I should do this with China, Columbia, Norway, Spain… all the countries I’ve worked in of late. But if I do it for Australia, you should able to extrapolate. Let’s start with the bad news—that way we’ll be feeling upbeat at the end.
The bad news is that, short of a zombie apocalypse changing the planet’s demographics in ways we can’t even imagine, your country will never have a 25% bike modal share, or rates above 60% in city centres, as the Netherlands does. Our countries were already quite different (ours having hills) but really parted ways in the wake of the war.
Like a lot of countries in Europe, the Dutch were left broke. So while we were pouring the boom-time surplus into freestanding houses outside of our cities, they were patching holes in city centres.
Suburban development was further resisted in the Netherlands due to their unique shortage of farmland. So where the Sydney region, for example, has housing on land without any rail service (all the land coloured black on the following map)…
…the Amsterdam region only has farms there.
With proportionally fewer car-dependent voters, they would be able to flip the bird to the 1970s oil crisis in ways no other country could, by rolling out laws that recognised cycling.
Bike advocates are aware of the main ones, like strict liability laws to protect vulnerable road users and their famous design manual for bicycle traffic…
…but regulations that recognise cycling are virtually omniscient. Let’s just look at a few. The Dutch building code requires every new dwelling unit be built with a bike storage room, with low ceilings and no windows so they can’t be converted to bedrooms. If an Australian architect proposed that, their developer client would sack them.
Dutch Architects are given standards to follow when they design stairs so that bikes can be pushed up and down them. There is no Australian standard for these, so if architects build them here, they will be sued the moment somebody trips.
A lot of the work that landscape architects and urban designers do is determined by the speeds at which people are moving. According to our regulations here in Australia, nothing moves at bike speed. Shared bike/pedestrian paths in parks and shared spaces like malls are designed for speeds up to 10kph, which is unnaturally slow on a bike. If you ride into a pole placed in the middle of a cycleway it’s your fault for doing 11kph, which is speeding. Then, as though to deliberately conspire against cycling, the next design speed above 10 is one you can’t reach without drugs. Bike paths in the Netherlands are designed for the speed that bikes go, while traffic calmed streets can have traffic calming, in other words items that can be avoided when cars are actually travelling slowly.
Design guidelines for professionals designing for cycling in Australia, are like the guidelines we give to Australian doctors so they can perform euthanasia. They don’t exist.
From a policy perspective, the messages are both clear. We say to doctors they can let their clients kill themselves if they want to, but not to do anything to encourage them or assist. We say to architects, landscape architects and urban designers to let people cycle, if they want to, but again don’t assist. If you do, it’s your funeral, not theirs.
That’s the bad news. Now…
The good news is that rule breaking is sexy. Maybe it isn’t for traffic engineers, but it certainly is for the more artistic professions I’ve been talking about, such as architects, landscape architects and to some extent urban designers. Transgressing a normative principle, or finding a work-around to some law, makes designers famous and their projects iconic. So where in Holland cycling will always be beige, most everywhere else in the world it’s red paint.
Is this ideal? Of course not. Neither does it mean we shouldn’t be working to have rules and laws changed. Nevertheless, it’s the card we’ve been dealt, so let’s look at how we can play it.
The book that broke me into this bicycle urbanism caper took an idea from the field of queer studies, that marginalised groups build a city for themselves in the margins, and showed how that principle applied to the marginalised cycling community as well. If you map that idea onto Sydney, you would say queer folk like us would be in greater abundance in the flat derelict South of the city, than the leafy North Shore with its hills and garages.
One loophole, or circumstance, that I have been exploiting with my design work comes from the realisation that wheelchair access can be tweaked to serve cycling as well. Couple that with everyone’s discontent now with the cost of lifts and lift maintenance, and you can imagine an affordable housing block—in this illustration slapped together with shipping containers—being organised around a spiralling ramp you can ride on, instead of a lift.
That’s a prototype we’re angling to have built in Norway. I was recently in Bogota helping them write a competition brief to design an innovation centre and school along similar lines. In Australia, where cycling is neither wanted or legally sanctioned, you would likely present a building like that as a way to eliminate the lift while complying with universal access demands.
It’s a shame, but work I do in this country almost always has a sneaky component. Above is a shared path beside which my clients, some property developers, are building bike friendly housing that I helped to design. Since the design speed is 10kph, the intersection between these two paths could, or maybe should, be ambiguous, not giving precedence to the main commuting route in the way I’ve suggested. Neither should the design be suggesting that pedestrians use a new, curb-separated path to the side. When you get down to it, you’re finding loopholes to achieve your higher aim.
What is that higher aim? Personally, I don’t think it is to copy the Netherlands. It’s not an ideal cycling nation. It has cities that were organised around horses and boats, because bikes weren’t even invented. My latest book addresses this problem of bike planning not actually having an ideal picture of what it is working toward, maybe as far out as a hundred years. Competitive cities unite populations too big for walking to be of much use. It will get you your milk. It won’t get you to a specialised job or a college. Cars have proven themselves to be useful for connecting people to the country, but not people to people to people in cities. And cities that rely on public transport, need unbearable densities, like Paris or New York, if they are to grow to an economically powerful size without average trip times blowing out to more than an hour. What I argue in Velotopia is that the model that will do even more is one that is adumbrated in Holland, but existent only in a realm of pure reason that, as a society, we have to work to envision. Finding a cure for our cities is like finding a cure for cancer: you don’t expect to just find it out by the side of a River.