On the Glider: Belfast’s new bus rapid transit system has triggered a political row over bus stop names

A Glider outside Belfast City Hall. Image: Nick Birse/Wikimedia Commons.

Is it a tram? Is it a bendy-bus? Is it a bendy-bus-tram? Is it just a long purple bus running on a not-quite-continuous network of bus lanes? Or, is it, as former Ireland rugby international Stephen Ferris (and now self-appointed part-time traffic infrastructure spokesperson) wrote on Twitter, a shambles? 

In Belfast it’s known as The Glider: a new £90m diesel-electric hybrid bus rapid transit (BRT) system launched – to mixed reactions as a quick #Glider search on social media reveals –  at the end of 2018.

Part-funded by the European Regional Development Fund and run by local transport company Translink, the BRT connects the east and west of the city with the city centre via 15.2 miles of bus lanes and mixed traffic lanes – a symbolic move given the, still, divided geography of the city. 

Recent figures released by Translink appear to reveal the early success of the scheme: around 30,000 passengers are now using the service as their primary choice of travel, equating to more than 4,000 car journeys every day. With Belfast being the most car-dependent city in the UK – the average person in Northern Ireland making 81.5 per cent of all their journeys by car, compared to 63 per cent in the whole UK - the Glider seems to be getting, at least some people, out of their cars and onto the purple-bendy-bus-tram. 

The central Belfast section of the route map. Image: Translink.

The launch of the scheme has not been without controversy: in Northern Ireland, the sectarianisation of literally anything is unfortunately still regarded by some as a legitimate political weapon. This time it was the weaponisation of bus-stop names. Short Strand, a historic inner-city (broadly nationalist) community had its Glider stop named – spoiler alert – “Short Strand”. In a letter to her constituents DUP MP Emma Little-Pengelly claimed that the naming of the stop did “not reflect either the area or the history of the area”, even though the bus stop on the site was called that already. She instead suggested, without any hint of irony, that the city-bound stop be named “Albert Bridge” – that’s the British Prince Albert, grandson of Queen Victoria – with the name “Short Strand” being retained for the return journey stop. Translink responded that this would cause confusion for passengers. The stop remains named Short Strand. Little-Pengelly claimed that it was “not a sectarian issue at all”.


Next, consider the strange but significant connection between taxis, civil servants, bus-lanes and the Court of Appeals ruling on planning permission for the construction of a waste incinerator (stay with me, here). The court upheld a ruling dismissing planning permission for the controversial Arc21 waste incinerator, saying that civil servants, who had approved the scheme, did not have the power to act without ministerial approval. (NI is currently without a devolved parliament.) In line with the ruling, without ministers in place, a scheme to allow taxis to use bus lanes could not be approved – and with bus lanes creating more peak-time traffic congestion, it’s a decision that could likely affect taxi drivers livelihoods. 

Then there was the small oversight of mis-timed traffic singles in the city’s Titanic Quarter, which, in conjunction with the new bus lanes managed to cause massive traffic congestion in the area; people parking in the bus lanes; confusion about the automatic doors on the buses; the problems with the ticketing system…

Within a week of the Glider launching, a petition was started to get rid of the bus and restrictions altogether. And yet, the bus lanes remain and the city appears to be getting used to its new BRT – it’s standing room only during rush hour. 

So: is it a tram? A bendy-bus? Or just a long purple bus running on that not-quite-continuous network of bus lanes? 

Yes, it’s a bus: but a nice warm bus, with comfy seats, Wifi and USB chargers. It’s a small but significant change in a city that has the highest car ownership in the UK, is one of the worst polluted cities in the UK, and the third most congested. It’s a positive change in a city that has the highest rate of obesity and the highest rate of avoidable deaths.

The Glider, bendy-bus or not, might only make a small contribution to changing these statistics – but if nothing else the scheme has opened up a much-needed conversation in the city about the future transport infrastructure. 

 
 
 
 

Wild boar are moving back to Genoa, and not everyone is pleased

A wild boar, c1933. Image: Getty.

Crossing the Ponte Gerolamo Serra in the Italian city of Genoa, I spotted a small crowd clustered by the river wall. I approached, intrigued, and peered over the wall to discover the subject of their delight: a sounder of eight wild boars – the adults sheltering from the heat in the undergrowth, while the juveniles foraged among the foliage that grows in the river bed during the dry summer months.

In any other city, such a sight might have been surprising. But in Italy, and particularly in the region of Liguria, where Genoa is located, the population of wild boars has been increasing at such a rapid rate that these incidents are now common. Across the country, it’s estimated that the population has risen from 600,000 to 1m over the past decade.

But while wild boars may look comically out of place trotting about the city, it’s actually a natural result of the way people have migrated – and the wars they have fought – over the course of recent history.

Making a comeback

A species native to Europe, the wild boar (or “cinghiale”, in Italian) largely disappeared from its historical territories during the 18th and 19th centuries. Their decline was widely attributed to the combined effects of habitat change, competition for space and resources and, of course, hunting.

Wild boars were a prized quarry, revered for their ferocity – and the danger involved in pursuing them. According to local folklore from the region of Liguria, the last truly wild boar was hunted and killed in 1814, in the province of Savona.

After an absence of more than a century, wild boar began to return to Liguria, and to the neighbouring region of Piedmont. A further influx occurred during World War I, when it’s believed that military activities in the south-east of France forced parts of the population back into Italy over the Alps.

Although hunting fraternities were quick to augment this fledgling population with wild boars transported from elsewhere, the return of the species was primarily due to natural causes. From the 1950s onwards, traditional agricultural practices were abandoned as more and more people moved from rural towns into the cities. This meant that large areas of formerly cultivated terraces and pastures were rapidly overgrown, fast becoming dense secondary woodlands.

A city gone wild

This spontaneous “rewilding” has become a controversial issue in the region. Many conservationists and environmental organisations consider the region’s return to a “wild state” a success. But others believe that the encroaching wilderness signals a loss of traditional woodland knowledge and a reduction of biodiversity, associated with the pastures and meadows.


The province of Genoa is among the areas most densely populated by wild boar in Italy, with an estimated 25 boar per 10km². Rewilding processes have brought woodlands to the city limits, blurring the boundary between rural and urban areas. The species has expanded beyond the hinterlands, colonising highly urbanised, densely populated city spaces in Genoa, drawn by the abundance of food waste created by humans.

In 2009, the infamous boar Pierino made his home at Righi, on the outskirts of Genoa, where he was routinely fed with focaccia by enthusiasts. Today, a family of wild boar call the Albergo dei Poveri – a historical hostel for the Genoese poor in the city centre – their home.

But while their antics are often recorded and shared with glee on social media, the threats posed by the presence of wild animals has become a preoccupation for the city’s municipal administration.

Boorish behaviour

Wild boar have been involved in a number of traffic accidents, and have proven to be particularly dangerous when with their young, attacking dogs and even people. The city council in Genoa has put forward many proposals to reduce the number of animals in the city, ranging from forced removals, to sterilisation, increased attention to waste disposal and approved hunts. About 90 wild boar were reportedly culled in 2018.

Needless to say, each of these measures has been hotly debated. Animal advocacy groups staunchly oppose the proposals, and sometimes obstruct the authorities’ attempts to take action, often sending patrols to care for the animals, and even give them names. But other residents are displeased with the animals’ presence in the city, and have consulted with the council on how to address the problems that they cause.

And so Genoa continues to grapple with thorny issues surrounding the presence of wild boar in the city, with the city authorities seeking to resolve a polemical issue that embroils the lives of animals and humans alike. So far, a collective, coherent and communally agreeable strategy has proven evasive; one that considers the need for public safety, hygiene and health with the ethical responsibilities towards to wild boar themselves.

Meanwhile, the animals themselves continue to lounge and forage beneath the Ponte Gerolamo Serra and elsewhere, bringing a little of the wilderness into the city.

The Conversation

Robert Hearn, Assistant Professor in Human Geography, University of Nottingham.

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.