How did a single computer failure take out the whole of the Melbourne rail network?

Going nowhere fast. Image: Marcus Wong/Wikipedia Commons.

If you don’t live in Australia, then your only experience of Metro Trains Melbourne is probably the ghoulishly jolly Dumb Ways To Die animated clip that went viral in 2012. But, as the clip loosely implies, the group operates one of the southern hemisphere’s largest metro rail networks.

Or, if you were trying to travel Down Under this Thursday, it turned out that they didn’t. A reported computer failure first led to massive delays on the whole system, and eventually to the entire central part of the city’s network being brought to a total halt for several hours.

With thousands of commuters stuck in trains, drivers and guards pleaded with passengers not to force the train doors and escape into the danger of the tunnels (possibly via jolly songs). A desperate Twitter user held a poll on whether he should answer a call of nature through the emergency door; naturally Australia backed him with an 84 per cent Yes vote.

Train failures happen everywhere: signal failures, track failures, accidents, and incidents of all kinds are common annoyances for commuters. But the whole network collapsing due to a computer error seems a bit much: could they not just turn it off and start again…?

Basically, no.

The biggest problem here is that Melbourne has a single underground loop line that links all its suburban tracks together. It’s a bit like London Underground’s Circle/District/Metropolitan/Hammersmith lines, with the crucial difference that almost all Melbourne’s suburban trains go at least partially round the loop – there’s no other route through the city. Even the city’s two terminus stations, Southern Cross and Finders Street, form part of the city loop, and many terminating services share signalling systems with loop trains.

A schematic of the Melbourne city loop. Source: Wikipedia.

Like many rail systems, Melbourne’s was randomly constructed by private companies out for a cheap buck, with no interest in interconnected metro or in buying up expensive city blocks to build through-lines. The city’s flat, swampy land also put everyone off tunnelling.

A lot of mergers and some nationalisation later, the system found itself feeding into two main terminals, both overcrowded. By 1969, transport planners decided that this wouldn’t do, and planned the City Loop.

Planners love joining up suburban lines with a tunnel through the city. You replace two busy, land-scarce, crowded terminals with through stations, serve major city destinations directly, and only have to turn trains around in the sticks. The RER in Paris, London’s Thameslink and Crossrail, and Berlin’s HBF all work on this principle.

But Melbourne’s planners were… braver.

Remember, every train into Melbourne already went into either Southern Cross (then called Spencer Street) or Flinders Street. Building the loop wasn’t like building Crossrail: it was like building a mash-up of Crossrail, Thameslink and the Overground to carry every single train that previously used to go into a London terminus.


The planners rose to the challenge: the number of tracks on the circle varies from two to six (originally planned as four to eight). But the net result was to create a complicated service with a lot of junctions and crossovers, which needs to carry lots of trains.

They had a clever solution to the complexity, too: they built one of the world’s first computerised railways. The City Loop opened in 1980 with fully automated signalling, using a dedicated system called Metrol, which allowed faster, more reliable switching, signaller and passenger information. When it opened, this was a state of the art system.

The trouble is, almost 40 years and some privatisation later, franchise operator Metro Trains Melbourne and government infrastructure owner Public Transport Victoria are still using it.

The brains of the system have been moved from the original ancient PDP-11 mainframes to a network of PC servers, and some modern train control systems have been added; but it’s still based around 40-year-old software, and the interface between the new computers and the tracks and signals still relies on 40-year-old interface boards. Metro Trains has to acquire replacements on the second-hand market as other companies retire their old servers.

Using old equipment isn’t rare in transport. New York’s still running on kit that was 40 years old when Metrol was installed, and the systems being removed in London are even older. Although the dreaded ‘signal failure’ is a common reason for scraping along at snail’s pace, they don’t halt the whole system.

But… well, have you tried watching an analogue versus a digital TV with a bad signal? Old-style train control systems are dumb, often fail, and are designed for the failures to be local and worked around. When newer-style train control systems fail, because the brains are centralised, so is the crash. More recent ones are designed to route around these problems, but Melbourne led the way and paid the price.

The complete system map. Click to expand. Image: Melbourne Metro.

Worse still, in other major cities, if a signal failure takes out one line, then you’ve still got a bunch of other lines to use. The City Loop means you can’t do that in Melbourne: if you lose signalling here, then every train line in the city is stuffed. Although the Metrol system only covers the City Loop and a few neighbouring inner suburban stations, you can’t run trains in the suburbs if they’re stuck on the wrong side of the city.

So what can Melbourne do? Replacing Metrol is often discussed, but would be painfully expensive, especially in terms of the disruption caused – and more recently, modern information systems have been built on top of it, which you’d have to fit in with the replacement.

The government are also starting work on a new tunnelled line through the CBD that's completely independent from the loop, which will help take some of the pressure off services – but even when it’s done, most city lines will still be subject to the same problems.

If I were Public Transport Victoria or Metro Trains, as the old joke says, I wouldn’t want to be starting from here.

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A Century after radical leftists were elected to its city hall, Vienna’s social democratic base is slipping away

Karl Marx Hof. Image: Kagan Kaya.

Karl Marx-Hof, a kilometre-long municipal apartment block in Vienna’s wealthy 19th district, was first named after the father of the communist movement by Austria’s Social Democratic Workers’ Party (SDAP) in 1927. Its imposing structure borrows from an eclectic mix of modernist, Bauhaus, art deco, neoclassical and baroque architectural styles. In the mould of early soviet experiments, the building, nicknamed The Palace of the Proletariat, housed shared childcare services, gardens and washrooms.

The building is Vienna’s most prominent physical reminder of a period known as Red Vienna, when left-wing radicals found themselves at the helm of the Hapsburg’s former imperial capital during the aftermath of the First World War. 

After the collapse of the Austro-Hungarian dual monarchy in 1918, the SDAP won the fledgeling republic’s first elections held under universal suffrage and commenced an ambitious programme of social and economic reform. Leading intellectual lights of the party sought to unite the two great strands of the 20th-century labour movement, reconciling parliamentary socialism and revolutionary communism under their new current of non-Bolshevik “Austro-Marxism”. Karl Marx-Hof epitomised their radical ambitions. “When we are no longer here”, Mayor Karl Seitz told an assembled crowd of workers at the building’s opening in 1930, “these bricks will speak for us.”

When I visited Karl Marx-Hof on a sunny day in June, Monica and George, two of its residents, were walking their two Chihuahuas around the estate’s leafy, quiet courtyards. “We moved here last year,” Monica tells me. “It’s really nice because you’ve got a lot of green space in the middle of the city.”

The young couple are the beneficiaries of a generous system of public housing provision. Vienna has a relative abundance of high-quality municipal flats compared with most large capitals. “We weren’t waiting long for the flat – moving in here was really fast”, Monica says. Currently, 60 per cent of Vienna’s residents live in either municipally owned, subsidised housing, or in social homes run by not-for-profit cooperatives. The remaining portion of private homes is subject to strict rent controls and regulations.

The social democrats and their less radical successors have remained the dominant party in Vienna since the city’s first election, save for an 11-year hiatus of fascist dictatorship from 1934, followed by Anschluss and Nazi occupation from 1938. The city remains a red statelet in an otherwise conservative country. Indeed, Austria is now more associated with the far right than the radical left. But even Vienna is no longer immune to the trend of waning support for centre-left parties that has gripped European countries since 2008, and cracks are beginning to appear in its social democratic project.

Two exhibitions in the city – one in the former communal wash house of Karl Marx-Hof, the other in the grand Wien Museum MUSA – note the achievements of Red Vienna’s experiment in local socialism: the introduction of pensions and unemployment support; the establishment of a nascent public healthcare system; the opening of kindergartens, schools run on Montessori principles, public baths, open-air swimming pools, libraries, parks, leisure facilities, arts centres; and, of course, a programme of mass council house building, all paid for by a system of progressive income taxation coupled with duties on luxury goods, including servants, champagne, private cars and riding horses.

Unlike the Bolsheviks, (and partly because, as a provincial government, it lacked the powers to do so), the SDAP did not expropriate or nationalise factories or private industry without compensation, but instead paid former owners whenever buildings or land passed from private to public hands. The party built what it perceived to be the chrysalis of a new egalitarian society, while leaving the market and private ownership of the means of production largely intact. In many ways, its policies palliated the worst effects of early 20th century industrial capitalism like slum housing, mass unemployment and extreme poverty. Red Vienna laid the ground for the modern European welfare state, inspiring other social democratic governments across the continent to implement similar policies after the Second World War. 


“Back then the social democrats were good,” Monica tells me, attempting to calm her excitable dogs by pulling on their leads. Does she intend to vote for the social democrats in the upcoming national elections in September? “We vote for the blue ones,” she answers. Monica and George will cast their vote for the Freheitliche Partei Osterreichs (FPO), the Freedom Party, an organisation founded after the Second World War by a former Nazi minister of agriculture and high-ranking SS officer. “It’s because of all the refugees and all the violence that’s going on here,” she claims. “Shootings are more frequent in Vienna.”

Austria has one of the lowest murder rates in the world, almost half that of England and Wales, and Vienna itself is known for its relative safety compared to other European capitals. But hundreds of thousands of refugees have travelled through Austria over the last four years. Many have made the city their home, but most have transited towards Germany, at Angela Merkel’s invitation. The mass movement of people from across the Mediterranean to central and northern Europe has ruptured the country’s social-democratic pact. In 2016, Norbert Hofer of the Freedom Party narrowly missed out on victory in the presidential election, receiving 46 per cent of the vote.

“Lots of people say they’re just racists,” Monica continues, visibly uncomfortable with the idea that people would attribute malice or prejudice to voters like herself. But she hastens to add that her views, and those of her partner George, aren’t necessarily typical of Vienna’s affluent 19th district. “There are very rich people here, so they vote for the party who protects their interests… You’ll see a lot of big houses, so I think the OVP, the People’s Party, would do well.”

The OVP is the more traditional centre-right party of Austrian politics, and wins the most seats in the 19th district. Yet the city’s voting patterns are diverse. This is partly a result of the policies of successive social democratic administrations placing the integration of social classes and income levels at the heart of their municipal agenda. Subsidised housing can be found alongside wealthy private apartments in the city centre designed by Renzo Piano, and at the foot of the city’s vineyards near up-market wine taverns. Kurt Puchinger, chair of wohnfonds_wien, the city’s land and housing fund, tells me that the council “do not want to have a situation where you can identify the social status of a person by their home address.”

Despite the SDAP’s century-long efforts to promote social cohesion, recent years have seen the rise the FPO’s vote share at the expense of the left. Favoriten is a more solidly working class area of Vienna in the 10th district. There, according to Monica, “most vote for the Freedom Party because they are for stopping migration.” She pauses to consider her words. “Not stopping. Trying to find a way to filter them and control them. Every country has a problem like this.”

Monica’s feeling for the electoral preferences of each of the various Viennese districts proves accurate. After the war, Favoriten elected communists as their local representatives. The district's loyalties quickly switched to the social democrats, and until 2005 the party could comfortably expect to receive over half the votes there, consistently getting more than double the votes of both the far-right Freedom Party and the centre-right People’s Party. But in the most recent 2015 election, the Freedom Party won 24 seats and 38 per cent of the vote, only two points and one seat behind the social democrats. In Austria nationally, the People’s Party, headed by a 32-year-old leader, Sebastian Kurz, with Patrick Bateman overtones, has formed a government with the Freedom Party – but their coalition collapsed ignominiously in May.

Neither Austria as a whole, nor Favoriten in particular, are outliers. In France, Le Pen’s National Rally polls well in the Communist Party’s former “ceinture rouge” outside Paris. In Britain, Labour’s post-industrial heartlands are turning towards the Brexit Party, while blue collar workers in America’s rust belt have backed Donald Trump. And in Vienna, neither the impressive legacy of the SDAP nor the continually high standard of living (the city was rated as the world’s most liveable for the 10th time in 2018 by Mercer, the consultancy giant) is enough to stem the tide of right-wing populism.

Until he was unseated as leader following a corruption scandal in May, Heinz-Christian Strache positioned the FPO as the party of the working class, a guarantor of Austrian identity, and the protector of a generous welfare system now threatened by an influx of migrants. “We believe in our youth,” ran one of his slogans, “the [social democrats] in immigration.”

Sofia is a masseuse who has lived in Karl Marx-Hof for 19 years with her partner and his son. “People are angry with the social democrats now because of refugees,” she told me. “They should change this... They should say ‘we are on the left but we can’t accept everybody here.’” The view that the party have abandoned their traditional voters is widespread, but Sofia isn’t fond of the alternatives. “The FPO – the Nazis – you can’t vote for the Nazis… anyone who votes FPO isn’t my friend… But I won’t vote for the People’s Party because they do everything for rich people, not normal people.”

Sofia reserves her strongest criticism for the youthful Sebastian Kurz, who is likely to become head of another People’s Party-led coalition after elections in September. “I’m scared of him,” she says. “I think he’s a psychopath. I think he’s not a normal person.”

Like many Viennese, Sofia admires the legacy of Red Vienna: “The socialists did a lot of really good things. We are the only city in the world that has so much state housing. And they brought in pensions, health insurance, a lot of things.” But she’s not sure they will get her vote in 2019. In an era of polarisation and anti-establishment rhetoric, the most fertile yet unoccupied political ground seems to be for a radical, redistributive economic programme, coupled with a more conservative vision of shared responsibilities and values, national sovereignty, and sociocultural issues.

“Even in the working class areas of the city,” sighs Kurt Puchinger, the city’s housing fund chair, “less people are voting social democrat. And this is a pity.” 100 years since the old radical Social Democratic Workers’ Party was first elected by a restive, war-weary working class, the working class remains restive, but while the SDAP’s flagship Karl Marx-Hof still stands, the bricks no longer seem to be speaking for them.