Cyclists of York, unite. You have nothing to lose but the inadequacy of your lanes. This summer I spent some time bikepacking across Belgium, finishing up in Rotterdam in the Netherlands. My old sea dog of a bike was quite comically laden down with provisions, tent, sleeping bag etc. I was wearing a helmet, which is advisable. I was also persistently caked in mud. A few funny looks – half-frowns. The Belgians and the Dutch are tall people and, riding these very upright bikes, they appear awfully regal – neither do they smile. Nobody wears a helmet; no one feels the need to. Very few are clad in Lycra. I stood out as someone who wasn’t using their bike as part of the everyday. In the towns and cities, there exists a perfectly balanced ecosystem in which everybody knows who should be where and what the rules are, all of which is undertaken with the utmost respect (for the most part). To get to the crux of it, this is because the cycling infrastructure in Belgium, and especially the Netherlands, is fit for purpose and accommodated by a cycling culture – a far cry from this country.
But this wasn’t always the case. It might surprise you to learn that in the Netherlands, this infrastructure didn’t come about organically. In Amsterdam, this wasn’t a feature naturally baked into urban planning. Instead, this thing came about through collective action. Back in the 1950s and 60s, as Renate van der Zee investigates in her brilliant Guardian article, cars were becoming more prevalent in Dutch cities to the point that cyclists were on the point of being “expelled”. The growing number of cars resulted in a dramatic increase in the number of traffic casualties – in 1971, “more than 400 children were killed in traffic accidents”. This led to protest groups emerging, most notably “Stop de Kindermoord” (“stop the child murder”). Activists would organise demonstrations, occupying incident blackspots, and their numbers grew rapidly. It got to the stage where the government “proclaimed a series of car-free Sundays: intensely quiet weekend days when children played on deserted motorways and people were suddenly reminded of what life was like before the hegemony of the car.” Whilst there is much more to the story, ultimately, these protests were successful in reconstituting the priorities of urban transport infrastructure across the Netherlands. The safety of cyclists was prioritised by the government and with it came both public health and broader environmental benefits. Today, in Amsterdam, roughly two thirds of daily urban transportation is by bike and there are 22,000 miles of cycle paths across the country!
Drawing this back to York, the situation is quite different. Pitted against the motorists, with no clear separation except a white dotted line at best, cycling is very much a territorial fight. It is a trial by combat in which your opponent has the ability to strike actual blows while you can only shout and gesture. There is a clear imbalance here. Broken bones versus dents and scratches. The whole experience constitutes a sweaty, adrenalin-fuelled rush, a liminal space that, in the right circumstances, is quite fun. In the same way I would imagine, to those who partake in it, bull riding must be quite fun. This might seem delusional, but it is a serious business. I knew of someone who used to carry around a hammer while commuting by bike, radically militant though probably less justifiable in court. This could be a myth. In reality it is a minority of vehicles that come too close (within 1.5 metres according to the highway code) while passing. Most drivers are respectful, as are most cyclists, though some are susceptible to acting recklessly. Granted, they have places to be granted, but a few seem to get possessed by the mere existence of the cyclist, overcome by a desire to dominate. Where does this originate? Is this a British thing? Is it in our nature? Does a positive correlation exist between the value of one’s car and one’s capacity to rage? Who knows? Further research is required.
What I do know is that the existing cycling infrastructure in York, apart from being sparse, is lazy and ill-thought-out. There is no consistency to be found. Comparatively, in Amsterdam, every street will have a layout which is recognisable; the safety of the cyclist is a visible reality which is clearly demarcated. More fundamentally, there is a culture of respect towards cyclists, which doesn’t exist in this country. Unfortunately, to Joe Public, cyclists are either middle-aged men in Lycra with too much disposable income or dangerous ne’er-do-wells bent on anarchy. It is a shame that investment isn’t being driven into cycling which goes anywhere beyond the pablum of a city council “vision”; especially in a city like York, where the raw materials are so rich. Here is something which could offer a silver bullet to a whole list of healthcare and environmental ills. Better infrastructure would encourage people to cycle, which in turn would get more people active, improving public health in the process. I acknowledge that this is too optimistic and egregiously simplistic. Of course, powerful individuals like Wes Streeting want to use Ozempic to solve the NHS crisis, and politics is by nature a short-sighted enterprise, although looking at the picture more holistically, investment in cycling infrastructure would do a whole world of good in the long run.
So, Amsterdam overcame the hegemony of the car through protest. In doing so they have reaped benefits to both public health and the environment. In 2015 the American Journal of Public Health calculated that in the Netherlands “cycling prevents about 6500 deaths each year, and Dutch people have half-a-year-longer life expectancy because of cycling.” Why could this transition not happen in York too? Because in questioning the adequacy of cycling infrastructure, wider societal arrangements are brought into play which are too vast and entrenched to alter. Our addiction to the convenience of fossil fuels coupled with a rampant, unrelenting consumerism is incompatible with a liveable future. Unfortunately, the impetus from the top isn’t there. The Car remains King and will do as long as governments and city councils want it to.