Paris vs Tokyo: the two different models for express commuter rail stopping patterns

A commuter at Tokyo's Shinjuku station. Image: Getty.

Many cities have large commuter rail networks, which function as urban rapid transit and extend into the suburbs. They use mainline rail rather than separate subway tracks, but are identical in other respects to conventional metro systems: urban stop spacing, frequency, and fares are all within the range of metro systems.

The biggest systems are in Japan, where Tokyo and Osaka carry the vast majority of their public transport passengers on commuter trains and not metro trains. In Europe, the biggest system is the Paris RER, while in the German-speaking world all major cities have S-Bahn networks.

But while the concepts are all broadly similar – mainline trains serving the suburbs share tracks in the core, so as to provide metro-like frequency – the stopping patterns vary.

First, some regional rail systems run express trains, whereas others are all local. The Munich and Berlin S-Bahns only have local trains. In contrast, the Paris RER and the Tokyo commuter rail network combine local and express trains – sometimes on four tracks, and sometimes on two, using the schedule to avoid conflicts.

Usually, systems that run express trains are bigger than systems that do not, but there are exceptions: Copenhagen's S-Train has express trains on most branches, and the Zurich S-Bahn has express trains on some lines as well.

On systems that are not modernised, express trains are especially common. That’s because the traditional function of commuter rail is to connect the suburbs with city center at rush hour; local services, connecting the suburbs with each other and not just with the city, are less important.

As a result, American commuter lines, even ones with very little ridership by European or Asian standards, generally have express trains: each stopping pattern might only get 1 or 2 trains per hour at rush hour. So do a few European branches, for example some of the outer commuter lines in Paris, not connected to the RER. Since these lines carry few riders, the important distinction is between different local and express patterns on busy lines that run frequently all day.

There isn't much to say about local trains, which (mostly) stop at every station. Express trains are more complex, and there are two ways to run them: one common in Paris, the other common in Tokyo. The Parisian model is to have long central segments with only two tracks, on which every train makes every stop. (In London, Crossrail is planned to follow the same pattern.) Tokyo’s railways have four-track segments, and express trains skip some stops even in the core.

Tokyo-style express trains may skip fewer stops in the centre than in dormitory communities, but they still skip even some central areas. On the eight-track main between Tokyo and Shinagawa Stations on the Tokaido Line, for example, the local Yamanote and Keihin-Tohoku Lines make all four intermediate stops; but the express Tokaido Main Line and Yokosuka Lines only make one intermediate stop, at Shimbashi. Central Tokyo stretches roughly between Tokyo Station and Shimbashi, and there is one station between them, Yurakucho, with transfers to four Tokyo subway lines. But in the judgement of rail planners, it made sense to skip this station, and for express trains to serve just one in every so many stops on the inner part of the line.

In Paris, no such thing service exists: the central tunnels only have two tracks, so it is hard to arrange local and express trains on them. Even on the few segments of the central network that have four tracks, such as part of RER C, there is no stop skipping. The transport authorities judge it best to have every commuter train make every stop within the city proper, which extends about 5 km out of the center.

Conversely, in the suburbs, Paris does mix some local and express trains on two tracks: the RER B runs 12 trains per hour off-peak – just enough room for trains which run non-stop between Gare du Nord and Charles-de-Gaulle Airport, and some express trains in the southern suburbs.

The Parisian approach ensures that the RER can function as high-frequency trunk lines within the city proper. The RER A averages a stop per 2.5 km on the central trunk, and the RER B and C a stop every 1.2-1.3 km (the other two RER lines, the D and E, only make three city stops each). The Metro averages a stop every 500 meters, of course – but nonetheless, 1.2-1.3 km is well within the range for international metro systems, comparable to the spacing of stations on the London Underground. The central Crossrail trunk will average a stop every 1.6 km – wider than the Underground but not much more so.

In Tokyo, of course, the commuter rail frequency in the core is even higher, since the inner lines are all at least four-tracked. But farther out, there are express and local trains mixed on two tracks, with timed overtakes, using the legendary punctuality of Japanese railways to schedule trains to avoid conflicts. The result is that the express routes have quite wide stop spacing, which permits higher speeds, approaching 60 km/h on the Tokaido and Tohoku Main Lines.


A smaller city, with trunk lines not as full to capacity as in Tokyo, Paris, or London, could mix local and express trains even at rush hour. In Tokyo, local and express trains are mixed on some lines on the shoulders of rush hour (but not at rush hour, when trains arrive every 2 minutes); it is unclear what the absolute upper limit of this system would be, but it appears to be in the range of 15-20 trains per hour. In cities without Japanese punctuality, the limit is about 12 trains per hour: a local train and an express train each coming every 10 minutes, with an overtake every 6-8 stations.

Such cities have a choice. The Paris approach works very well for Paris, and the Tokyo approach works very well for Tokyo. There is always a tradeoff in mass transit between narrow stop spacing for service to more places, and wide stop spacing for higher average speed.

The two different approaches for commuter rail express stopping patterns display a related tradeoff, between higher frequency to all stations and higher average speed at express stations. Which of the two approaches is better depends on local factors. These include city size and density (more sprawl encourages the faster Tokyo approach, more density encourages the more frequent Paris approach); punctuality (better punctuality makes mixing local and express trains on two tracks easier); and how important it is that suburban commuters be able to reach every urban station, rather than just a few major stations.

There is no inherent better choice. The tradeoff is not that one option is more beneficial but more expensive, but rather that the two options have different benefit levels, depending on local conditions.

Those conditions can vary widely between cities, even in the same country. A smaller French or British city might find that its home and job distribution makes the Tokyo approach better, and a smaller Japanese city might find that the Paris approach works better for it.

Cities anywhere might even find that the German approach of not having any express trains works best. This means that planners should consider all stopping patterns, and not just default to what is familiar from nearby cities.

Alon Levy blogs at Pedestrian Observations and tweets as @alon_levy.

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How the rise of anti-crime politics caused lasting harm to Black Americans

"I see an awareness that has developed in the Black community in the last 10 years or so about how deeply racist the criminal justice system has become," James Forman Jr. says. (David McNew/Getty Images)

The police killing of George Floyd, and the protest movement that emerged from it, has reinvigorated a national conversation around reinventing criminal justice policy in the United States.

At the same time, reports that violent crime is rising in many US cities have resurrected talk of the much-disputed “Ferguson effect,” a theory put forward by law enforcement professionals, and some researchers, who argued that police slowdowns in the wake of the first wave of Black Lives Matter protests resulted in elevated rates of violent crime. President Donald Trump is trying to weaponise this narrative, paired with images of federal officers clashing with protesters in the streets of Portland, to wage a 1968-style backlash election campaign.

“People who want to mobilise a lock-them-up style of either policing or prosecution have tried to weaponise those short-term increases,” says James Forman Jr., professor of law at Yale Law School. “Criminologists will say you have to be very, very cautious about short-term movement [in crime statistics]. We don't know whether or not what we're seeing right now [with violent crime increasing] is going to sustain itself. But the fact is, it's here and people are talking about it.”

In 2018, Forman won the Pulitzer Prize in nonfiction for his book Locking Up Our Own: Crime and Punishment in Black America. Drawing on his experience as a public defender in Washington, DC, he traced the emergence of anti-crime politics in late 20th century Black communities. Forman showed how newly empowered Black politicians fought for policies they believed would protect and uplift Black Americans, but inadvertently contributed to mass incarceration. 


CityMetric recently caught up with Forman to discuss crime trends, where he sees reason for hope in this moment and how the Black political class’s attitude toward crime and punishment has shifted since the latter part of the 20th century. 

This interview has been edited and condensed. 

There is talk right now about a resurgence of crime and violence in American cities. We saw similar, more localised concerns after the initial 2015 Black Lives Matter protests in Ferguson and Baltimore. Do you fear this could reinvigorate the kind of politics you describe in your book among segments of the Black community and political class?

I fear that it could be reinvigorated nationally and also in the Black political class. Look at the political conversations that are happening in Atlanta right now, for example, a city that also has seen a short-term uptick in crime as it is a site of a lot of protests about George Floyd and Breonna Taylor on the national level, as well as Rayshard Brooks and Ahmaud Arbery more locally in Georgia.

I think that you can already see in some of the language of the local elected officials this idea that we have to be very careful about pulling back. [They are saying] “while the protesters may make some valid points, we can't risk returning to the ‘80s and ‘90s.” Those decades really traumatised the United States, and particularly traumatised Black communities. There's a deep fear about returning to the levels of the violence that we saw in the crack years.

You write a lot about class divides among Black Americans, where middle income and elite Black people don't suffer as much from extremely punitive policies. They also have closer ties to the politicians who are creating these policies. There are very specific groups of people, even in marginalised communities, whose voices are heard.  As a result of these dynamics, you write about Black politicians fighting for things like mandatory minimum prison sentences or against decriminalising marijuana. Is there still that disconnect between those who suffer the most from criminal justice policies and those who are actually heard in political discourse?  

Let me just say a caveat, that when we talk about class divisions in the Black community it's important to hold two truths in our head at the same time. Bruce Western and others have shown the way in which class, educational status, income can dramatically reduce the likelihood of being hardest hit by the criminal system – namely incarcerated. Middle class and upper middle class Black people get some measure of protection. It's also true at the same time that Black people of all classes are worse off relative to their class counterparts in the white community. 

One area where class is least protective is policing and police stops. The police do not know how many degrees you have. They don't know how much money you have in your bank account. I want to be very clear that in making this point about class, I'm not making the argument that race or racism don't matter in this context. 

In terms of how it plays out now, I see an awareness that has developed in the Black community in the last 10 years or so about how deeply racist the criminal justice system has become. Twenty or 30 years ago they had a consciousness, but there's levels of understanding. Many of the people I write about in the book wanted to promote the interests of the Black community. They weren't motivated by indifference or callousness. When presented with mounting evidence of how awful this system has been in Black lives, they're reconsidering and recalibrating. 

Lots of former elected officials have said to me some version of “I didn't know at the time and I appreciate that you showed us in our full complexity. I appreciate that you showed the pressures we were under. If I had known then what I know now, maybe I would have been less quick to go along with some of these harsh measures.” 

The second thing that has affected the Black political class has been the emerging movements, led by Black people in particular and led by young people. They not only educated leaders, but pressured them and made them understand that there is a political cost. If you're not moved by the moral argument, then you'll be moved by the political argument. You'll be moved by the people protesting outside the office of District Attorney Jackie Lacey in Los Angeles, for example, where Black Lives Matter LA has held, I believe, a year of consecutive protests against a Black district attorney who has had really some of the worst practices.

From what I can tell, she's been pressured by the movement to change some of her positions on important issues like prosecution of low-level drug offenders, for example, and the aggressiveness with which she prosecutes police officers for acts of violence.

What do you make of the calls to defend or even abolish the police?

What I find so compelling about abolition, initially in the prison context and extended to the police as well, is that it shifts the conversation and forces us to go through experiments in which we imagine what it would take to build that world. I think that exercise is very important, because it pushes us further than we are naturally inclined to go. Cultivating a broader imagination is an incredibly important part of this work, because as you know from my book, often it was lack of imagination that caused people to fall back on [punitive policies]. 

That's what caused D.C. Councilmember David Clarke to call the police rather than public health experts when he was overwhelmed with letters about heroin addicts in public space. He was anti-drug war, but he couldn't imagine responding to a call for help with heroin addicts with anything other than police. That's a very common move from even really good and progressive people. 

People who are for defunding, for abolition, are absolutely right about reinvesting that money into alternative structures that support communities. But the reinvestment part doesn't follow naturally from the terms. We might want to come up with a term that captures the new stuff we want to do. I think that's particularly important because one of the reasons Black communities have ended up supporting more police is that Black communities have always wanted their fair share of the resources.

Then, the evidence suggests the United States has too many police officers doing prophylactic, preventative, or stop-and-frisk style policing. The style of policing that leads to district level harassment, pulling people over for no reason. But we have too little investment in the parts of police departments that investigate unsolved crimes. I'm talking about the investigator or the detective who comes to your house after there's been a robbery, an assault, a rape, or homicide. 

As compared to European countries, in the United States we actually underinvest in those parts of our police departments. Jill Leovy’s book Ghettoside shows this in dramatic detail. She describes an LAPD that's stopping and frisking Black drivers wantonly and yet the homicide detectives are still relying on a fax machine and the fax machine is broken. They have to go with their own money to Staples to buy a printer. Meanwhile, other aspects of the department are kitted out in this ridiculous riot gear that makes them look like they're in Fallujah. 

That under investment is particularly damaging to Black communities because we're disproportionately victimised by crime. Because of racism and this allocation of resources, the police are less likely to respond in Black communities. The kids I used to work with in the charter schools in DC, we talk about no snitching, but one of the reasons they would never call the police after they'd been victimised by crime is they would say, “They're not even going to come. You're wasting time.” 

I did a Q&A with Jill Leovy too and her argument is one I've struggled to articulate in our present moment. She argues the state doesn't have a monopoly on violence in low-income Black neighbourhoods, because investigations of violence are deemphasised and crime victims or their loved ones often take retribution into their own hands.  But right now, establishing or preserving the state's monopoly on violence isn't an appealing talking point. 

Yes, this is another thing nobody's talking about. Whatever we're going to do instead of the police has to be accountable to the public. The best, most direct way to have accountability is to have the individuals be public employees. As long as we have 300 million guns in this country at least some of those state employees are going to themselves be armed. It's unreasonable to ask them to do the job without it. Not as many need to be armed as are armed now, but some of them need to be. But they can't be hiding behind union contracts or civil service protections which make it impossible to remove even the worst performing, most abusive officers. 

We can not call them police if we want to. That's semantic, but maybe symbolism matters. But those people have to be state employees. They can work with community-based nonprofits, but there are also communities that don't have as robust of a nonprofit network, and they deserve protection too. These [community] groups have to be accountable to the state and, when they don't exist, the state has to be there. 

Progressives get all the points I just made when it's applied to education. The notion that things be public and accountable to the state is understood when it comes to schools. It's exactly why so many people on the left are opposed to charter schools, because they say they don't have public accountability. They want these things to be a state function. But this point about the difficulty in removing this entirely from the hands of the state is, I think, one that liberals and progressives understand from other contexts.

Jake Blumgart is a staff writer at CityMetric.