Will Mexico City's careering, polluting, dinosaur microbuses finally go extinct?

Decrepit green coating? Check. Loud ’80s music? Check. Doors wide open so you can say hi to the driver from the sidewalk? Check. The driver also happens to be on the phone? Check.

You have successfully ticked all the boxes of an authentic microbús in Mexico City.

For “Latin America’s smartest city”, the small, overcrowded buses are dinosaurs of sorts. Usually, Mexico City likes to brag about its transportation system, which is made up of 195 metro stations, 6,000 shared public bikes and fast-lane bus system. But the microbús stands out for its looks, pollution levels and unruliness. So politicians are looking for ways to get rid of them.

The system of microbuses was developed organically and under limited governmental supervision. To hop on one of these vehicles, all you need to do is stand by a street corner and wave. But to get somewhere specific – like, home – it’s best to pray to God (or Google Maps), because the bus won’t follow the same route back and forth. Official maps do not exist and different lines sometimes share the same route number.

But the greatest charge against them is pollution.

Mexico City is not exactly known for its pure air, and all 35,000 microbuses roaming around the metropolis emit more than 1.5m tons of CO2 per year, as well as particulates and Nitrogen Oxides. This is mainly due to the vehicles’ age: most of them are more than 20 years old (think Spice Girls era).

But not only do they pollute, microbuses have a knack of rebelling against traffic rules.

Mexico City's infamous traffic. Image: Carlos Van Vegas.

When they’re not driving through red lights, they drive sluggishly to make sure no potential passenger is missed.

The habit of speeding, changing lanes and abruptly breaking is driven by a fierce competition between microbús drivers. Because they evolved from collective taxis back in the 1960s, microbuses are privately owned. Drivers buy their own buses (or “rent” them from small companies), get a license from the city’s Secretary of Transportation and work on a route which is often already occupied by other drivers. And since their pay is correlated to the number of passengers they pick up, it is not uncommon to see them race each other down the streets of Mexico City.

The government’s initial and rather ambitious goal was to get rid of 20,000 microbuses by 2018. The local authorities encourage drivers to buy greener vehicles by simply not renewing their licenses and by launching a campaign to collect the rolling carcasses for scrap metal. In June 2017, only 30 per cent of the objective was achieved – leaving 14,000 microbuses to eradicate by the deadline next year.

A microbus in action. Image: Fabz.

Raising the fee of microbuses would perhaps work better. On April 27, 2017, a ride on a microbús went from four to five pesos, with the official reason being that higher gasoline prices demanded higher fares. The very next day, there were 200,000 more people choosing to get around town via the metro. But that option is available only to the 13 per cent of residents living near a metro stop.

When the iconic microbús goes extinct, what will people use? Both politicians and city dwellers may deride microbuses for the reckless driving habits of the drivers and the foul and toxic stench of their diesel engines, but the truth is – they’re indispensable.

With more than 21m people living in Mexico City and the urban surroundings, the sprawling “Valley of Mexico” is twice the size of London.

Mexico City's colonial core. Image: Jeff Kramer.

For the 13m who live on the outskirts, public transportation is practically nonexistent, except for the few bus and fast train lines – meanwhile, current governmental plans to develop transport capacity seem inconclusive.

All in all, a timid eight per cent of the capital’s population opt for government-controlled metros and buses while more than 50 per cent hop on licensed microbuses daily. So, as battered and unglamorous the microbús may be, it fulfills the transportation needs of the majority of the capital’s residents.

For the time being, the four-wheel dinosaur reigns supreme in Mexico City’s transport landscape. With no viable alternatives, the extinction of microbuses can wait.

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There isn’t a single national housing market – so we need multiple models of local regeneration, too

Rochdale. Image: Getty.

This week’s budget comes ten years after the 2007 financial crisis. The trigger for that crisis was a loss in confidence in mortgages for homes, with banks suddenly recognising the vulnerability of loans on their books.

In the last ten years, the UK’s cities and regions have followed very different paths. This week’s focus on housing affordability is welcome, but it will be a challenge for any chancellor in the coming decade to use national policy to help towns up and down the country. Local housing markets differ drastically. The new crop of city-region mayors are recognising this, as rents in parts of south Greater Manchester are on average double the rents in parts of the north of the city-region.

When it comes to buying a home, politicians are increasingly articulate about the consequences of inequity in our housing system. But we must recognise that, for 9m citizens who live in social rented homes, the prospects of improvements to properties, common areas and grounds are usually tied to wider projects to create new housing within existing estates – sometimes involving complete demolition and rebuilding.

While the Conservative governments of the 1980s shrank the scale of direct investment in building homes for social rent, the Labour governments from the late 1990s used a sustained period of growth in property prices to champion a new model: affordable housing was to be paid for by policies which required contributions to go to housing associations. Effectively, the funding for new affordable housing and refurbished social homes was part of the profit from market housing built next door, on the same turf; a large programme of government investment also brought millions of social rented homes up to a decent standard.

This cross-subsidy model was always flawed. Most fundamentally, it relies on rising property prices – which it is neither desirable nor realistic to expect. Building more social homes became dependent on ratcheting up prices and securing more private profit. In London, we are starting to see that model come apart at the seams.

The inevitable result has been that with long social housing waiting lists and rocketing market prices, new developments have too often ended up as segregated local communities, home to both the richest and the poorest. They may live side by side, but as the RSA concluded earlier this year, investment in the social infrastructure and community development to help neighbours integrate has too often been lacking. Several regeneration schemes that soldiered on through the downturn did so by building more private homes and fewer social rented homes than existed before, or by taking advantage of more generous legal definitions of what counts as ‘affordable housing’ – or both.

A rough guide to how house prices have changed since 2007: each hexagon is a constituency. You can explore the full version at ODI Leeds.

In most of England’s cities, the story does not appear to be heading for the dramatic crescendo high court showdowns that now haunt both developers and communities in the capital. In fact, for most social housing estates in most places outside London, national government should recognise that the whole story looks very different. As austerity measures have tightened budgets for providers of social housing, budgets to refurbish ageing homes are under pressure to do more with less. With an uncertain outlook for property prices, as well as ample brownfield and greenfield housing sites, estates in many northern towns are not a priority for private investors in property development.

In many towns and cities – across the North and the Midlands – the challenges of a poor quality built environment, a poor choice of homes in the local are, and entrenched deprivation remain serious. The recent reclassification of housing associations into the private sector doesn’t make investing in repairs and renewal more profitable. The bespoke ‘housing deals’ announced show that the government is willing to invest directly – but there is anxiety that devolution to combined authorities simply creates another organisation that needs to prioritise building new homes over the renewal of existing neighbourhoods.


In Rochdale, the RSA is working with local mutual housing society RBH to plan for physical, social and economic regeneration at the same time. Importantly, we are making the case – with input from the community of residents themselves – that significant investment in improving employment for residents might itself save the public purse enough money to pay for itself in the long-run.

Lots of services are already effective at helping people find work and start a job. But for those for whom job searching feels out of reach, we are learning from Rochdale Borough Council’s pioneering work that the journey to work can only come from trusting, personal relationships. We hear time and again about the demoralising effect of benefits sanctions and penalties. We are considering an alternative provision of welfare payments, as are other authorities in the UK. Importantly, residents are identifying clearly the particular new challenges created by new forms of modern employment and the type of work available locally: this is a town where JD Sports is hiring 1000 additional workers to fulfil Black Friday orders at its warehouse.

In neighbourhoods like Rochdale’s town centre, both national government and the new devolved city-region administration are considering an approach to neighbourhood change that works for both people and place together. Redevelopment of the built environment is recognised as just one aspect of improving people’s quality of life. Residents themselves will tell you quality jobs and community facilities are their priority. But without a wider range of housing choices and neighbourhood investment locally, success in supporting residents to achieve rising incomes will mean many residents are likely to leave places like Rochdale town centre altogether.

Meaningful change happen won’t happen without patience and trust: between agencies in the public sector, between tenants and landlords, and between citizens and the leaders of cities. This applies as much to our planning system as it does to our complex skills and employment system.

Trust builds slowly and erodes quickly. As with our other projects at the RSA, we are convinced that listening and engaging citizens will improve policy-making. Most of those involved in regeneration know this better than anyone. But at the national level we need to recognise that, just as the labour market and the housing market vary dramatically from place to place, there isn’t a single national story which represents how communities feel about local regeneration.

Jonathan Schifferes is interim Director, Public Services and Communities, at the Royal Society for the encouragement of Arts, Manufactures and Commerce (RSA).