A dangerous crossing

Some years ago I set out to cross a busy street in Spain on a marked zebra
crossing; that is, a crossing with a series of white stripes marked on the road like
the stripes of a zebra. The crossing was also controlled by lights and the light was
red, indicating that I should not cross. However, I was keen to get to a chemist on
the other side of the road. Ignoring the light, I set off and was halfway across
when for some reason I hesitated. I know now that Heather was screaming at me,
but I didn’t hear her, at least not consciously. At that moment a bus hurtled past,
missing me by a couple of centimetres. Without that hesitation in my step, I would
have been killed instantly.

Coming to terms with this after the event, I felt that somehow, I had been given a
second life. Henceforth, my life would be divided in two: my first life, before the
bus incident, and my second, after it. What I couldn’t fathom was how these two
were connected. Was I the same person? Was my second life a dream perhaps? It
was months before this disjunction between my two lives receded into the
background.

So how was this incident to be explained? A moment of impetuousness? A
thoughtless and careless impulse? That is how these things are so often viewed.
But as a social scientist, I know better. Human error is not an explanation; it is
something that itself requires explanation. How was I to understand my
behaviour?

Consider, first, the phenomenon of a zebra crossing controlled by lights. Such a
thing does not exist in Australia. In Australia, the UK, and some other countries,
zebra crossings give priority to pedestrians at all times. If a pedestrian crossing is
controlled by lights, such that pedestrians only have priority when the light is
green, then the crossing is not marked with zebra stripes, but simply with lines
across the road, between which pedestrians should walk when the light is green. I
was therefore confronted with contradictory cues — a zebra crossing, indicating I
had a right to cross, and a red light indicating that I didn’t. I can’t be sure to what
extent this contributed to my behaviour, but I imagine it played a part.

A second factor was the direction of traffic in Europe, which is opposite to that in
Australia. In Europe, before stepping off the kerb one looks left; in Australia one
looks right. I was consciously aware of this and looked left before stepping off the
kerb. Arriving at the middle of the road, I should have begun paying more
attention to the right. But I continued to look left, perhaps because I was no longer
using my conscious mind at this point. So it was that I didn’t see the bus till it
sped past in front of my face.

All this is speculation because my behaviour was largely a result of subconscious
decision-making. But it is useful speculation since it provides plausible insights
from which to draw lessons. I am now more careful when crossing roads in
foreign countries but more to the point I know, or at least have theories about,
what I need to attend to more carefully. Of course proposing that potential
accident victims be more careful is the least effective means of accident
prevention. There are always other more effective design options open to the
powers that be. But this is the only risk control option open to me, and I have
since implemented it diligently.

There is one final aspect of the bus episode worth mentioning. The bus driver was
apparently sounding his horn before he reached the crossing, but I failed to hear it,
just as I had failed to hear Heather’s screams. It must have been clear to him that I
had not seen his bus, yet he did not slow down. He had a green light and he was
entitled to proceed at normal speed. I can only presume that in his mind, it would
have been my fault not his, had he hit me. I was the one in the wrong, the outlaw,
and as such I deserved whatever might happen to me. That is what it meant to be
an outlaw centuries ago and there is still something of that thinking in our
makeup. Perhaps this is too harsh a judgement, but how else is his failure to
exercise more caution to be explained? After all the other emotions I had gone
through, the most enduring has been anger at the behaviour of the bus driver. That
anger is no doubt a self-protective mechanism; one which helped me get on with
my life. If I am to draw a more dispassionate conclusion about the behaviour of
the bus driver, it is the need for professional drivers, at least, to be given training
in defensive driving: the essence of which, ‘‘driving to save lives, time, and
money, in spite of the conditions around you and the actions of others’’.

Andrew Hopkins
Emeritus Professor of Sociology
Australian National University