How autonomous vehicles might actually make cities more dependent on cars

An autonomous car in action. Image: Getty.

Cities across Europe are taking steps to become increasingly car free. London mayor Sadiq Khan is aiming for 80 per cent of all trips to be made on foot, by cycle or using public transport by 2041, while Copenhagen authorities are aiming for three quarters of all trips to be made in these ways by 2025. Policymakers in Paris want to halve the number of private cars in the city centre, and Madrid will ban all non-resident vehicles except zero-emission delivery vehicles, taxis and public transport from its city centre in November 2018. In Helsinki, the aim is to phase out the use of private cars by 2050, by providing on-demand, affordable public transport.

Alongside reducing congestion and improving urban mobility, city leaders are expected to promote sustainable economic growth, improve air quality and respond to concerns from residents – all within tight budgets. In a world where talent and investment are increasingly mobile, city leaders know they must compete in terms of economic dynamism and quality of life – and transport planning is one way to do that.

Boon or burden?

But car makers and tech giants are looking to a very different type of future, where private car ownership, human control and petrol and diesel engines are replaced by shared, electric and autonomous – or self-driving – vehicles. Many of these changes could be positive for society, compared to current transport systems. It is likely that autonomous vehicles will eventually be better drivers than humans, which would reduce the number of road accidents and fatalities. They may also provide much needed accessibility to elderly and disabled people, which would be beneficial not only to them, but the economy at large.

Without the need to drive, people will be able to be more productive while travelling. If people are able to call up a car at the touch of a smart phone, car ownership will drop, which will free up the substantial tracts of urban land that are currently used to park vehicles. And, with the right incentives, travellers could be encouraged to use the most efficient vehicle for each journey taken, with substantial reductions in emissions and pollution. There would also be benefits for freight deliveries, which may be able to be undertaken at night, when there is more available road capacity.

Paris: quieter by night. Image: Luc Mercelis/Flickr/creative commons.

But some changes may be negative. Self-driving cars are likely to increase – rather than decrease – car travel, as people succumb to the allure of convenience and switch from public transport, or make more journeys. Autonomous vehicles may be able to park themselves away from urban centres, but they still need to be parked – and make return journeys to collect passengers, adding empty cars to the roads and contributing to congestion and air pollution.

And there are lots of unanswered questions about how urban systems will work with the introduction of self-driving vehicles. For example, it’s not clear how self-driving vehicles will co-exist with pedestrians and cyclists. If they are programmed to stop whenever a pedestrian or cyclist gets in their way, there will be pressure to further separate vehicles, pedestrians and cyclists. The vision of future cities in the 2050s may then start to look more and more like the vision of the 1950s, with futuristic new models dominating the foreground, while human activities such as walking and cycling are relegated to concrete overpasses and gloomy subways.


Back to the future

History shows that decisions made by policy makers have long-lasting effects. For example, when automobiles first arrived in cities, policymakers in different countries took different approaches to the issue of mixing of vehicles and pedestrians. In the United States, policymakers invented the concept of “jaywalking” and introduced stringent laws to separate vehicles and pedestrians, in order to “protect pedestrian safety”. The UK, on the other hand, took a more relaxed approach, introducing no such laws.

At the other extreme, policymakers in The Netherlands have taken the view that shared spaces - where streets are designed specifically to allow interaction between vehicles, pedestrians and cyclists - improve safety for all, as well as the liveability of cities more generally. These decisions have had long-lasting impacts on how cities in these countries look and feel today.

The ConversationThe way we think think about the future for autonomous vehicles seems divorced from the wider issues of city transport strategy and economic and social sustainability. It is time to put this right. Mayors, supported by their officials and planners, should start leading a debate now about how self-driving vehicles can best serve the needs of residents and visitors, and help deliver wider goals for their cities. They must develop the policies needed to deliver these benefits, well before self-driving vehicles arrive on the streets.

Mark Kleinman, Professor of Public Policy, King's College London and Charlene Rohr, Senior Research Fellow, King's College London.

This article was originally published on The Conversation. Read the original article.

 
 
 
 

Leeds is still haunted by its pledge to be the “Motorway City of the Seventies”

Oh, Leeds. Image: mtaylor848/Wikimedia Commons.

As the local tourist board will no doubt tell you, Leeds has much to be proud of: grandiose industrial architecture in the form of faux-Egyptian temples and Italian bell-towers; an enduring cultural legacy as the birthplace of Goth, and… motorways. But stand above the A58(M) – the first “urban motorway”  in the country – and you might struggle to pinpoint its tourist appeal.

Back in the 1970s, though, the city council was sufficiently gripped by the majesty of the motorways to make them a part of its branding. Letters sent from Leeds were stamped with a postmark proudly proclaiming the city's modernity: “Leeds, Motorway City of the Seventies”.

Image: public domain.

During the 1960s, post-war optimism and an appetite for grand civic projects saw the rapid construction of motorways across England. The construction of the M1 began in 1959; it reached Leeds, its final destination, in 1968. By the early 1970s the M62 was sweeping across Pennines, and the M621 loop was constructed to link it to Leeds city centre.

Not content with being the meeting point of two major motorways, Leeds was also the first UK city to construct a motorway through the city centre: the inner ring road, which incorporates the short motorway stretches of the A58(M) and the A64(M). As the council put it in 1971, “Leeds is surging forward into the Seventies”.

The driving force behind Leeds' love of motorways was a mix of civic pride and utopian city planning. Like many industrial cities in the North and Midlands, Leeds experienced a decline in traditional manufacturing during the 1960s. Its position at the centre of two major motorways seemed to offer a brighter future as a dynamic city open for trade, with the infrastructure to match. In response to the expansion of the roads, 1970s council planners also constructed an elevated pedestrian “skywalk” in an attempt to free up space for cars at ground level. Photos of Leeds from that time show a thin, white walkway running through blocky office buildings – perhaps not quite as extensive as the futuristic urban landscape originally envisaged by planners, but certainly a visual break with the past.

Fast forward to 2019 and Leeds’ efforts to become a “Motorway City” seems like a kitsch curiosity from a decade that was not always known for sustainable planning decisions. Leeds’s historic deference to the car has serious consequences in the present: in February 2019, Neville Street – a busy tunnel that cuts under Leeds station – was found to contain the highest levels of NO2 outside London.

City centre planners did at least have the foresight to sink stretches of the inner motorways below street level, leaving pedestrian routes largely undisturbed. Just outside the centre, though, the roads can be more disruptive. Sheepscar Interchange is a bewildering tangle of arterial roads, Armley Gyratory strikes fear into the hearts of learner drivers, and the M621 carves unsympathetically through inner-city areas of South Leeds with pedestrian access restricted to narrow bridges that heighten the sense of a fragmented landscape.

 

Leeds inner ring road in its cutting. Image: author provided.

 

The greatest problem for Yorkshire's “Motorway City” in 2019, however, is not the occasional intimidating junction, but the complete lack of an alternative to car travel. The dire state of public transport in Leeds has already been raised on these pages. In the early 20th century Leeds had one of the most extensive tram networks in the country. The last lines closed in 1959, the same year construction began on the A58m.


The short-sightedness of this decision was already recognised in the 1970s, as traffic began to build. Yet plans for a Leeds Supertram were rejected by successive Conservative and Labour governments unwilling to front the cost, even though smaller cities such as Newcastle and Sheffield were granted funding for light transport systems. Today, Leeds is the largest city in the EU without a mass transit system. As well as creating congestion, the lack of viable public transport options prevents connectivity: the city's bus network is reasonable, but weaker from East to West than North to South. As a non-driver, I've turned down jobs a short drive away that would be a logistical impossibility without a car.

Leeds' early enthusiasm for the motorway was perhaps premature, but there are things we can learn from the 1970s. Whatever else can be said about it, Leeds' city transport strategy was certainly bold – a quality in short supply today, after proposals for the supertram were watered down to a trolleybus system before being scrapped altogether in 2016. Leeds' rapid transformation in the 1960s and 70s, its grandiose visions of skywalks and dual carriageways, were driven by strong local political will. Today, the long-term transport strategy documents on Leeds City Council's website say more about HS2 than the need for a mass transit system within Leeds itself, and the council has been accused of giving up the fight for light rail and trams.

Whilst central government's refusal to grant funds is the greatest obstacle to Leeds' development, the local authority needs to be far more vocal in demanding the transport system the city deserves. Leeds' desire to be the Motorway City of the Seventies might look ludicrous today, but the political drive and utopian optimism that underpinned it does not.