If we want to increase escalator capacity, why don’t we just run the things faster?

A busy day on the tube. Image: Getty.

While Londoners may still be recovering from the trauma, many outside the capital probably completely missed Transport for London’s audacious and sacrilegious experiment at Holborn station.

For three weeks, tube passengers stood on both sides of the escalators going up from the platforms to the ticket hall. There were people standing on both the left and the right. Nobody could walk.

I know: it was madness. I understand your anguish.

TfL’s logic was as follows. On long escalators, the vast majority of people won’t want to walk because humanity is an intuitively lazy species. Thus, huge queues build up at the bottom of the escalator as large volumes of people try to squeeze onto the right-hand side, so that they can obediently stand in line as they chug slowly upwards, like a slightly less sedate, slightly less terracotta terracotta army.

The experiment largely failed, because basically people are stubborn and changing the behaviour of large groups is, like, really hard. But anyone who has stood in a soul-crushing human mob at the bottom of an escalator at a tube station in rush hour will understand just how pressing the need is for a way to increase escalator capacity.


There’s an obvious solution – one that’s likely been suggested by amateur masters of logistics all over the world every time they’ve found themselves in such mildly antagonising and incremental-delay-incurring situations: run the things faster.

Theoretically, of course, this is possible. Escalator speeds vary a great deal anyway, even within London – those in shopping centres or department stores tend to run at about 0.5 metres per second, whilst the London Underground standard is 0.75 metres per second.

Looking further afield, city transport networks across the world run their escalators at all sorts of different speeds. New York City’s are horrendously slow, running at about 0.45 metres per second, whilst Prague, Stockholm, Beijing, Shanghai, and Guangzhou settle around the stately 0.6 metres per second mark. Sydney, Singapore, and Seoul’s systems square up sensibly to London’s standard speed in the 0.75 metres per second region, with Seoul pushing ahead slightly at 0.78 metres per second. The trailblazer, though, is Hong Kong, whose escalators breeze along at 0.8 metres per second.

Fantastic! Great! So, all we have to do is compare escalator capacity in Hong Kong MTR stations with capacity in London tube stations, and-

This escalator on the Stockholm metro is not suffering from overcrowding. Image: Getty.

Unfortunately the comparison isn’t that simple. London’s escalator steps are, as standard, 1 metre wide and 0.4 metres deep. Many of Hong Kong’s escalators are significantly narrower and not as deep. Whether that’s clever space-saving on Hong Kong’s part, or ingenious future-proofing for the post-mass-obesity world by Transport for London, we may never know – but either way, it changes the rate at which steps reach the top, rendering direct comparisons based on speed alone impossible.

The speed limit

What we can do instead is to look at a bizarre study carried out by four students from Hong Kong on the relationship between escalator speed in metro systems and “pace of life”. They described that rather dubious metric described as “the rate; speed and relative rapidity or density of experiences, meanings, perceptions, and activities”. They calculated it by combining economic, climate, employment, and population indices.

One of the things they did as part of that study is to conduct reasonably lengthy interviews with users of metro systems (principally the Hong Kong MTR) about their experiences of the escalators on that system, and how that related to their impression of the city’s “pace of life”.  One businesswoman in her mid-twenties interviews for the study said that “Hong Kong people are used to the fast”; but most of the non-locals that they spoke to, mostly from mainland China, said that the escalators on the Hong Kong MTR were “too fast”.

Such comments highlight one of the biggest problems with running escalators faster. A study by Paul Davis and Goutam Dutta has already shown that the presence of non-commuters decreases capacity on London’s escalators. Meanwhile, an experiment with variable speed escalators in New York ended up with a Indian visitor falling over.

There is quite obviously a safety danger to be taken into account if you’re going to start running escalators at 0.8 metres per second or faster. The queues at the bottom of Holborn’s escalators might be shorter most of the time if said escalators are whizzing passengers upwards at silly speeds – but they’ll likely be considerably longer while the paramedics try and reach the elderly man who’s tumbled fifteen metres down an up escalator. Swings and roundabouts, you know?

For those less interested in actual human health and welfare, and more interested in the technical side of running large transport networks, there’s another problem with running such escalators at speed. The average walking speed is around 1.3 metres per second. If you take the running speed of London Underground escalators – 0.75 metres per second – and the rate at which people generally ascend the steps if they’re walking – around 0.7 metres per second – you end with a speed of 1.45 metres per second.

So people walking up escalators are actually travelling slightly faster than they do the rest of the time. And that’s a problem. When it’s only an incremental difference (0.15 metres per second), it leads to nothing more dangerous that awkward mincy super-walk that people do for the first few seconds after walking off the end of an escalator.

But when there’s a bigger difference in speed, it can cause major problems. Either, people trip over their own feet trying how to remember how to walk on non-moving ground, and cause a capacity-reducing pile-up in the process; or people stop at the top of the escalator to prepare themselves for walking on non-moving ground. And cause a capacity-reducing pile-up in the process.

Neither does this one in Lisbon. Pretty, though. Image: Getty.

Essentially, speeding up escalators causes more problems than it solves, and is ultimately no more than the silly solution of the kind of person who still hasn’t grown out of the childish habit of following every piece of information with, “But why?”

Start again

Fortunately, researchers Davis and Dutta do come up with some more sensible alternatives. Unfortunately, these are the sort of drastic changes that are much easier to implement you haven’t built your metro system yet than they are if you’re trying to unclog a jam-packed 150-year old system.

Of the many London Underground escalators they studied, the researchers found that those with the highest peak-time capacity were escalators with open, orderly approaches, not impeded by awkward corners and cross-flow confusions.

They found that having a corridor between the platform and the escalators acts as a filter for passengers alighting a train, improving capacity as passengers naturally filter out into two lines – one for walking and one for standing – in an orderly way (rather than the human crush you get when you come straight off the platform, turn a corner, and suddenly there’s an escalator). Interestingly, single escalators have a higher capacity than double escalators, because passengers don’t dither trying to work out which escalator to take.

So. If you want to get more of your passengers onto your struggling escalators during peak hours, you basically need to redesign your entire underground station. You need to build stations that naturally filter your passengers out into fast walkers, slow walkers, escalator standers and escalator walkers, and divide them into distinct groups.

Most of all, you need to not break any codes of etiquette that are probably as old as the city itself.

Jack May tweets as @JackO_May

Why not like us on Facebook

 
 
 
 

The Thessaloniki dig problem: How can Greece build anything when it’s swarming with archaeologists?

Archaeological finds on display in an Athens metro station. Image: Gary Hartley.

It’s fair to say that the ancient isn’t much of a novelty in Greece. Almost every building site quickly becomes an archaeological site – it’s hard to spin a tight 360 in Athens without a reminder of ancient civilisation, even where the city is at its ugliest.

The country’s modern cities, recent interlopers above the topsoil, serve as fascinating grounds for debates that are not just about protecting the ancient, but what exactly to do with it once it’s been protected.

The matter-of-fact presentation that comes with the many, many discoveries illustrates the point. Athens often opts to display things more or less where they were found, making metro stations a network of museums that would probably take pride of place in most other capitals. If you’re into the casual presentation of the evocative, it doesn’t get much better than the toy dog on wheels in Acropolis station.

That’s not even close to the extent of what’s available to cast an eye over as you go about your day. There are ruins just inside the city centre’s flagship Zara store, visible through the glass floor and fringed by clothes racks; Roman baths next to a park cafe; an ancient road and cemetery in an under-used square near Omonia, the city’s down-at-heel centre point.

Ruins in Zara. Image: Gary Hartley.

There is undoubtedly something special about stumbling upon the beauty of the Ancients more or less where it’s always been, rather than over-curated and corralled into purpose-built spaces, beside postcards for sale. Not that there isn’t plenty of that approach too – but Greece offers such sheer abundance that you’ll always get at least part of the history of the people, offered up for the people, with no charge attached.

While the archaic and the modern can sit side by side with grace and charm, economic pressures are raising an altogether more gritty side to the balancing act. The hard press of international lenders for the commercialisation and privatisation of Greek assets is perhaps the combustible issue of the moment – but archaeology is proving something of a brake on the speed of the great sell-off.

The latest case in point is the development of Elliniko – a site where the city’s decrepit former airport and a good portion of the 2004 Olympic Games complex sits, along the coastal stretch dubbed the Athens Riviera. With support from China and Abu Dhabi, luxury hotels and apartments, malls and a wholesale re-landscaping of several square kilometres of coastline are planned.

By all accounts the bulldozers are ready to roll, but when a whole city’s hovering above its classical roots, getting an international, multi-faceted construction job off the ground promises to be tricky – even when it’s worth €8bn.


And so it’s proved. After much political push and shove over the last few weeks, 30 hectares of the 620-hectare plot have now been declared of historical interest by the country’s Central Archaeological Council. This probably means the development will continue, but only after considerable delays, and under the watchful eye of archaeologists.

It would be too easy to create a magical-realist fantasy of the Ancient Greeks counterpunching against the attacks of unrestrained capital. The truth is, even infrastructure projects funded with domestic public money run into the scowling spirits of history.

Thessaloniki’s Metro system, due for completion next year, has proved to be a series of profound accidental excavations – or, in the immortal words of the boss of Attiko Metro A.E., the company in charge of the project, “problems of the past”.

The most wonderful such ‘problem’ to be revealed is the Decumanus Maximus, the main avenue of the Byzantine city – complete with only the world’s second example of a square paved with marble. Add to that hundreds of thousands of artefacts, including incredibly well-preserved jewellery, and you’ve a hell of a haul.

Once again, the solution that everyone has finally agreed on is to emulate the Athens approach – making museums of the new metro stations. (Things have moved on from early suggestions that finds should be removed and stored at an ex-army camp miles from where they were unearthed.)

There are other problems. Government departments have laid off many of their experts, and the number of archaeologists employed at sites of interest has been minimised. Non-profit organisations have had their own financial struggles. All of this has aroused international as well as local concern, a case in point being the U.S. government’s renewal of Memorandums of Understanding with the Greek state in recent years over protection of “cultural property”.

But cuts in Greece are hardly a new thing: lack of government funding has become almost accepted across society. And when an obvious target for ire recedes, the public often needs to find a new one.

Roman baths in Athens. Image: Gary Hartley.

Archaeologists are increasingly finding themselves to be that target – and in the midst of high-stakes projects, it’s extremely hard to win an argument. If they rush an excavation to allow the quickest possible completion, they’re seen as reckless. If they need more time, they’re blamed for holding up progress. 

Another widely-told but possibly-apocryphal tale illustrates this current problem. During the construction of the Athens Metro, a construction worker was so frustrated by the perceived dawdling of archaeologists that he bought a cheap imitation amphora in a gift shop, smashed it up and scattered the fragments on site. The worthless pieces were painstakingly removed and analysed.

True or not, does this tale really prove any point about archaeologists? Not really. They’re generally a pragmatic bunch, simply wanting to keep relics intact and not get too embroiled in messy public debates.

It also doesn’t truly reflect mainstream attitudes to cultural capital. By and large, it’s highly valued for its own sake here. And while discoveries and delays may be ripe for satire, having history’s hoard on your doorstep offers inconveniences worth enduring. It’s also recognised that, since tourists are not just here for the blue skies, good food and beaches, it’s an important money-maker.

Nonetheless, glass malls and shiny towers with coastal views rising from public land are good for the purse, too – and the gains are more immediate. As the Greek state continues its relentless quest for inward investment, tensions are all but guaranteed in the coming years. 

This is a country that has seen so many epic battles in its time it has become a thing of cliché and oiled-up Hollywood depiction. But the latest struggle, between rapacious modernity and the buried past, could well be the most telling yet. 

Want more of this stuff? Follow CityMetric on Twitter or Facebook