If these wheels could speak: what will it take to make cycling find its voice?

Written by Robert Anderson| Unravelling the Cycling City – final essay

 I live in a city that was designed for cars. I work on climate change programs and policy for the Australian Government. I ride my bike every day, mostly as a commuter, and have a near-miss with a car at least once a week. I am an able-bodied, white-passing young male who grew in an English-speaking household.  Some of these details describe my identity; others describe my surrounding context. Together, they have influenced the way that I have grappled with the concept of the cycling city, and I acknowledge that this standpoint has permeated – consciously and unconsciously – the piece I present here. 

Canberra. Simply uttering this word will cause most Australians to grimace, roll their eyes, and tune out of the conversation. It’s the capital of Australia, a planned city that sits on the lands of the Ngunnawal people and other Indigenous groups. It’s also a city with a car problem. 
In 1970, the National Capital Development Commission outlined their vision for Canberra: a broad ‘Y-shape’, with population centres extending along all ‘arms’ of the letter¹ (see image below). As Erik Sparke wrote in his book about the development of the city, ‘the linear structure assumed a car-reliant society and provided arterial roads for travel within towns and between adjacent town and freeways on the peripheries for longer journeys.’ ² It would be reasonable to assume that cyclists weren’t part of the question when the city’s urban planning and infrastructure policy decisions were being made in the 1970s; indeed the document only includes the word ‘bicycle’ twice among its more than 230 pages.³ For the past 50 years, Canberra has dutifully followed this Y-shape development plan. While this approach to urban planning has certainly brought some benefits in amenities, it has also resulted in semi-isolated population centres separated by hills, mountains and other natural landmarks.

To give a sense of how spread out Canberra is, a journey from the northernmost part of the city to the southernmost would cover nearly 40 km – a significant distance for a city of only 450,000 people. For comparison, travelling from Saint-Denis in the north of Paris to the Paris-Orly airport in the south would be around 30 km. (This is also a generous comparison given that both of these locations are in Grand Paris rather than the 20 arrondissements of the city). Moving between population centres in Canberra is easy – but only if you drive a car.

This demographic reality matters because it affects our ability to address major challenges of this era, such as climate change. The local government here has a problem: it has set itself an ambitious target to reduce emissions across the Australian Capital Territory (largely Canberra) by 50-60% by 2025 compared to 1990 levels. Emissions from transport made up 63.6% of the total in 2021-22.⁴ While the Territory Government is making good progress, future emissions reductions look to be dependent on decarbonising and electrifying the transport system. In a city where, at last count, 80% of households own at least one car, 60% of people drive to work, and only 6% of people take active transport,⁵ what role can cycling play in this transformation?

Separation as the solution?

My initial view was that it was all about infrastructure: build it and they will come. The easiest solution, at least in my mind, was to construct more protected bike lanes and more safe parking areas. People would flock to their bicycles and the rest would take care of itself. It seemed the most obvious solution to the question of why more people don’t cycle. In the Australian Capital Territory’s Active Travel Plan, the first stated priority is ‘safe infrastructure for walking and cycling’, a key action of which is to ‘progressively convert on-road cycle lanes on priority routes to safe separated cycleways’.⁶

While there is no doubt that more high-quality cycling infrastructure is needed and is effective – notably in increasing rider safety⁷ – it is not a panacea. There are many other interrelated factors that influence our travel choices. As Oldenziel and de la Bruhèze write in their article on the political history of bicycle lanes in Europe, ‘investing in bicycle lanes to increase urban bicycle use is a laudable policy choice, but a singular focus on building bicycle lanes without embedding them in broad-based cycling cultures is likely to lead to technological rather than user-driven designs and solutions’ (p.30).⁸

I also see now that my initial view was influenced by ‘car-think’, i.e. applying automobile management solutions to the bicycle context. For example, the common approach to managing traffic congestion in Australia is for governments to attempt to build their way out of it by expanding freeways or constructing new ones. (As an aside, it is widely acknowledged that this approach does not work in urban areas, partly due to induced demand.⁹) Even the idea of building separated cycling lanes contains elements of car-think: as researcher Samuel Nello-Deakin writes, ‘dividing road space into a series of distinct functions does not necessarily match the existing situation on the ground, but rather replicates a car-centric imaginary which forces us to see road space as exclusive to a single mode of transport.’¹⁰

Mobility not just for mobility’s sake

The next part of the puzzle that resonated with me was about land use planning. A large determinant of my ability to cycle – or not – was shaped by the urban fabric around me. Being able to access markets, grocery stores, sporting complexes, offices, parks, schools, medical clinics, and bars and restaurants all within 20 minutes by bike feels like a rare privilege in most parts of Australian cities. 

What was the purpose of building separated cycling lanes if people would have to ride for at least 60 minutes to access their basic needs? And what would be the benefit of upgrading ‘priority routes’ for cyclists, which suggests key commuting journeys, when the main reason people travel by bike in Australia is for recreation, not transport?¹¹ In the city where I live, the expanse of low-density housing and lack of extensive public transport network seem to pose insurmountable barriers to making cycling the default. Embedding cycling within transit systems is a key way to improving the accessibility and sustainability of urban areas.¹² In other words, transport and land use planning policy have to be integrated.

The local government where I live is aware of this: their climate change, transport, and planning strategies all show elements of systems thinking in their approach. So why, then, were the issues of cycling not more prominent in policy debates, particularly around transport and health? Across Australia, from 2011-2016 state and federal governments spent $121.8 million on improving on-road and off-road cycling networks to key destinations in both urban and rural areas.¹³ Government spending on roads and rail over the same period would likely be in the tens or hundreds of billions of dollars. Why was cycling left out of the picture? Was this a case of not being ‘in the room where it happened’ (to quote from the musical Hamilton)? Why does cycling seem to lack influence in political decision-making?

Towards a voice for cycling

The key idea I have taken away from this course is that technocratic solutions cannot be separated from culture. It is relatively straightforward to build a separated cycling lane based on the latest engineering specifications and traffic management guidelines. Many workplaces are now providing secure bike parking and end-of-trip facilities. These initiatives, while welcome, fail to dig below the surface and address the deep-rooted culture in Australian cities: that movement should prioritise cars over people. 

Part of this problem is language. We seem to be lacking the words to describe the many unique experiences of cycling – for encapsulating ‘bikeness’. Put another way, what does it mean to ride a bike? It’s obvious that it’s neither walking nor driving, yet still I lack the vocabulary to describe the what, how and why succinctly. To me, cycling is a sweet spot of contradictory senses: mindful yet lucid, fast yet slow, freeing yet interconnected. As Jet McDonald writes in Mind is the Ride, “Bikeness may have less to do with the object itself than with how we connect to it”.¹⁴ Many people would agree that it would seem odd to treat pedestrians and motorists in the same way, even though they are both actors in our transport networks. In an article on urban design, researchers Ann Forsysth and Kevin Krizek write that:

‘If cyclists have substantially different experiences and needs, then urban design needs to stretch its repertoire to acknowledge that; pedestrian-, auto- and even transit-oriented design is insufficient.’¹⁵

So why has it been so easy to lump the needs of cyclists and motorists together, simply because they share the road?

Language matters because it gives shape and form to something previously indescribable.

Putting a name to a feeling is powerful – as we have seen, for example, in queer cultures. While words and labels shouldn’t exist solely for the sake of naming something, the realisation that your identity has a written and spoken reality that is shared by others should not be understated.

And while there is an incredible power for individuals to see themselves in mainstream media and culture, this extends beyond the individual to society at large. Language plays a part in shaping cultural narratives and perceptions towards certain groups of people. For example, for the past half century the automobile has been associated with individual freedom and emancipation – a realisation of the American dream. This has been carried through mainstream films, music, television, and other literature. I have seen plenty of popular films centred around road trips, but I’m not sure I could name one that features a cycling journey.

The car has permeated our vocabulary (at least in the English language) to the extent that it would be possible to tell people to ‘start their engines’, ‘get the show on the road’, ‘hit the gas’, and ‘hit the road’ – all within a professional context completely unrelated to driving a car. This acts as a way of normalising car culture. For example, the word ‘traffic’, which used to mean ‘carry on trade or commerce’, now almost exclusively refers to motor vehicle congestion, unless you specify otherwise (e.g. ‘air traffic’).¹⁶

The way we use language – through metaphors and idiomatic expressions for example – can improve societal acceptance of cycling as a valid activity. Humanising cyclists helps us feel more positive about them.¹⁷ As an indicator of where we sit currently, recent research found that cyclists who wore bike helmets and high-visibility vests were viewed as 30% ‘less human’ than other road users.¹⁸

In sum, we need to shift gears (pun intended!) when it comes to our cultural attitudes towards cycling.

Why ‘bikeness’ matters

The importance of ‘bikeness’ goes beyond the benefits of feeling seen in society – it also has policy implications. Firstly, even academia has not been immune from the cultural supremacy of the automobile and traffic engineering, resulting in analyses that to a certain extent unconsciously reproduce the same mindset. For example, academics have often applied the same automobile- and pedestrian-focussed frameworks when analysing the cycling environment, without any explicit recognition that what works for the former may not be suitable for the latter.¹⁹

Further, policy solutions may never be fully effective if they cannot grasp the concept of ‘bikeness’. For example, if cycling is only ever thought of as a means to get from A to B as quickly as possible, it will ignore other defining aspects of why and how we ride, such as: 

• we do not always take the most direct route on the map, because the alternative path is more beautiful or interesting²⁰
• riding two abreast is joyful²¹

References

• ^[1] National Capital Development Commission (1970) ‘Tomorrow’s Canberra! planning for growth and change:  the National Capital Development Commission’. Australian National University Press, Canberra. 
• ^[2] Sparke, E (1988), Canberra 1954-1980, AGPS Press, Canberra. Available for digital download at https://openresearch-repository.anu.edu.au/handle/1885/238273?mode=full.
• ^[3] National Capital Development Commission (1970).
• ^[4]Horan, K & Rao, N (2022), ‘ACT greenhouse gas inventory for 2021-22’, Prepared for Environment, Planning and Sustainable Development Directorate, ACT Government,  https://www.climatechoices.act.gov.au/__data/assets/pdf_file/0006/2122872/ACT-Greenhouse-Gas-Inventory-Report-2021-22.pdf.
• ^[5] Australian Bureau of Statistics (2022), ‘Australia’s journey to work: Information on the methods of travel used by Australians to get to work on Census day Tuesday 10 August, 2021,’ https://www.abs.gov.au/articles/australias-journey-work#travelling-to-work.
• ^[6] ACT Government (2022), ‘Active travel plan: consultation draft,’ Australian Capital Territory, Canberra, 16, https://hdp-au-prod-app-act-yoursay-files.s3.ap-southeast-2.amazonaws.com/2116/5889/4860/Draft_Active_Travel_Plan.pdf.
• ^[7] Marshall, W. E. & Ferenchak, N. N. (2019), ‘Why cities with high bicycling rates are safer for all road users,’ Journal of Transport & Health, vol. 13, June 2019, 10039, DOI: 10.1016/2019.03.004.
• ^[8] Oldenziel, R & de la Bruhèze, A (2011), ‘Contested Spaces: Bicycle Lanes in Urban Europe, 1900-1995,’ Transfers 1, no. 2, 31-49. ^[1] Downs, A (2004), Still Stuck in Traffic: Coping with Peak-Hour Traffic Congestion, Brookings Institution Press, Washington D.C.
• ^[9] Downs, A (2004), Still Stuck in Traffic: Coping with Peak-Hour Traffic Congestion, Brookings Institution Press, Washington D.C.
• ^[10] Nello-Deakin, S (2019), ‘Is there such a thing as a ‘fair’ distribution of road space?’, Journal of Urban Design, vol. 24, no. 5, 698-714, DOI: 10.1080/13574809.2019.1592664.
• ^[11] Munro, C (2021), National Walking and Cycling Participation Survey, Cycling and Walking Australia and New Zealand, https://www.cwanz.com.au/wp-content/uploads/2021/08/NWCPS_2021_report_v2.0.pdf.
• ^[12]Bertolini, L, & le Clercq, F (2003), ‘Urban development without more mobility by car? Lessons from Amsterdam, a multimodal urban region,’ Environment and Planning A, vol. 35, no. 4, 575–589, https://doi.org/10.1068/a3592; see also: Kager, R & Harms, L (2017), ‘Synergies from Improved Cycling-Transit Integration: Towards an integrated urban mobility system,’ Discussion paper prepared for the Roundtable on Integrated and Sustainable Urban Transport, https://www.itf-oecd.org/sites/default/files/docs/improved-cycling-transit-integration-synergies.pdf; and Pucher, J &  Buehler, R (2008), ‘Making Cycling Irresistible: Lessons from The Netherlands, Denmark and Germany,’ Transport Reviews, vol. 28, no.4, 495-528, DOI: 10.1080/01441640701806612.
• ^[13] Austroads (2017), ‘National Cycling Strategy: Implementation Report 2016’, 27 April 2017, https://austroads.com.au/publications/active-travel/ap-c93-17.
• ^[14] McDonald, J (2019), Mind is the Ride, Unbound Publishing, ISBN: 9781783529391.
• ^[15] Forsyth, A & Krizek, K, (2011) ‘Urban Design: Is there a Distinctive View from the Bicycle?. Journal of Urban Design,’ vol. 16, 531-549, DOI: 10.1080/13574809.2011.586239.
• ^[16] Derived from 14th century Italian verb trafficare; see also Verkade, T & Marco te Brömmelstroet (2022), Movement, Scribe Publications, Melbourne and London.
• ^[17] Delbosc, A, Naznin, F, Haslam, N & Haworth, N (2019), ‘Dehumanisation of cyclists predicts self-reported aggressive behaviour toward them: A pilot study,’ Transportation Research Part F: Traffic Psychology and Behaviour, vol. 62, 681-689, https://doi.org/10.1016/j.trf.2019.03.005.
• ^[18] Limb, M & Collyer, S (2023), ‘The effect of safety attire on perceptions of cyclist dehumanisation,’ Transportation Research Part F: Traffic Psychology and Behaviour, vol. 95, 494-509, https://doi.org/10.1016/j.trf.2023.05.008.
• ^[19] Forsyth & Krizek (2011).^[1] Tmnit H. H., Pullar, D., Pojani, D. & Asamoah, E. F., (2022) ’How much traffic stress can cyclists endure?’ Case Studies on Transport Policy, volume 10, issue 4, 2251-2261,https://doi.org/10.1016/j.cstp.2022.10.008; see also Stinson, M. A., & C. R. Bhat. Commuter Bicyclist Route Choice: Analysis Using a Stated Preference Survey. In Transportation Research Record: Journal of the Transportation Research Board, No. 1828, Trans- portation Research Board of the National Academies, Washington, D.C., 2003, pp. 107–115
• ^[20] Tmnit H. H., Pullar, D., Pojani, D. & Asamoah, E. F., (2022) ’How much traffic stress can cyclists endure?’ Case Studies on Transport Policy, volume 10, issue 4, 2251-2261,https://doi.org/10.1016/j.cstp.2022.10.008; see also Stinson, M. A., & C. R. Bhat. Commuter Bicyclist Route Choice: Analysis Using a Stated Preference Survey. In Transportation Research Record: Journal of the Transportation Research Board, No. 1828, Transportation Research Board of the National Academies, Washington, D.C., 2003, pp. 107–115
• ^[21] Hulster, G., Gielen, A., Dirks, J., & te Brömmelstroet, M. (2019), ‘Why We Cycle,’ Documentary, https://whywecycle.eu.
• ^[22] Liu, G., te Brömmelstroet, M., Krishnamurthy, S., & van Wesemael, P (2019), ‘Practitioners’ perspective on user experience and design of cycle highways,’ Transportation Research Interdisciplinary Perspectives, vol. 1, 100010. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.trip.2019.100010
• ^[23] Asher, N (2023), ‘Limited escape routes on new Melbourne bike path a safety risk to women, cyclists say,’ ABC News, published 6 March 2023, viewed 8 March 2023, https://www.abc.net.au/news/2023-03-05/melbourne-women-safety-west-gate-tunnel-bike-path/102051214. ^[1] te Brömmelstroet, M., Nello-Deakin, S., Quillien, J. & Bhattacharya, I. (2021), ‘Towards a pattern language for cycling environments: merging variables and narratives’, Applied Mobilities, vol. 6, no. 1, 35-53, DOI: 10.1080/23800127.2018.1505261.