After years of falls, road deaths are rising. In fact, they’re rising fast enough for the Department for Transport to pre-releasing figures and ministers to start getting their defence in early.
UK transport minister Robert Goodwill warned a parliamentary road safety conference last week to prepare for “bad news” ahead of Thursday’s announcement, telling attendees to expect a “rise” in road fatalities.
H.L. Mencken said: “For every complex problem, there is a solution that is simple, neat, and wrong.” He could have been describing the UK’s road safety policy. This isn’t about a fall in the numbers of traffic police, this is about a road safety policy that has focused on what’s measurable rather than what’s important. And, worse, it has simplified the complexity of safe driving to priggish, dimity little slogans like ‘twenty’s plenty’ and ‘speed kills so kills your speed’.
What’s happened? We have cars and motorcycles with the most advanced passive safety ever. We’ve seen those passive safety features, like ABS and traction control, give us safer and safer roads. When drivers do get it wrong, we’ve got active safety that deploys airbags, pre-tensions seatbelts and stops cars being death traps.
Yet now we’re seeing fatalities and serious injuries rising.
The honest truth is that no-one really knows. And that’s because road safety has become a single issue game and the politicians and road safety groups are sat around with their fingers in their ears singing “la la la can’t hear you”.
Driving a car or riding a motorcycle is the most complex thing you’ll do today. Your level of observation, anticipation, evaluation of environmental and vehicle feedback and psychomotor skills would blindside any computer yet built. And that’s before you factor in your constant interactions with other drivers, evaluating their actions and planning for what they’ll do next.
Get on a motorcycle and it gets even more complex. Keep a machine upright through corners when it’s naturally unstable, plus all the other stuff.
Yet, according to current road safety policy, all we have to do to be safe is match a number on a dial to a number on a stick. And if we don’t, there are cameras of many different varieties to make sure we get slapped and our liberty curtailed. We’ve delegated the complexity of solving the road safety problem to a combination of yellow boxes on poles enforcing frequently changing, arbitrary speed limits on sticks.
It’s drive-by-numbers. And, like paint by numbers, it’s a dreadful, lumpy facsimile of the real thing.
Given the importance of speed limits, you would think, wouldn’t you, that the numbers on those sticks would be scientifically robust, backed up by hard evidence and – ideally – as close to physical absolutes as possible. It would be tragic to think that they’re simply set by your local councillor, terrified of losing votes, against the advice of the local police force.
But that’s what’s happening.
Why, despite millions spent on lower limits, cameras, bumps, humps and hardline speed-enforcement, are deaths not falling? Because we’ve decided that the complexity of real road safety is politically unacceptable. And we’ve replaced it with a sort of no-carrot-and-lots-of-stick donkey policy. Speed cameras are binary. You’re either legal or not. Safety doesn’t come into it. And if you’re illegal, you get a slap. We’ve traded safety for compliance.
Binary solutions don’t – and can’t – work with complex problems. And you can’t get the sort of behaviour we need from drivers if they’re constantly expecting a slap.
Speed is certainly a simple enough issue to address superficially. Put up cameras, paint them whatever colour you like, raise fines, put in new, ultra-low blanket speed limits, change them every half mile and propose stiff new penalties for exceeding them, then watch the accident figures tumble. Sadly, as we have seen today, they are not tumbling.
Speed cameras, traffic calming and lowered speed limits encourage the majority of drivers to think that it’s easy – by sticking to a limit they are safe – when nothing could be further from the truth. Poor drivers driving slowly crash at lower speeds – but they still crash and they still kill people. Do we believe this is acceptable?
We need to refocus the road safety debate away from speed limits and on to the much more complex and politically unpalatable subject of driver standards, education and training. It’s only when we recognise how complex the driving process is and educate all road users accordingly that we’ll stop killing people.
Diplomacy. The art of telling someone to go to hell in such a way that they look forward to the trip.
I thought of this when an email from Waitrose arrived today. I am no great advocate of being rude to customers. Neither am I fan of sugar-coating the truth. Customers aren’t as daft as businesses believe.
Which is fortunate, as Waitrose must think its customers are a bit slow on the uptake. They’ve just sent an email to Waitrose loyalty card holders that seems to reveal a little corporate unease about the free tea and coffee they currently enjoy.
This email, headed ‘Enjoying your free tea or coffee’, should carry one of those little red government-sponsored tags that warn about too much sugar in things. It’s so sugar-coated and faux-sweet that hysterically-laughing dentists are jamming the switchboards of every Porsche dealership in the country.
“As you may know, offering a complimentary tea or coffee while you are shopping with us is one of the ways we like to say thank you for your custom.”
OK, a little over-sweet perhaps, but my fillings only hurt a little bit. And that’s just from the “…like to say thank you…” line. I’d not noticed any other ways you like to say ‘thank you’, Mr Lewis. But we’ll let that pass. There is better to come.
Get a bucket handy before you read the next line. Seriously.
“Just in the same way as a friend might offer a hot drink when you visit their home, we think it’s what a caring business should do when a loyal customer shops with us.”
Told you. I’ll wait while you recover.
The case for the prosecution cites adjective overload, the inappropriateness of a domestic analogy to a national retailer and the sheer yuk of ‘loyal’. But this is not the poor whipped Waitrose writer’s fault, I suspect. A paragraph like this is so internally-focused it can only have been written by someone whose seniority outweighed their writing ability by a serious factor. It must have been someone on the board.
“That’s why we’ve come up with this short guide to help all our myWaitrose customers make the most of the scheme and to remind you about scanning your myWaitrose card. We hope that through observing this free tea and coffee etiquette, we can continue to offer a complimentary hot drink each time you shop with us.”
I’ll hold off contacting Amnesty about the blatant torture of grammar, but “observing this free tea and coffee etiquette”? Really? I’m calling you on this one, Mr Lewis. I know a threat with menaces when I see one. I either give you my customer data or you deny me my free coffee? Right? And you thought that the old ‘hot coffee’ close would keep people in the shop for longer. Fair enough.
And Mr Lewis is clearly serious. He makes that clear in the next paragraph:
“…we will be asking myWaitrose members who wish to enjoy their free tea or coffee in one of our Cafés to also purchase a treat – such as a sandwich, cake, biscuit or piece of fruit. This change will enable us to continue to offer our customers the enjoyable service they expect.”
So no more nipping into the cafe, helping yourself to a Daily Fail and a freebie coffee and taking space that could be used by a proper, paying customer. And since when was ‘a piece of fruit’ a treat, Mr Lewis? Or a sandwich? Come off it, old chap.
Once you’ve weeded out the weasel words, taken a geological hammer to the sugar coating and got to the real message, it looks like this:
We’re sorry. It was all a terrible mistake. We didn’t realise that offering freebie tea and coffee would see us haemorrhaging profits like the French aristocracy in 1789. The car parks are cluttered up with trashy old ’62 plate Evoques. There are people in training shoes and tracksuit bottoms calling the Partners “mate”.
It can’t go on.
For pity’s sake, we’re even giving away bean-to-cup to people who can’t pronounce ‘quinoa’ properly. We’ve had to have our Financial Director resuscitated several times this week – and it’s only Wednesday.
This has to stop before we sink under a tsunami of free Columbian.
It’s simple. Swipe your sodding Waitrose card – or get the butler to do it – before you help yourself to your free cuppa. Or we’ll set the bloody dogs on you. OK?
Yours, desperate for a way out of a very, VERY expensive customer perk but hoping no-one notices if we do it bit by bit,
Mr John Lewis”
Sixty four years ago today, George Orwell died from tuberculosis in a London hospital. Not only was he – in my opinion – the finest writer in English, in Politics and the English Language he left scribblers some of the finest advice.
Here it is…
“A scrupulous writer, in every sentence that he writes, will ask himself at least four questions, thus:
– What am I trying to say?
– What words will express it?
– What image or idiom will make it clearer?
– Is this image fresh enough to have an effect?
And he will probably ask himself two more:
– Could I put it more shortly?
– Have I said anything that is avoidably ugly?
One can often be in doubt about the effect of a word or a phrase, and one needs rules that one can rely on when instinct fails. I think the following rules will cover most cases:
– Never use a metaphor, simile, or other figure of speech which you are used to seeing in print.
– Never use a long word where a short one will do.
– If it is possible to cut a word out, always cut it out.
– Never use the passive where you can use the active.
– Never use a foreign phrase, a scientific word, or a jargon word if you can think of an everyday English equivalent.
– Break any of these rules sooner than say anything outright barbarous.”
I shall be waiting at the bar in the Moon Under Water this evening with two pints poured ready.
A while ago, I was amazed to get a letter from my bank telling me I was in credit on my credit card. I came across it in an old file today – and it’s just as I remembered.
It was from a real person – Paula Stevens from Card Operations. But it didn’t really sound like she’d written it. Instead, it had that slightly remote, finger-wagging, milk-monitorish tone that banks sometimes unintentionally adopt.
It was also a bit convoluted:
“You may be unaware the bank requests you do not place your account into credit; this is stated in our Terms.”
I particularly liked the capitalisation of “Terms” – they must be ever so important if they need a capital letter. I also liked the implication of “You may be unaware…” – it’s always good to call your customers ‘unaware'; goes down well.
Instead, how about something like this:
“We’ve noticed you’ve overpaid your credit card account. Please call us and we’ll transfer your money to your bank account – or you could use it to start a cash or equity ISA with us…”
Simple. Easy. Understandable. And even an attempt to sell the customer something. Hell, why not?
But it got better…
“Therefore would you please contact us, supplying a UK sterling bank code and account number, so we may return these funds to you.”
I’m sure that Paula Stevens from Card Operations doesn’t speak like this. I’ll bet she’s good fun, enjoys a laugh, uses the word “money” more often than “funds” and would never call a customer “unaware” (although I’ll bet she thinks a lot of us are utter morons – and fair game, we probably are).
Why sounding ‘professional’ is a disaster
It’s not Paula’s fault. Somewhere along the line, someone’s told her she needs to sound ‘professional’. In most businesses, that means sounding a bit like a cross between a robot and a traffic policeman. Replacing short, everyday words with long ones. Using too many of them. Nailing them together in sentences that stretch off into the distance with more clauses than Santa’s family.
It’s the difference between being literate and actually communicating. The whole ‘sounding professional’ thing is getting in the way of being understood. It’s no good being literate but ending up with stuff that communicates about as well as a page of Linear B.
The corporate process doesn’t help either. Paula drafts a letter and it all makes sense. It goes to her manager, who changes a few things, rewrites a paragraph and sends it on to her manager in turn. She does the same thing. Then the letter goes to the Compliance and Risk department. They add in the various bits of required FCA wording – word for word – and change a few more things.
How professional is it when the poor old customer has a gnat’s chance of understanding the end result?
I know enough customer services teams to know that they’re not like this. They give a big fat damn about their customers and doing right by them. The customer service advisors who’ve come in on Christmas Day – off shift – to fix problems. The ones who’ve got into their own cars after work, driven forms to customers’ houses and helped them complete them – on their own time. Most people go into customer services because they’re interested in helping customers.
So – here’s a challenge… There are so many brilliant customer services people behind the bars of that opaque, jargon-ridden, convolutedly structured, difficult language. It’s time they escaped. I’ve started the first tunnel – who’s with me?
Bikes have been part of my life since I first tried a friend’s 50cc Monkeybike at the age of 11. I couldn’t wait to get a licence. In Frome, there was an independent BMW dealer, Difazio’s. I’d walk the 3 miles from home to stand and gawp at the unfeasibly swoopy-faired R100RSes, RTs and – finally, macho GSes in the window, vowing I’d have one one day.
Growing up in Somerset with a bike was joy. Perfect roads, no traffic, plenty of country pubs.
As soon as I was 17, I bought my first – a metallic red Suzuki A100. Lying flat across the tank, feet on the passenger footpegs, it would just about top 60mph on the Maiden Bradley straight. For £80 I’d bought my freedom and my first fix. That bike took me everywhere, L-plates fluttering.
Thanks to the kindness of Cyril Fuller who managed to teach me to ride without killing myself, I passed my test. It wasn’t much of a test then. A ride around a windswept, February housing estate with the examiner watching from the pavement, finally stepping out with his clipboard to check my emergency stop.
The A100 gave way to a white X7 Suzuki 250. The press had acclaimed it as “the first ton-up 250″. It was true – at least, the speedo said it was. It was also the bike that taught me how to take engines apart and, occasionally, get most of the bits back together again.
Then, a mate clearing his garage presented me with a stack of oily boxes and two instantly recognisable pieces of white, swoopy fibreglass. An R100RS.
OK, it was in Trex White, but it was my dream bike. All I had to do was build it. For the next month, I lived solely on mugs of tea as I bolted and unbolted and fettled and begged bits from anyone who’d listen. I was at least twenty years too young for one, but that was my first BMW.
Twenty five years later, I’m still riding. Now, an R1100GS that’s heading for 60k on the clock – and a Ural outfit. The outfit – a bike with a sidecar – is splendid for me. I have all the ability on a two-wheeler of a frozen chicken. The Ural’s sidecar not only carries a huge amount of stuff, it’s like having stabilisers.
It’s an addiction, a refuge and an endless joy.
In early August 2011, the UK’s citizens got involved in politics in a very practical way. They looted, burned and rioted their way across London, Salford, Manchester and Birmingham. Commentators will debate the reasons – and the ethics – for years to come, but its clear that these were people who are not usually politically active. We need to understand why and, at the same time, find ways to encourage them to be. Without it, that August will not stand alone.
For Aristotle, being a Citizen is all about involvement. Involvement in government, in decision-making, in the State. Without active involvement in the decisions of the State, one was not a Citizen.
Modern thinkers, like Prof. Bruno S. Frey of the University of Zurich Department of Economics, agree. Writing in Demokratische Wirtschaftspolitik, he says “We find that direct democracy is not only more efficient but it also makes people happier than in other countries.” At the core of direct democracy is the concept of involvement.
Most of us cannot be involved, as Aristotle advocated, full-time in the State, so we have delegated much of its running to civil servants and politicians. But, as the decisions made at national and even local level become increasingly remote from us, we need to become involved again. To take back the mantle of Citizenship.
We may believe we have chosen to delegate our Citizen roles, but in reality, many of us have simply abdicated them. This leaves us disempowered, dispossessed and dissociated on the sidelines. Once we’ve become sufficiently remote from any idea of civic life and Citizenship, what have we to lose by smashing a few windows, stealing a few TVs?
We now have the chance to get those roles back. We need to, too. Because it’s only when we’re involved in the complexity of civic decision making that we understand it. We MUST become practically engaged in the decisions of Government again.We are better educated, more literate, more enabled through the internet than ever before. So we have huge potential to be involved practically as Citizens. Not through the binary, single issue protest of e-petitions and polls but with access to information and decision-making itself.
At the same time, rather than keeping us out, or fending us off, the State needs to use the internet to find new ways to let us in. Practical, local, electronic democracy.
Imagine the power of the thought, initiative and ideas of 36 million citizens. Imagine the innovations that are waiting to be unleashed at local level to resolve problems and remove controls. All it takes is for the State to throw the switch from “broadcast” to “receive”.Through the internet we don’t just have access to information and a voice, we have the facility to once more become Citizens. It will take a brave government – and a patient one – to harness that facility. But the benefits for the party that chooses to change the way we are governed in this way are untold.