Three new trends that could avert city gridlock

Gridlock in Paris, 2007. Image: Getty.

From London to Delhi, e-hailing companies like Uber and journey-planning apps like CityMapper are fast transforming the way people move around cities.

When you’re rushing to work and your home is miles from a train station, the bus is not due for 30 minutes and the city bike-hire scheme hasn’t reached your part of town yet, you are increasingly likely to reach for your smartphone to find the closest car-club vehicle, or to hail a taxi.

But what if we all did that to travel around our cities? Imagine the congestion and air pollution as people flock to cars.

So how do we fill the gaps in the public transport system without grinding our neighbourhoods to a standstill? How can our kids get to school without also getting asthma? Even if everyone uses electric driverless vehicles, what would that do for the sheer number of cars in our cities? With the greatest urban migration in history expected over the next 20 years, increasing the number of people living in cities from 3.5bn to 5bn, the stakes are high.

We were among those who produced the first global study to track this new wave of innovations in transport technologies, and our conclusions are bold. There are three major opportunities for city governments to use new technologies to take the battle out of your trip across town.

Firstly, trip-planning and ticketing smart-phone apps can make it easier for passengers to use real-time information to plan and pay for their journeys – seamlessly hopping from tube to bus to e-taxi, to car-sharing, cycle-hire or walking. Better information is proving the driving force behind changes in the choices we are making. In Los Angeles for example, the Go-LA app not only offers all the many options for getting from A to B, it lets users compare the time, cost, health benefits (calories burned) and climate emissions involved.

Secondly, fleets of on-demand electric minibuses could replace underused traditional bus routes in less densely populated areas on the edge of cities. Transport authorities are under pressure to meet demand while controlling operating costs. Buses, tubes and trams are often the most efficient and clean mode of urban transport, but only if a lot of the seats are occupied.


Modelling of four Greater London bus routes found that, even with the additional cost of purchasing electric minibuses and routing software, the scheme could make a profit in 4 years and cut climate emissions and nitrogen pollution by up to 99 per cent.

Thirdly, e-hailing can help passengers cover the first and last mile of their trips to and from public transport stations. Evidence from the USA shows use of public transport drops by up to 90 per cent when passengers need to walk more than half a mile to the nearest transport stop. Cities that have subsidised e-hailed shared electric taxis to and from transit hubs have improved residents’ access to public transport, boosted ridership and fare revenues, and reduced the number of lengthy journeys people take using private cars into the centre of cities. Subsidies can be targeted at those most in need.

The research by the Coalition for Urban Transitions argues that better data could enable city governments to use on-demand electric minibuses and e-hailed taxis to fill the gaps in mass transit systems. If managed well, these new technologies can help to channel people towards mass public transport hubs, cycle schemes and walking options. Ultimately, the aim is to move people away from private cars by improving the efficiency and experience of other transport options.

There is one take-home message:  both the public and private sectors need to understand the potential and risks of these rapidly emerging technologies, and plan for them. Banning e-hailing companies or autonomous cars from city streets, as many have done, ultimately won’t fix transport systems. City halls and national governments need to prepare regulation that ensures transport systems, as they evolve, are safe, convenient, fair, affordable and sustainable. And they need to consider whether and how public-private collaborations could deliver better services for urban residents.

If cities can do this, innovations in mobiIty services could help liberate our cities from gridlock and air pollution – rather than compound the problem.

Louise Hutchins is an advisor to the Coalition for Urban Transitions, former special advisor to the Ecuadorian government and led Greenpeace UK’s energy campaigns. Julia Thayne is the Director of Urban Development for the Siemens’ Center for Cities in the Americas and co-author of the report. 

 
 
 
 

It’s not all cool bridges and very real concerns: In defence of Teesside

Just one of the many interesting bridges you’ll find in Teesside. Image: Stephen Jorgensen-Murray.

The latest entry in our ‘In Defence Of’ series...

I have to start this with a disclaimer: I’m not writing this from anywhere in Teesside. I’m writing this from Germany, where I live and work. Some of you may remember being told by Norman Tebbit, that instead of complaining that we can’t find jobs, we should get on our bikes (or, more recently, by IDS to get on a bus), and I did. I’m paid well here, to do a job that doesn’t really exist in Teesside. And yet, every time I go home to visit my family, I almost wish I’d stayed.

This isn’t going to be a very straightforward take – I’m hoping to pay my respects to Stockton, Middlesbrough and Hartlepool as well as my native Billingham – but Teesside isn’t a very straightforward place. What county is it in? Cleveland, Stockton-on-Tees, Durham or North Yorkshire depending on how old you are and where you’re standing. I always had great fun ordering online and trying to guess which of the unfamiliar options on the dropdown menu would get my parcel to me.

But regardless of where you draw the lines, Teesside is still there.

Our accent is similarly hard to pin down: Geordie, Mackem, Yorkshire, even Scouse, depending on who’s imitating us. I’ve been pegged as Irish, American and South African by determined people in the past. Our slang is stolen from Scotland, Northumberland, Newcastle and Yorkshire, and, not satisfied, some words are purely our own. Hoy, shan, howay, dinner nanny. We have as many words for classless people as the Romans did for murder.

But regardless of how it sounds to you, Teesside still talks.


On a map of the UK, Teesside sits as an isolated blob of civilisation between the Dales and the sea. Half-urban, half-rural, half-seaside, half-inland, half industrial estate and half nature reserve. A Labour heartland with a Tory mayor. Places that sprang up fully formed in the ICI rush of the 1950s, but that still have Viking place names.

We’ve been portrayed in fiction by Richard Milward, in song by Maximo Park, in statistics by Lady Florence Bell and in cinema by Sir Ridley Scott (our chemical works and power plants inspired the look of Blade Runner). More recently, we’re being portrayed in documentary in The Mighty Redcar, and in the media as an area of left-behind, white working class racists who all voted Leave. But while most of the area is whiter than the average, Middlesbrough mirrors the UK average for racial diversity and has been assigned to resettle more refugees than any other town in the UK – and more than its cut-back council can look after.

And when you look at the numbers, the proportion of the population of Teesside who voted to leave the EU is much less than many other areas. (And yes, of course I voted Remain from my now slightly more precarious home in Frankfurt, joining 100,000 other Teesside Remainers.)

We’re pitied for the loss of the Teesside steelworks and derided for blaming the EU for it (when of course it was our own government’s sabotaging of EU attempts to block Chinese steel dumping that drove that knife in). Even the people who profess to be on our side take our angry, uneducated racism as fact, baking it into the premises of their arguments, which consist of addressing our “racist but real concerns”, and how to reach us.

But whether you understand us or not, whether you miss the point or not, we’ll continue to exist, long after we’ve been forgotten again.

Billingham town centre. One of the first pedestrianised town centres in the UK. Image: Stephen Jorgensen-Murray.

Still, while we’re in the spotlight, why not see what we have to offer? Come to see our rather wonderful collection of interesting bridges. See where the first public steam train ran, from Stockton to Darlington. Visit Mima, the modern art gallery in Middlesbrough and the 1960s utopia of Billingham’s pedestrianised town centre. Feel slightly uncomfortable around all the things that are named for Captain Cook (though the replica of the Endeavour at Stockton riverside is impressive regardless on your thoughts on its captain – and it’s the best you’ll see until they work out whether they’ve found the real one yet). Wander Middlesbrough’s thriving student/hipster district on Linthorpe RoadD – despite being a punchline during my youth, Teesside University has become a respected institution. Visit Billingham’s Folklore Festival in August, where as schoolchildren we’d watch troupes of folk dancers from across the world open-mouthed, and get their autographs afterwards as though they were celebrities.

Fried chicken, white sauce and cheese make the Teesside parmo. Perfect. Image: Stephen Jorgensen-Murray.

Try a parmo. Try the Billingham Catholic Club’s real ale, and stay for the bingo, which is called by a man with the most acrobatic mental arithmetic skills I’ve ever seen. Try a lemon top ice cream from Pacitto’s in Redcar and wonder why no one else has ever done this before. Lemon sorbet and vanilla ice cream! Together at last!

While you’re at the beach, take a ride on the Saltburn Cliff Lift, the oldest operating water-balance cliff lift in the UK. Pretend Saltburn is sort of in Teesside while you’re enjoying the view. Look out on beaches black with sea coal, washed up from undersea seams and nearby coal mines. Visit the golf course by Seaton Carew to catch a glimpse of a curlew or two, and watch the young seagulls pick up golf balls to crack them open by dropping them from a great height. Visit Seal Sands, whose owners can be observed lazing on the estuary banks whenever the tide is out. Or visit Saltholme, the RSPB nature reserve, where you can see avocets, Britain’s weirdest-looking and most beloved seabird.

Nature coexists with industry on Teesside. Image: Stephen Jorgensen-Murray.

Go white water rafting, bell boating or paddleboarding at the Tees Barrage, where there are so many seals that they’ve had to put up guards to keep them out of the way. The Tees used to be too polluted even to support salmon and trout, and now we have too many of one of Britain’s largest native mammals. The return of the seals to the Tees was the first documented case of seals returning to an industrial area. You’d be surprised at how well nature can thrive in the shadow of industry, colonising the quiet fields and marshy ponds on private land that are never disturbed, haunted by sika deer and shelducks, redshanks, knots, stonechats.

Teesside has plenty to offer. What it doesn’t have is the jobs to keep its younger generations from having to get on their bikes and leave. We aren’t aliens, or Jacob Rees-Mogg’s army of goblin henchbrexiteers. We’re just like you, but with more seals and fewer employment opportunities.