London’s Gospel Oak to Barking line might be about to lose all its trains to Birmingham

A train approaches Leytonstone High Road. Image: Matt Buck/Wikimedia Commons.

The Gospel Oak to Barking Line, known as the GOBLIN because rail nerds share interests with other sorts of nerds, is a remnant of London’s industrial past, running through the former industrial suburbs of London’s outer north-east. Like most of the London Overground, it’s made up of a bunch of old railways that were built for freight or as waggly commuter routes, which became utterly useless in the early 20th century when commuters shifted to the Tube and cargo shifted to vans.

Angry locals – Oh Dr Beeching! but with a London flair – kept the GOBLIN alive during these days, but it suffered from the dominance of the car and the decline of London’s population. Unlike nearly all suburban London lines, the line was never electrified. After World War II, it no longer shifted people to the heart of the city but to Hampstead, which in those days was surprisingly low on wine bars and Tesco Metros.

Privatisation didn’t help much. National Express’s Silverlink subsidiary ran the line along with its more successful electrified North London Line cousin. But as London’s population grew and businesses moved to more distant suburbs, traffic rose again, and in 2007 the Labour government shifted control of the relevant lines to Transport for London’s new London Overground.

If you’ve been on the Overground, you’ll note that its lines have excellent turn-up-and-go service with modern electric trains that are like Tube ones but better. If you’ve been on the GOBLIN, you’ll note that it doesn’t – it has 2000s diesel trains that are a bit less awful than old diesel trains but still not great, and only turn up every now and then.

As London kept growing, the obvious plan came forward: TfL and Network Rail came up with a plan to electrify the line and bring in the same kind trains that exist on the rest of the Overground, and give everyone in the north-east of the capital the same deal as people elsewhere.

But they didn’t.

The first bit was Network Rail’s fault. Like many of its recent electrification projects, it overpromised and underdelivered timings; the line was closed last year to put up new overhead wires, but they didn’t work until the end of this year. This is a systematic problem with Network Rail’s upgrade project management, which was unfortunate for all involved.

The second bit was TfL’s fault. It didn’t take the same Bombardier trains that run successfully on the rest of the Overground, but ordered some fancy new trains that are supposed to do the same thing but better in every respect. Instead of being analogue technology, they are a smart computer with a train attached.


Unfortunately, this makes them hard to debug. It’s understandable if you’ve ever sat waiting for your smartphone to upgrade so you can listen to a podcast – software is hard, and everything these days is software. But bringing software to train design is new, and one might think that the people responsible for doing this would have thought about how long it takes. At least a bit. But they didn’t.

This problem is hitting a lot of new trains in the UK (and the rest of the world) right now, across train providers – mechanical engineers and software engineers don’t quite understand each other enough. So the fancy new trains that are supposed to be better than the last generation actually aren’t. It’s hard for them to run up enough hours to even be allowed to serve in passenger service.

Under Tf’L’s original plans for the GOBLIN, this would have been OK – the current diesel Class 172s were supposed to stay until the new electric Class 710s were in power. But there’s a big shortage of diesel trains in the UK, so the Department for Transport insisted that the 172s went to the West Midlands Railway franchise to boost services around Birmingham. TfL – under the previous mayor, who you may remember from certain gameshows and zipwires – signed up to transfer the trains early.

But the trains aren’t early. Two of the eight 172s on the GOBLIN have already been sent to the West Midlands, which leaves the GOBLIN service a mess because it requires all six trains to run a peak service. TfL is desperately trying to keep the trains running day-to-day by cancelling weekend services.

The 710s are still struggling to make it into operation. And – best of all – all eight 172s are now long-term leased by West Midlands Trains, who want the lot back for the 2019 season.

If TfL doesn’t keep the old trains at the start of 2019, they’ll have to replace the whole line with a bus, which if you’ve tried to get a bus in northeast London lately, will be upsetting. But if it does keep them, then the good people of Birmingham will forgo their much-touted new service upgrade. And contractually, the trains belong to West Midlands Railway, so only a government intervention could shift them.

Will the current government intervene to save Sadiq Khan from a problem of everyone else’s making? I’m no Malcolm Tucker, but I still reckon this one is “fucking unlikely”, given how popular the mayor is among the governing party. Northeast London commuters should look forward to a winter of some discontent.

 
 
 
 

In New Zealand, climate change is driving an eco-nationalist revival

The green and pleasant land of the South Island. Image: Getty.

“Ten years ago I would have called them settler f*****g land squatters,” Mike Smith, Maori-dom’s most tenacious activist, said last November as he reflected on the agriculture industry’s central role in driving climate change. “Now I have to try and get these people on board.”

Smith is infamous for taking a chainsaw to Auckland’s most prominent tree on a damp October night in 1994 in protest of the “Pākehā” – or white European –dominated government’s fiscal envelope restraining treaty settlements. Now he’s turned his hand to another cause close-to-home for the Maori, New Zealand’s indigenous population: the environment.

“We’re super vulnerable, like we are to anything,” Smith says. “When it comes to climate change it’s like the poorest people in the world are going to be hit the hardest first, and that’s a lot of us.”

Prime Minister Jacinda Ardern appears, at least rhetorically, the most sympathetic leader to his cause in a decade. In her campaign launch speech late last year, she made the future government’s position clear: “Climate change is my generation’s nuclear free moment.”

This message should resonate with followers of her Labour party: the NZ left has long nurtured an environment-orientated “culture-of-protest”. So Ardern’s call to arms was bound to gain her loyal support among children of the 1960s and ‘70s, who led the march against nuclear ship visits, spurring on the government of the time to wriggle out from the US nuclear umbrella, and place a ban on foreign nuclear ship visits.

Now, it is to the tycoons of deep sea oil exploration they aim to close NZ’s ports.

In this, Smith is not short of support locally, with marches run by grassroots organisations and international animal welfare funds beginning to gain traction with every day New Zealanders. In this, Ardern’s prediction is correct: the Coal Action Network Aotearoa (CANA), is reminiscent of the Campaign for Nuclear Disarmament (CND), an earlier cluster of left-wing pacifists and nature lovers who drove the creation of the nuclear free zone.  

In December, 15,000 passionate protesters marched through the capital. And with the government’s recent ban of offshore oil exploration projects, Jeanette Fitzsimons, former Green party co-leader and the head of CANA, is optimistic about similar change to the energy and farming sectors.

The Labour-NZ First-Green party coalition seems focused on setting a new global precedent, weaning NZ away from a United States which has jettisoned the Paris Agreement. The move replicates another 20 years ago, when New Zealand’s anti-nuclear movement was central to an upsurge in New Zealand nationalism. Now, the same sense of going it alone on foreign policy is apparent both locally and in Parliament.

Dr. Gradon Diprose, a senior lecturer at Massey University, argues that this echoes an older expression of colonial nationalism, that saw “New Zealand as a land of natural abundance”. This: “eco-nationalism” is centered on “protecting certain visions of picturesque landscapes and unspoiled natural beauty”. The slogan “Clean, green New Zealand” is prevalent in popular culture and tourism marketing. The public seems to have latched onto it too, and ranked keeping NZ’s waterways “clean and green” top of a recent survey of of kiwis’ top concerns.

Three decades ago, it was the 10 July 1985 sinking of the Greenpeace flagship Rainbow Warrior that thrust local activists’ fears into the public eye, resulting in an almost nation-wide expression of climate-protectionism.


The bombing, a French intelligence operation sparked by Greenpeace’s calls for an end to foreign nuclear testing in the Pacific, galvanised a great deal of change to New Zealand’s overseas defence policies. A lack of censure from New Zealand’s Western allies drove Wellington to distance itself from the United States, while the shock of seeing a friendly nation violate NZ’s sovereignty left many at home seething.

Thirty years on, the foreign policy split throughout the Anglosphere, regarding Russian-Western relations, globalism, and the old international rules-based order, is becoming wider. Climate change is just the tip of the iceberg.

Most Kiwis you talk to will shake their heads in disapproval at US president Donald Trump’s scandalous outing last year in Helsinki. But US defiance of internationally brokered climate resolutions is something they can see clearly reflected in rural communities across the country.

The country saw records broken at both ends of the extreme weather spectrum last year. As 2018 kicked off, Kiwis sweltered through the hottest summer on record, while in Golden Bay, a small inlet near the northern tip of the South Island, residents endured the largest flood in 150 years. So, when President Trump tweets “So much for Global Warming”, the majority of New Zealanders look back fondly on NZ’s 1985 decision to boycott the “ANZUS” treaty, putting New Zealand at odds with its war-time ally America on defence legislation.

Public calls to take the same track on environmental regulation have become louder in the wake of Donald Trump’s election. The former US Secretary of State, Rex Tillerson, received a frosty “unwelcome” while on a flyby to the capital in 2017, with the New York Times’ Washington correspondent, Gardiner Harris remarking: “I’ve never seen so many people flip the bird at an American motorcade as I saw today”. Protests against President Trump’s stance on climate change are beginning to gain greater traction further still, with the hundred-strong “march for science” setting the tone for the new government later that year.

New Zealand certainly isn’t afraid of radicalism, and its activists are persistent. It’s already banned single use plastics in supermarkets. Plenty more is to come, Smith says.

And yes, reform is going to inhibit sometimes vital industries: “It doesn’t matter which way you spin the dice on this, whatever’s being done is going to hurt. People who are looking for a painless way of mitigating climate change, [but] I don’t think there is one.”

But among Smith’s troupe of climate agitators, the feeling is that, without drastic change, “the land”, the heart of the Maori ethos, is going to be hurt far more.

Back in Auckland, NZ’s financial hub, an electric scooter craze is gripping the city. This, too, has gained the support of local environmentalists. In New Zealand, a national sense of pride is always coupled with a certain eccentricity. In a country this size, change always starts small.