Divide and rule

Urban cycling has become perceived as a politicised act.  That’s not to say that cycling is necessarily radical – indeed, many of the most high-profile supporters of cycling are conservatives (with both big and small ‘c’s).  Only that current debates around cycling are politically contested in a way that, say, doesn’t apply to discussions of the cultures and infrastructures of waste disposal.  One aspect of this debate being somewhat heated is that a narrative has arisen in which cyclists are pitted in opposition to other road users, in an antagonistic struggle. 

In any shared public space, there will be balancing acts to resolve the different needs of the various groups who use the space.  Usually these compromises are absorbed as part of daily life without it even registering that there is a conflict of different interests.  For example, most of us don’t begrudge giving up our seat when a pensioner gets on the bus – it’s just the natural thing to do.  It doesn’t occur to us to decry the war on the buses between pensioners with their special seats, versus the ‘rest of us’.  (Though no doubt George Osborne would find a way of doing so if he thought he could blame them for the recession.)

In debates about road-use, cyclists are usually cast as a group of outsiders, posed antagonistically against the remainder of (presumably ‘normal’) society.  In doing so, cyclists have become subject to the same ‘divide and rule’ tactics that are familiar to so many marginalised groups across society, whereby ‘good’ and ‘bad’ sub-groups are established and played off against each other by those with power.    

Women ("Is she cooking her family's dinner, or is she a slut?");  Muslims ("Are you an extremist, or do you support the government?");  political activists ("People have a right to peaceful protest, but those violent anarchists deserve all the police beatings our taxes can buy"). 

By accepting the legitimacy of these distinctions, we give the green light not only for the supposed 'bad' sub-category to be vilified, but for society as a whole to be manipulated into submission to the powers seeking to divide us in the first place. 

In the blue corner:  cyclists who wear hi-vis apparel and helmets.

In the red corner:  those who ride on the pavement and jump red lights. 

Members of the blue camp are exhorted to shun those in the red, whilst being encouraged view themselves as 'ambassadors', in order to collectively appease some unseen but omniscient arbiter of public decency; an Aztec god of public highways.

The self-policing ‘ambassador’ complex also reflects the double-standards by which marginalised groups are judged.  When one member of a minority group commits a transgression, they are perceived as doing so as part of that group;  are seen as an anonymous member of a collective entity;  a manifestation of a stereotype.  When members of a majority groups transgresses, they are treated as individuals with their own life history and personality, and their belonging to any particular group is rarely mentioned. 

For example, when newspapers report crime stories, they will frequently publish the race of the perpetrator if they are from a minority ethnic background, thereby linking the whole social group with the offence itself.  Conversely if a white person commits a crime, it would never occur to anyone to point out that the offender is white, or connect this to other crimes committed by white people, or ponder how the crime reflects on ‘white culture’ or collectively held ‘white values’. 

Even Anders Brevik’s crimes, which were inextricably linked with his white identity, were never described as ‘white extremism’, ‘European fundamentalism’, ‘Christian terrorism’, or similar.  Instead, the predominantly white British media distanced themselves from him by using terms such as ‘neo-nazi’.    

I was once approaching a set of red traffic lights at a busy junction, when a pedestrian ran out into the road about 5 yards in front of the pedestrian crossing, straight into the path of the cyclist in front of me, who was just pulling up to the lights.  The pedestrian screamed at the cyclist for driving into the crossing;  the cyclist pointed out that the crossing was several yards from where the man was, and that he’d basically just walked out into the road.  The man turned round to glare at each of the cyclists at the lights (there were about 8 of us), and snarled “You’re all just so fucking charming, aren’t you?” before storming off.  I find it difficult to imagine a situation in which 8 car drivers are all abused simply for being in close proximity to a driver who has behaved inconsiderately.

Interestingly, the only time motorists are referred to as a category – as opposed to just being the normal way that people get around – is when motoring lobby groups wail about the ‘war on the motorist’.  This reminds me of amusingly named “men’s rights” groups, which complain about how men are structurally disadvantaged by a cruel matriarchal society. 

Treating cyclists with collective contempt rather than identifying the specific misdemeanours of individuals, and maintaining this power dynamic through a divide-and-rule culture, will only change when cycling is perceived as simply a normal means of getting from A to B, instead of an outsider activity.  In the meantime, cyclists must collectively reject the ‘ambassador’ millstone, or risk perpetuating their own marginalisation.