormy, giving protection from rain and lightning. Finally, the Bee Crossing, which is height activated, and stops tall vehicles like double decker buses when drones are trying to cross …
There are so many other fascinating elements of road crossings. I am particularly fond of the ‘Scramble’, a less than ideal but evocative name for the arrangement where two major roads intersect. Here, as one part of the traffic light cycle, there is a time when all lights are red. At this moment, you can cross from any corner to any other corner, with diagonal paths across the intersection marked out with the same white lines as those indicating the more conventional crossing points. A scramble? Yes, all too true, as there is only just enough time to walk across the middle of the intersection to get to a point on the other side before the lights change. Scramble across before any cars or other vehicles can get to you!
I would love to go on to crossing systems in other countries: the USA, Europe, India and China all have very interesting alternatives and I could spend pages on national variations, but for now I’ll stick with the UK. As I see it, road crossings speak to more than people and cars. They tell us about the relationship between a government and its citizens, and about how we think about ‘crossing over’: these underlying issues are common worldwide.
There was a time when pedestrians and drivers shared a common world, one in which the Highway Code was read, absorbed and followed by (almost) everyone. Pedestrian crossings were marked by wide white stripes on the road, cars approached them cautiously, and those seeking to cross were careful, waiting until the road was clear, confident vehicles had a clear and safe stopping distance. It was a world in which we were part of the same community, safety a shared concern. From the age of five, I used to walk to school alone as a child, crossing a major road using the zebra crossing, safe beneath the flashing Belisha beacon.
It worked well in the post-war years. But then the caring state (the ‘nanny state’ as Prime Minister Thatcher was to describe it) became less embracing. After a brief flirtation with Pandas, the Pelican crossing gave control back to the individual. You could switch on the traffic lights at the crossing, and cars waited at your behest. Power to the people!
Such a situation had a limited life. While the road crossers went about their business, another change was taking place. Pressure group politics was taking over from citizen representation. Motorists hated the Pelican Crossings: pedestrians controlled them, and cars could be held hostage by a six-year old’s itchy finger. Many addled drivers couldn’t understand why the amber light kept flashing – a problem still evident if you watch confused drivers in the central area of London, cars stopped at the lights while others impatiently honk at them. You can go when it’s flashing (if there’s no one on the crossing) can you? Or can’t you?
The pendulum swung the other way, and now the pedestrians were the ones being watched. The Puffin put the pressure back on to the pedestrian to conform, and reduced crossing time and wasted light changes. Somehow it was obvious what would happen next. Different forms of crossing have proliferated. Pedestrians and drivers are recommended to proceed with extreme caution, but they don’t. Instead, both sides now see the situation in terms of a conflict: cars are determined not to stop, and pedestrians are determined to cross. Following the law has deteriorated into “getting away with it”. That is where we are today: the rule of law has weakened: looking after yourself is the most important issue. Individualism rules.
What has this meant for road safety. Overall, the UK has seen a decline in road fatalities in the past twenty years. However, the figures contain some interesting facts. Pedestrian fatality rates have remained almost constant (a quarter of road deaths, 90% not at crossings), but for car drivers they have declined (though they account for 44% of the total). Examining the distance travelled, the figures are particularly stark – pedestrians are twenty times more likely to die in a road accident than car passengers (per million miles travelled). The other two vulnerable groups are cyclists and motor cyclists (the latter having the worst death rate of all). Have Pelicans, Puffins and other faunal systems helped? A little, but not as much as improvements in car safety features, reducing the risk of occupants’ death or serious injury.
Crossings are also a metaphor for transitions. To cross over is to go from one state to another, and to do so is both a personal and a communal event. A few years ago, Linda and I were in San Gimignano for a concert, which turned out to be woefully below expectations. We left at the interval and walked out into the Piazza del Duomo. It was packed, a wedding was about to take place. We decided to watch, and a couple of older ladies moved to make some space for us on a low wall. It was obvious much of the ceremony was designed for the villagers, not just for the bride and groom. One highlight (among many) was to watch them drive around the square twice, waving to us all from an open top farmer’s truck! Bride and groom were in the process of becoming husband and wife; two people were changing their status with and in the community. To our delight, we were happily included in the process.
Now there is a trend for weddings to become exclusive rather than inclusive. While many people still get married surrounded by family and friends in their local church or registry office, some opt for exotic locations, photo opportunities in idyllic or even esoteric places. They spend big, and technology becomes more important. These aren’t transitions (aided by the equivalent of pelicans or puffins), they are occasions marked by selfies, videos, and a team of photographers capturing every moment. At once recent wedding I attended, guests were told not to take photographs until the ceremony was over as this would impede the official photographers. When we went outside, it was to discover the newly married couple and close family had been whisked away for a continuing photo shoot. Wedding albums and videos are important, but the emphasis is on picture perfect representations, and often many of the photographs are taken days beforehand in carefully chosen settings. Now the transition is all about the couple, and the ‘community’ is pushed into the background.
Transitions, like crossings, have become personal matters, yet another sign of the declining importance of the community in our lives. We don’t respect others at a road crossing, we look for way to pursue our personal agenda, whatever the cost to the other road users. I want to cross, you stop for me. Changing status in society has also become personal and private: it’s my business what I do, and it is my business if I chose to get married. If Margaret Thatcher and others decried the nanny state, now the process is complete: as individuals, we are always griping about the ways in which the state tries to control our lives. No chief superintendent of police today would be seen with a pelican: that’s an image of community care and concern that’s long gone: it’s fend for yourself and don’t cross me.
[i] As usual, Wikipedia to the rescue for much of the information that follows.
[ii] You would have guessed this insight came from the University of Cambridge: Bradley, Pamela, May 2013, Cities of Vesuvius: Pompeii and Herculaneum. Cambridge University Press
[iii] Ishaque and Noland. “Making Roads Safe for Pedestrians or Keeping them Out of the Way?”. Imperial College, London Centre for Transport Studies. 18/8/2009.
