Can Indian rickshaws survive in a green and Uber-ised world?

Tuk tuks in Delhi. Image: Getty.

The three-wheeled auto rickshaw – nicknamed ‘tuk tuk’ after the judder of its two-stroke engine – has come to be a symbol of modern Indian city life.  Around a quarter of a million of them putter about the streets, mostly painted in bright yellow and green and decorated inside, often garishly, with photos, stickers and religious iconography.

Rickshaws have existed in some form or another for almost a hundred years, and employ thousands. But despite their cultural popularity, tuk tuks are facing their biggest challenges yet – and they’re of a distinctly 21st century variety. 

The crisis has its roots in India’s environmental problem. Tuk tuks make up about 4 per cent of national traffic, but are concentrated in India’s cities, many of which are among the most polluted in the world. The capital, Delhi, exceeded national pollution standards on 95 per cent of days in 2015. The problem is getting worse, with year on year figures showing a worrying escalation in both greenhouse gas and particulates, leading the government to declare Delhi’s pollution level an “emergency situation”.

In an attempt to bring road traffic pollution down, many state laws now require tuk tuks to run on greener fuel. In Mumbai, India’s most populous city, they must use compressed natural gas (CNG), which emits around 25 per cent less carbon dioxide than petrol. In recent years, tuk tuks have been one of the major drivers of the shift from petrol to gas-based fuels in Asia, spurred by cheaper prices and fuel efficiency. 

Nevertheless, carbon emissions have continued to rise. State and national government willingness to regulate tuk tuks as a source of emissions in the past suggests they are likely to be a target again, especially since they operate only where pollution is the worst. 

The international pressure to cut greenhouse gases is higher than ever, and Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s laudable declaration that India will go “above and beyond” the Paris Agreement will see regulation skyrocket in coming years. Already, government investment in projects such as the sparkling Delhi metro have earmarked city transport as a hotspot of Indian environmental policy, and tuk tuks stand between regulators and a greener India. 

Technological innovation could be the tuk tuk’s saviour. The adoption of battery-powered electric rickshaws has brought about a seating redesign, with golf buggy-style vehicles offering much more space than their CNG counterparts and spurring ride-sharing and efficiency gains. And, like their cycle-powered predecessors, e-rickshaws don’t kick out any Co2, nitrous oxide or particulates into cities.


Yet, for the time being, battery replacement costs make e-rickshaws more expensive than those with engines, and a culture of passengers bargaining down prices means that e-rickshaw drivers stand to make far less money from fares. Everywhere but Mumbai, the meters that tuk tuks are required to screw to the railings between driver and passenger sit unused: fares are instead established through fierce roadside haggling, and most don’t work anyway. A series of safety concerns have led to the banning of e-rickshaws in some cities, including Delhi, and the imposition of a speed limit of 25km/h elsewhere makes them much slower on busier roads and less attractive to prospective passengers. 

At the same time, electric and CNG tuk tuks alike face competition from that mortal enemy of taxi drivers: Uber. Ride hailing apps undercut tuk tuk prices by as much as 50 per cent, and offer air conditioning, card payments and a far more comfortable ride. 

Uber launched in India in 2013, and now sees millions of rides per year there – only the US uses the app more. An attempt at an Uber-ised tuk tuk in 2015 was eventually abandoned, along with attempts to mimic Indian “rickshaw culture”; but the new UberMOTO service has customers riding pillion on their driver’s motorbike for as little as 35 rupees (40 pence) for a half-hour trip.

Everywhere, tuk tuk drivers complain about the fall in prices since Uber’s arrival, and worry about the scarcity of passengers, especially for longer journeys. Although Uber vehicles are also required to use CNG in some cities, regulation has thus far targeted the various forms of rickshaw more than their techy competitor.

The tuk tuk sits at an uneasy crossroads. It is neither green enough to satisfy regulators, nor cheap enough to satisfy thrifty customers who can easily summon a cheaper ride on their smartphones. With the launch of environmental action under the Paris Agreement set for 2020, and fares being squeezed dangerously in the meantime, the familiar noise of the tuk tuk on Indian city streets could soon be facing extinction. 

 
 
 
 

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. 

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