Forty years on, Steinberg knows Groningen is reaping the fruits of their circulation plan’s success. “I’ve been working with other cities, and Groningen is by far one of the most innovative cities, and one open to change.” However, he is quick to remind his other clients that these achievements didn’t happen without difficult decisions and short-term pain. “Now if you come to Groningen, it seems like a bicycle heaven,” he admits. “But if you look at old pictures, it’s really clogged with automobiles. Even if only half of your citizens think banning cars is a good idea, if you’re brave enough to actually do it, or you have the political power to do it, in the long run, it pays off.”
Like the vast majority of Groningen residents, Steinberg doesn’t cycle everywhere for the exercise or for the environment. He rides a bicycle because it’s quick, convenient, and comfortable. But above all, propelling yourself on two wheels comes with immense quality-of-life improvements: “When I lived in Tel Aviv, I was driving everywhere,” he confesses. “In Berlin and Stockholm, I was using the metro all of the time. Once I moved to Groningen, I really became a happier person, because I cycled every day. Groningen was the first place that showed me a city could live on the power of the bicycle. That’s the reason I moved and stayed here.”
A Vision for the Future: Principle and Pragmatism
Speak to anyone who lives in the more densely populated southern areas of the Netherlands, and they are likely to bemoan Groningen’s remoteness from economic centers like Amsterdam and Rotterdam. Two hours by train from Utrecht, the busiest rail hub in the country, Groningen unsurprisingly remains a smaller city despite its recent acclaim as a “bicycle heaven.” But its size is precisely what makes it so special to its residents, who love sharing their secret with visitors from around the world.
This remarkable civic pride is what inspired Steinberg to settle in Groningen after his graduation from the university there, but it is also what has kept its current deputy mayor, Paul de Rook, in the city where he was raised. Elected at the age of 27 in 2014, he is the third-youngest person to hold the position—Van den Berg was just 26—but he brings much of the same altruism and youthful enthusiasm to the post as did his predecessor.
“This is the city where I was born and grew up,” he reflects, “and if you are interested in politics and want to change something in your local surrounding, then getting involved with local politics is the best way to do that, in my opinion.” De Rook, who started his career in politics when he ran for student council in high school, uses that ambition to build on the work of previous councils, and on the success of the Traffic Circulation Plan. He recognizes that the politicians who came before him had a clear vision of what they wanted Groningen to become, and he now works tirelessly with his peers to make decisions that will continue to sustain and improve it.
But while the focus of the Traffic Circulation Plan was to remove car traffic from the city center, De Rook recognizes that behind those initial plans is really an improvement of both public spaces and livability in general. “You can’t make decisions around traffic without having consequences for public space or the livability of the city,” he suggests. “You need to incorporate all the views into the same vision for the city.” For this reason, Groningen’s new vision for the future encompasses a more complete picture of the city, one that combines the values of both principle and pragmatism.
Principle focuses on key factors regarding livability, physical space, and the quality of the environment, and uses a traffic hierarchy to prioritize projects and initiatives. In its simplest form, the traffic hierarchy is: pedestrians over cyclists, cyclists over public transportation, and public transportation over cars. Essentially, the most vulnerable users of the city have priority over the least, and plans are built around ensuring that prioritization.
However, that does not mean building new infrastructure for the sake of it, and this is where pragmatism comes in. “We don’t enforce this order unless it’s necessary, unless there are problems with those fitting together,” De Rook explains. In places where modes move together smoothly and without conflict, there is no need for change, with projects only implemented when civic officials identify a problem.
This approach becomes clear during a bicycle ride throughout Groningen, particularly on the “smart routes” that link the university to the center. Before the creation of fietsstraten, the most practical and direct routes were becoming increasingly crowded with students and staff traveling to and from school each day, and conflict between modes was intensifying along with the crowding. But now, with fietsstraten slowing car traffic and prioritizing bicycles, the whole dynamic of the street has changed. Trips that used to be challenging have become far more pleasant and attractive for those who used to drive their cars but now see the convenience and comfort bicycle travel can offer.
Inevitably, perhaps, a new problem has arisen in the cycling capital of the world. The traffic plan has created such a welcoming city center that its citizens swarm daily to browse the markets and shops, dine in the restaurants, or simply spend time people-watching in Groningen’s two main squares. With most of those people arriving by bicycle, the conflicts with buses—currently the only motorized vehicles still afforded access to the center throughout the day (delivery vans are afforded a small window of entry in the morning hours before shops open for business)—as well as those arriving by foot has become a real concern.
Recognizing that many of the trips through the center are not aimed at stopping, but rather just passing through, De Rook and the council are implementing strategies that, as was done with cars in the seventies, provide alternate routes around the core to forestall conflict. “We see that space is becoming too crowded, and its use too intense, so we need to have more accessible public space,” he points out. By examining the destinations of the bus routes that traveled through the center, they have identified the routes that can be modified to pass around the perimeter to get passengers to work, school, and home without impeding the vibrant core. To consolidate those routes that provide a crucial link for passengers traveling to the city center, they are devising a shorter, east-west connector route, reducing the size and number of buses. As De Rook explains: “The public space is reserved for pedestrians and cyclists.”
With fewer buses getting in the way, the next challenge is the overwhelming number of people on bikes traveling through the city center. Much like they did with the smart routes, the City is providing alternative routes to cycle quickly and easily around the core, thus freeing up valuable space, especially on the weekends. “We thought, ‘How can we create an approach that solves the problem in the most-crowded areas at the busiest times?’” notes De Rook. “The answer is to give them an option to go around the city if they don’t need to go into it.”
For the average North American city striving to increase cycling’s modal share, bicycle congestion seems like the best possible problem to have. But as De Rook notes, while the challenges Groningen faces may be different, and even aspirational for other cities, they are challenges nonetheless. With one and a half bicycles for every Groningen resident, bike parking is a consistent and growing issue. As in other Dutch cities, people park their bikes in every available space, whether a rack exists or not. This is creating row upon row of bikes in front of shops, down alleyways, on sidewalks, and in the squares—and taking space away from people on foot.
With a goal of ensuring that the city center be accessible to everyone, including those with limited mobility and parents with strollers, De Rook and his council know they fall short when it comes to bike parking, and they are working to address it. Partnering with local businesses, they have placed red carpets at the entrance of shops directly adjacent to the street to ensure free access, and restrict where bikes can park. And in order to remove some of those bikes from the sidewalks, they are expanding bike parking away from the busiest areas, as well as working on plans to open a new fietsenstallingen in 2019 to provide space for 1,250 bicycles. This would appe
ar to an outsider to be an acceptable solution, but the demand for bike parking at peak hours (on weekends) is 15,000, so the new garage will be just a drop in the bucket of what’s needed.
Figure 3-3: The number of bikes parked on the streets of Groningen is becoming unsustainable, forcing officials to scramble for solutions. (Credit: Modacity)
De Rook views this as an opportunity to enlist additional partners to help fund further bike-parking projects: “For us, it’s not really acceptable that you have private business opening up in the center, making a lot of money thanks to the bicycle traffic, but then the government has to invest all the money in the infrastructure. So we try to get them to help as well.” He notes that the new Primark store—representing a large and popular chain of department stores—will draw many more people to spend money there, most of whom will come by bike and will need a place to park. Teaming up with local businesses to help fund further infrastructure development is mutually beneficial; the City can provide increased space for everyone to arrive at the center by foot or bicycle, creating an inviting space for spending time and money, which is directly transferred back to the businesses in the form of increased profits.
Despite their challenges around space and congestion, Groningen shows no signs of slowing down or resting on its laurels. De Rook explains that they are continually striving to find new ways to make it easier for people to get around by bicycle via new smart routes, and they are even looking at ways to extend their smart routes outside city limits and encourage residents in those areas to travel into the city by bike.
“The real potential for further improvement is with people from villages around the city and them getting to work by bike as well,” claims De Rook. He explains that with little effort, Groningen can increase their 61 percent modal share for cycling to 67 percent, simply through the student population. What would be more impressive would be to increase the current 12 percent of people traveling by bike from outside the city, and the City of Groningen is working closely with provincial officials to increase that proportion by 2030. Of course, e-bikes will play a crucial role in any such increase by lengthening the average commute distance from eight kilometers to twenty kilometers with very little additional effort from riders.
Reflecting on the success in Groningen since the implementation of the Traffic Circulation Plan in 1972, De Rook acknowledges that the structure of their city has helped them achieve their impressive status, but he insists it’s about much more than that: “You need to provide people with realistic alternatives in order to actually influence their behavior. It’s not just building cycling roads and then expecting that everybody will change their traveling behavior. You have to look at it as a system as a whole.”
He also offers sage advice for politicians in other cities who are wary of backlash and opposition to bicycle infrastructure plans: get the businesses on board. De Rook encourages engagement and collaboration for devising new plans and strategies, pointing out that often entrepreneurs and business associations can offer help and solutions when it comes to addressing concerns around traffic, the availability of public space, and maintaining economic viability. With business having a greater understanding of proposed changes and supporting such plans, you can reduce the potential for backlash and consequently see greater success. It also helps to focus on the positive; as De Rook says, “We make sure to show what everyone will gain with a new approach instead of dwelling on what they will lose.”
Three years into his political career, 30-year-old De Rook is quite pleased with where he’s found himself, and he plans to stick around as long as he can. “If you asked me five years ago, ‘What would your dream job be when you are 60 years old?,’ I would have said deputy mayor in Groningen, and through all sorts of circumstances that happened much sooner, and I think I will stay here as long as they let me.”
Cycling City in a Sea of Green
Three decades after Max van de Berg made the bold move of implementing Groningen’s Traffic Circulation Plan, and nearly 8,000 kilometers away, another young politician—also early in his career—pushed his hometown along a similarly positive, albeit challenging, path forward. Situated at the southwestern-most point of Canada, Vancouver is similar in size and population to Amsterdam or Rotterdam, with a reputation as haven for people living active lifestyles.
Referred to as a “City in a Sea of Green” in one of its mid-century planning documents, Vancouver, the principal city of the province of British Columbia, sits nestled between the Pacific Ocean and the North Shore Mountains of the coastal range, with access to hiking, paddling, skiing, snowboarding, mountain biking, and any number of other outdoor activities, enjoyed yearround thanks to a temperate rainforest climate. To visitors and residents alike, it is a highly attractive urban playground, which helps to account for its steady population growth as it draws new residents from across Canada and around the world.
But despite Vancouver’s reputation for active living, that growth—paired with ever-increasing housing costs—has resulted in an expansion in surrounding suburbs for those in search of more affordable living, and with that an increase in the number of cars entering the city. While Vancouver’s traffic woes do not come close to those experienced in other West Coast cities like Seattle, San Francisco, and Los Angeles, residents nonetheless were growing more frustrated with the conditions of their streets and the stress of getting around town.
Enter Gregor Robertson, a local entrepreneur with a genuine desire to improve the quality of life in Vancouver. In 2008, at the age of 44, he successfully won his bid for mayor on the platform of making Vancouver the “World’s Greenest City” by 2020—a lofty goal that included drastically increasing the cycling modal share, which at the time sat at a paltry 3.7 percent. To achieve this, Robertson would embark on a path filled with ample conflict and plenty of “bikelash,” all in the name of progress.
“Given our compact core city, which more closely resembles European cities than most other North American cities, that combination is an ideal place to take cycling to the next level,” Robertson explains, referencing Vancouver’s absence of urban freeways, a tighter street grid, mixed-use zoning, and geographic boundaries that limit horizontal growth in every direction. “We wanted to enable many more people to get out of their cars and get active, reducing traffic congestion, and the missing ingredient was the infrastructure to ensure that they felt safe,” he explains. Almost from day one, Robertson and his council began work on the first of many new street improvements—physically separated bike lanes on the six-lane Burrard Street Bridge.
A critical link between the city’s west side neighborhoods and the downtown peninsula, this bridge had been the site of many tragic collisions between cars and vulnerable road users, and was the focus of countless “Critical Mass” protest bike rides demanding safer streets. “I think people forget now, but there were thousands of people protesting the lack of bike infrastructure prior to 2008,” Robertson recalls. “Our first job was to make sure we were addressing those big safety concerns.”
But if reallocating one travel lane from cars to bikes to address clear safety concerns seemed like an uncontroversial move, Robertson quickly learned otherwise. From the moment the plan was announced, the blowback began. Media outlets published scathing editorials about how “Mayor Moonbeam” was making it impossible to get anywhere in the city by car, and residents would turn up at council meetings to voice their vehement opposition to the proposed change. Robertson and his council forged ahead, though, opening the unidirectional bike lanes in August of 2009. “A few loud critics can make anything look controversial,” he points out. “I recall all the media outlets doing full coverage of the Burrard Bridge opening, big choppers overhead, filming the impending chaos—and it was much ado about nothing. It had zero impact on traffic from day one.”
Since then, the bridge has become one of the city’s most heavily traveled bike routes, and in the summer of 2017—eight years after the redesign debuted—bicycle traffic
hit a total of 9 million unique trips, a fact that has justified further reallocation of space, with a second lane of car traffic removed to create more space for people on foot and bike on either side of the bridge deck. Not bad for a project that many local pundits predicted would mark not just the beginning but also the end of Robertson’s political career.
Acknowledging that a single bike route wouldn’t solve the city’s transportation problems, Robertson spent the next nine years—and two successful re-election campaigns—building a “AAA” (“All Ages and Abilities”) network of bike infrastructure across the city, with a heavy focus on physical separation, especially in the downtown peninsula. As Robertson explains, the City of Vancouver’s “Transportation 2040” plan is focused on reducing the number of cars on its streets: “We simply can’t add more cars into Vancouver, particularly downtown.” By building safe, separated bicycle infrastructure on some of their busiest streets, Robertson hopes to entice people out of their cars and onto bikes. The first two major downtown projects—the Dunsmuir and Hornby Streets protected bike lanes—would prove to be a turning point in the discussions about cycling in Vancouver, but not without their own flashpoints.
Figure 3-4: Prior to 2010, Vancouver’s Dunsmuir Viaduct was a three-lane traffic sewer. Handing one lane over to bikes has induced a total of 3.7 million unique trips. (Credit: Modacity)
In hindsight, it’s clear that Robertson would have benefited from De Rook’s advice regarding his approach to the business community, especially during the construction along Hornby and Dunsmuir Streets. The Downtown Vancouver Business Improvement Association (DVBIA), headed by its president and CEO, Charles Gauthier, came out in full force against the improvements, feeling the City was moving too quickly and without sufficient consultation with their members. Instead, the City opted to forge ahead, and the DVBIA took offence. “There’s a fine balance,” Robertson admits, “between taking action to keep people safe on the streets and ensuring there’s appropriate consultation.” Still, he doesn’t regret the decision. “For me, I’d rather err on the side of saving lives than taking extra months to talk about it.”
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