I was sad to hear of the death last week of the Dutch road engineer, Hans Monderman. At 62, his demise from cancer was untimely. Even so, there was a certain relief in learning that, if he had to go, he went the way he did, writes Frank McNally
As I mentioned here a few months back, Monderman was a champion of the "naked street" movement - a campaign to get rid of traffic lights, signs, kerbs, amber grids, railings, and all the other props of traditional thinking about urban road safety. He thought these things only made drivers more reckless by diminishing their sense of personal responsibility.
His idea was that, without signs ordering them around, the various road users would have to watch out for each other more, as they now do in many parts of the Netherlands where his philosophy has been implemented. And such was his faith in human nature, Monderman would sometimes demonstrate it by walking backwards across the street.
The potential for him to join the faithful departed while so doing was obvious. Had an errant driver passed at the wrong moment, the result could have done for the "naked street" movement what the death of Jim Fixx did for ex-smokers and running.
But this never happened. Early as it was, the manner of Monderman's demise at least did not undermine his life's work.
The shared-space concept took a while to catch on, even in his home country, because it was so counter-intuitive. It worked, as he argued, by making the streets more dangerous. The necessary "negotiations" between road users would sometimes lead to misunderstandings, he knew. And occasional minor collisions were even to be welcomed - if not by those involved - for reminding everyone how dangerous it was.
But Monderman's ideas about urban design sprang from a period in the 1970s when the Netherlands had suffered a series of road deaths involving children. Given responsibility for one affected village, at a time when budget cuts put traditional "traffic-calming" measures out of reach, he instead took away all the safety-related street furniture. And even he was amazed when, as a result, drivers cut their speeds by an average 40 per cent.
Since that breakthrough, multiple schemes throughout the country have confirmed his instincts. And although there remains the suspicion that what works for the Dutch might not work is less ordered societies, the shared-space concept is now increasingly respectable throughout Europe.
The philosophy is still evolving, admittedly, and there are some sceptics. In a system that depends on road users establishing eye contact, for example, it's not clear where the blind fit in. The growing use of "shared space" schemes in Britain drew criticism recently from the Guide Dogs for the Blind organisation. So not everybody has the same faith in drivers as Monderman did.
The most annoying thing about traffic lights is the way they rule over us, often without any reference to local traffic conditions. They demand unquestioning obedience, regardless of circumstances. Which is why it can be so exhilarating to defy them, now and again.
You know the feeling. It's 4am and you're driving home through deserted streets when a light ahead turns red. You stop automatically. Then you realise there is nobody trying to cross the road, and no traffic coming the other way. So, checking furtively in your rear-view mirror for a patrol car, you over-rule the glaring automaton and drive on.
You've never done that? No, me neither. But I know people who have, and they say it's very empowering.
Anyway, this year marks the 140th anniversary of the world's first traffic light, erected in London. Since then, these structures have multiplied like space invaders, in the process governing more and more corners of the planet. Now, finally, it may be time for earthlings to strike back.
Here in Ireland, until recently, traffic lights were still seen as a measure of progress. A small town knew it had really arrived when the first automatic light was installed to regulate traffic. But I suspect the Zeitgeist is at last turning against these alien structures.
In my own old home town of Carrickmacross, there are now three traffic control devices on Main Street. Two are conventional, fixed-position traffic lights. The third is a man called Martin, who has no lights at all, but who on the other hand - as well as being a garda - has the advantage of mobility.
In addition to patrolling Main Street, as he has done for years, he makes detours to local schools and other traffic flashpoints, and is so popular a fixture in the town as to be almost a tourist attraction. Whenever distinguished visitors call, they always get photographed alongside Martin. Nobody wants to be photographed with the traffic lights.
Soon, I predict, more communities will go back to the future. It will become a measure of progress for a town to get rid of its lights. Then perhaps the stop and yield signs will go too, along with all the other stuff Hans Monderman campaigned against, leaving locals to rely on mere human interaction to regulate behaviour.
It will be a while before the naked street movement rivals the Tidy Towns competition here. But it will happen eventually.
In the meantime, some urban community could achieve lasting fame by being the first place in Ireland to get rid of all its street-signs.