How neighborhood land use and equity define #StayHome

A chalkboard sign in an Arlington, VA front yard urges people to stay home. (Photo by me) 

Stay-at-home orders are the mobility misnomer of our day.

Just as rush-hour-only “commuter” transit lines frame inequitable service as acceptable and calling someone a “jaywalker” blames people for unsafe pedestrian environments, #StayHome is a perfect on-paper solution to coronavirus.

But a true stay-at-home order – i.e. literally no one can leave their homes – severs people from their life needs, and around the world chaos have resulted when something even closely resembling one has been announced. For example, Turks dangerously crowded into stores moments after the country curfewed 31 cities this past weekend; Donald Trump’s abrupt cessation of Europe-U.S. travel last month led to comparably unsafe and unsanitary conditions at airports. And mass flight from Wuhan preceding that city’s lockdown helped make the then-regional coronavirus outbreak into a global one.

To avoid these types of problems, U.S. states and cities’ mobility restrictions, though often worded as “stay-at-home” orders, have plentiful exemptions that make them something more along the lines of “stay local, act reasonably, and socially distance” directives.

Constructs such as built environment, wealth, and occupation then influence how the directives play out, shaping how people move and interact.

Accordingly, though COVID-19 doesn’t consciously adhere to zoning codes or telework policies, such societal constructs affect how the virus spreads and who it hits hardest. Though the mechanisms may vary by a given place’s combination of land use and density, the end results we’ve seen tend to be similar and tragic: the essential, but overlooked people society most depends on are ravaged by not just the disease itself, but also the unemployment, hunger, and other devastating consequences it’s brought us.

But is there a built environment that can stave off coronavirus’s health and economic impacts, protecting people from illness, keeping communities logistically and economically functional, and sustaining quality of life? Or is telling everyone to stay home, knowing that’s not actually feasible, really the best we can do? In pondering what might constitute the right mix of separation and connectivity during this time, I’ve found that my own neighborhood just might offer some answers.

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Social mixing is a way of life in high-intensity, vertical cities. This mixing facilitates collaboration that powers our global economy and allows for a fun, fast-paced lifestyle, but it also renders people in dense places particularly vulnerable to coronavirus exposure.

Strong, proactive leadership can control COVID-19 in these places, as seen in cities such as Seoul, Hong Kong, and Singapore that have sustained relative normalcy in the face of the crisis. But the experiences of Wuhan, Madrid, and New York show how explosively the situation can escalate in a dense environment should the aggressive measures needed to suppress an outbreak be absent or belated.

Dense places allow people to live near their life needs, but if too many people are outside at once fulfilling those needs case numbers may rise uncontrolled. This conundrum shaped New York Governor Andrew Cuomo’s recent statements about overcrowding of outdoor spaces, in which he incorrectly but perhaps instinctively referred to the crowding as “density.” Viral spread amidst such crowding tears these places apart by attacking the people who shape their character and connectedness, like the 50 New York MTA workers COVID-19 has taken from us.   

Conversely, fear of such overcrowding and out-of-control spread might pressure everyone who can do so to stay inside, even if stay-local orders deem things like outdoor exercise and fresh-air-getting essential activities. For example, on a recent socially-distanced bike ride through Arlington, VA, I observed a desolate Rosslyn-Ballston corridor – one of the densest parts of the U.S.’s national capital region, an emerging coronavirus hotspot. Closed businesses like Clarendon’s delicious Heritage Brewpub and Roastery symbolized the crisis’s toll on the transit-oriented corridor’s economy and well-being.   

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At first glance, it might seem that people who live in low-intensity, horizontal suburbs and exurbs – where much of life happens in spacious homes and yards – can maintain relatively normal routines at minimal risk of contracting or spreading the virus. They can go out on walks with their families and pets, for example, with little reason to be concerned about accidentally stepping within six feet of someone else.

It’s easy for residents of these places to feel self-sufficient and protected in their homes, whether or not they’re told to stay local. Accordingly, it’s also easy for these people to assume that everyone else “shouldn’t be on buses, they should be at home,” as the city manager of Montebello, CA, a Los Angeles suburb, stated when that municipality shut down its transit network as a COVID-19 control measure. 

   

But the single-use zoning underlying those life-defining homes and yards makes hub-and-spoke mobility and supply networks essential to these places’ viability even during normal times. Thus, people working on the front lines can’t just stay at home if these neighborhoods are to persevere, but instead must toil in close proximity at the distant big-box stores and distribution centers that such neighborhoods depend on. If COVID-19 is introduced to such hubs, these essential workers are the first in harm’s way.

Evidence indicates that though the coronavirus may take longer to reach low-density places, it’s just as lethal once there, supporting the possibility of such hub-and-spoke behavior. Northern Italy’s ravaged towns demonstrate the most extreme potential consequences of this, while tragic flare-ups in places like Palm Beach County, FL show that U.S. suburbia is not immune to this danger.  

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If too many people go out during the COVID-19 pandemic, the consequences are obvious. But the cost of too many people staying in is also unacceptably high, and vulnerable populations bear the brunt of it.

This begs the question: is there a neighborhood-level combination of space, density, and land use that could equitably protect everyone from the virus until a vaccine is created? A combination that would help us avoid mass unemployment and stir-craziness while minimizing the risk of coronavirus exposure for essential workers and teleworkers alike?

In theory, such a medium-density, mixed-use neighborhood requires enough people and businesses to support a locally powered economy that takes care of life needs, but also enough space to ensure the customers and workers who power those businesses can do so safely:

• The presence of multiple small grocery stores, markets, and pharmacies keeps individual establishments from becoming overcrowded, protecting the health of and reducing strain on employees while providing residents diverse options. When possible, these stores utilize locally sourced, polycentric supply chains to keep their shelves full, minimizing the need for large-scale distribution hubs that could foster outbreak hotspots.
• People have space to go outside their residences and fulfill needs like groceries, exercise, or travel to essential jobs. This space ensures people on foot don’t have to interact too closely with each other or with automobile drivers.
• While most residents don’t have to leave the neighborhood for their own day-to-day needs, essential, sustainable public transit ensures people who need to get in or out, such as health and service industry workers, can do so safely and efficiently.

My DC neighborhood of Cleveland Park has some of these characteristics, but the community’s conversation surrounding density and growth – long ongoing, but certain to be changed by COVID-19 – demonstrates just how precarious a balance we must navigate to keep people and businesses healthy.

Even before the pandemic, the neighborhood’s businesses were in a fight to keep their doors open. Plenty of residents see influxes of mixed-use density, like that the proposed Macklin project will provide, as a way to expand businesses’ customer base while also giving local consumers more options. But others feel the community must become a regional hub, drawing patrons from other places largely by preserving and expanding car storage, to get an economic jolt.

The need to adhere to stay-local orders boosts the case for density that can make neighborhoods like Cleveland Park economically and logistically self-sufficient, as well as for space-creating conversion of currently car-obligated public spaces into bikeways or pedestrian plazas.

But the multi-unit complexes needed to provide that density may result in unnerving social mixing, and accordingly pushback that could fuel arguments for sprawling, auto-oriented land use contrary to the goals described above.

Now that we’re more attuned to the threat novel viruses pose, new complexes could be designed with features such as in-unit laundry and open, inviting stairs that minimize unnecessary mixing, helping alleviate anti-density concerns. These features, however, not only aren’t always feasible, but could significantly affect neighborhood affordability and accessibility.

Once the long-term outlook for this pandemic becomes clearer, it will be easier to envision how COVID-19 and the mobility limitations it’s necessitated will affect the built environment, space, and connectivity of our neighborhoods. But though the discussion is just beginning, finding the right balance could save lives, jobs, and our sanity.    

The antidote to COVID-19 and #StayHome: ruthless efficiency

Silver Spring's Denizens Brewing, on its last day open before COVID-19 forced it to suspend in-taproom service. (Photo by me)

Our inefficient, spin-filled society gave coronavirus the upper hand on us.

Overcoming this setback will require a thoughtful, but ruthless efficiency. This efficiency will not solve the world’s problems. But it will flatten the curve and get our lives back on track.

But before I get into that, the fun part: spinning the virus into an argument for sustainable mobility and urbanism.

Coronavirus isn't the only disease that can jump from animals to humans. Sprawl-induced habitat destruction will cause more such diseases to mutate and spread interpersonally. (Photo by me)

To start with, the health consequences of car driving cause and exacerbate the underlying health conditions that make COVID-19 more lethal. Studies have found that coronavirus mortality rates are higher in places with more polluted air, a finding linked to both the well-known health effects of the pollution and the possibility that particulate matter may bolster the virus’s ability to spread. And traffic violence drains healthcare resources needed to treat COVID patients, especially now that pandemic-emptied roads are encouraging drivers to speed.

Those, however, are the least scary stories to tell.

There’s solid evidence that auto-dependent sprawl infringing on natural habitats will allow more novel animal diseases like COVID-19 to mutate and gain the ability to spread from person to person. For example, though a recent rumor to this effect was false, imagine if something like the deer mouse hantavirus that infected 10 people at Yosemite National Park in 2012 – which takes up to 6 weeks to incubate and kills 36 percent of its human hosts, making the coronavirus look like a second-division bug – really could, with no warning, jump between people. As if there weren’t already enough reason for people in my home state of California to fear the wildland-urban interface, with the wildfire threat it poses.

Furthermore, as permafrost melts due to climate change, get ready for all kinds of viruses and bacteria to emerge from the ice and encounter the path to non-immune humans that they’ve awaited for ages. For example, a 2016 anthrax outbreak in Siberia stemming from a formerly permafrost-encased reindeer corpse killed a 12-year-old boy and hospitalized 70 other people, while melting of Neanderthal remains could give ancient pandemics that ravaged our proto-human relatives a chance to defend their title against us homo sapiens.

    

So shouldn’t we just do away with automobiles – the biggest contributor to the biggest source of U.S. greenhouse gases: transportation emissions – and build walkways, bikeways, busways, subways, and high-speed railways to everywhere, all funded to operate at frequent headways, while we still can?

In the early days of COVID-19, one vision of the post-pandemic future was on display. (Photo by me) 

There’s a big problem, however: just as I can publish the above position with the click of a button, auto and oil interests can spin the virus into a case against urbanism.

For example, the National Review recently published a piece claiming that COVID-19 is reminding us how terrible cities are, singling out transit systems and transit-oriented development specifically as pandemic catalysts. The article goes on to list terrorist attacks and chaotic hurricane evacuations as other problems that auto-dependency, suburban office parks, and single-family zoning are apparently the solution for.  

Shredding the National Review’s article to bits would be simple and satisfying. I wrote previously about how auto-dependency makes natural disasters and the evacuations preceding them more deadly, for example, and could list the many mass shootings that – if not perpetrated while driving – have taken place at suburban schools, workplaces, and big-box stores.

But would this really get us anywhere? I’m not going to change their view, and they’re not going to change mine. I can convince myself that they’re formulaic naysayers while I’m speaking for the experience-based greater good, but in the end, the subpar policy responsible for our mutual dissatisfaction won’t change.

An empty Cleveland Park Metro station in DC, on one of the last days before the station closed as part of WMATA's COVID-19 management. None of Seoul's subway stations have closed during the pandemic. (Photo by me) 

This never-ending cycle of negativity constitutes oppressive inefficiency. It was similar inefficiency – from authoritarian China and theocratic Iran to socialist Europe and the capitalist U.S. – that led people and their leaders to put their heads in the sand and allow COVID-19 to spread until it was too late to avert a health, economic, and quality-of-life catastrophe.

This all has me thinking back to an article I posted a prehistoric month-and-a-half ago, about the role of Seoul’s transit system in the Oscar-winning film Parasite. The film’s wealthy couple – facultative parasites, in contrast to obligate coronavirus – make classist remarks about their city’s subway and the people who use it. I concluded that the couple’s disrespect for the impeccable system underlying their economic success represents a flaw in the human condition.

In that article, written in the early days of Wuhan’s lockdown, I also suggested that a sudden calamity could be what’s needed for our species to evolve past this flaw.

If COVID-19 is that predicted calamity, Korean society’s structure – with ruthless efficiency underlying stark class divides – has proven not the problem, but the answer.

No, the peninsula hasn’t fixed its figurative or literal divides overnight. In the south, kids are set to begin their school year of 16-hour days (albeit remotely) in hopes of getting a shot at a coveted position serving Chaebol oligarchs; people who miss out on that white-collar dream face stifling “Hell Joseon” realities. And courtesy of that guy up north, missiles still fly above it all.

But South Korea got things done as the virus closed in. The country took aggressive, arguably invasive, but absolutely needed measures to identify and isolate people who have or were exposed to COVID-19. Though sporting events and K-Pop concerts might be on hold for now, as a result of these measures people can sustain relatively normal daily lives, exercising outside or riding transit – with sanitized confidence that their stations will be open and their buses will show up – without facing public shame. 

A consequence of oppressive inefficiency. (Photo by me)

Sadly, it’s too late for the U.S. to overcome its oppressive inefficiency and experience a quick return to normalcy. But a pivot to ruthless efficiency could lift us personally and societally, making the pandemic more survivable and tolerable for not just the transit industry, but us all.

At the industry level, as tempting as it may seem we’re not going to efficiently unravel the social engineering that’s given us decades of car culture and road expansions. Nor are transit agencies going to efficiently flatten the COVID-19 curve by themselves.

But we can be ready to efficiently respond to changing transportation behavior as the outbreak continues and eventually eases. Among things to consider as we move towards the aftermath:

1. People may continue working from home in increased numbers, leading to more localized travel patterns than those pre-COVID, or may return to commuting to central offices.
2. When mandated social distancing ends we may rush out on the town en masse, our stir-craziness giving way to increased mobility demand, or we may continue to stay in more because our own finances and the businesses we patronize are slow to recover.
3. People’s perceptions of health and safety on transit vehicles may be unchanged or reassured, or they may fear that they’ll catch an illness on a bus or train, leading to the possibility of reduced ridership amidst worse traffic.
4. Regarding active transportation, people may continue to bike and walk more, having grown more comfortable with these options and developed a renewed appreciation for the outdoors, or they may revert to their old habits as gyms reopen and life in general becomes less stressful.

The agencies and organizations that manage our roads, transit systems, and bikeshare programs must be prepared to move the public under any and every combination of these four scenarios.

But looking back at that National Review article, certain behavioral outcomes of the four scenarios seem universally preferable:

1. The article posits that smaller-scale communities would alleviate stress and congestion in today’s monocentric metro areas. Such communities, in which more people work at or nearer to their homes, are by definition mixed-use and facilitate more polycentric, less peaked mobility. Thus, it’s relatively easy and cheap to connect these communities by transit.
2. Everyone wants a better economy; people and the markets earn more when businesses bustle and money flows in.  Our coronavirus-era pivot to hoarding and delivery has had the opposite effect, and things will get worse the longer this hub-and-spoke pattern lasts. This helps explain the article’s admission that dense, collaborative cities – with their spillover effects and economies of scale – have to date served as the globe’s primary hubs for productivity and innovation.
3. People who ride transit – and by people, I mean anyone who needs or wants to get somewhere – prefer that their buses and trains are spotless and don’t have any desire to fall ill when they ride. And no one – not even the writers of that article, who opine about awful car commutes – likes traffic, regardless of their chosen transportation mode.
4. People have always liked going out and getting fresh air, even if coronavirus is making them appreciate that air a little more. The article advocates specifically for walkable neighborhoods, for example.

So, we’ve identified some achievable efficiency goals: compact, connected activity hubs; an open, vibrant economy; safe, reliable mobility; and space to enjoy the outdoors. Now, how can we achieve these goals?

Focusing on activities within our control, like socially-distanced walks in Rock Creek Park, is a way to maximize efficiency during COVID-19. (Photo by me)

During this time of isolation, perhaps the best strategy is focusing on the one thing we can control: our own personal efficiency. 

   

We can start by just doing things that make sense. If you have the option to walk to local grocery stores and takeout places instead of driving to Costco or Walmart, do it. If you see an opportunity to benefit your community or just do someone a favor, take advantage. And if you’re not literally sick, but are sick of being inside, step outside for a while – just be sure to stay at least six feet from others.

Because by using our time more efficiently, we’ll set the stage for a more functional post-pandemic society.

Road diets flatten the curve

Pedestrians and cyclists on Beach Drive in DC's Rock Creek Park during the covid-19 crisis. Sections of the road are car-free on the weekends, giving people an opportunity to move around outdoors while practicing social distancing. (Photo by me)

Covid-19 has spread empty roads, buses, and trains across the globe. 

In the midst of the deserted asphalt, however, people and person-sized vehicles have tested positive for resiliency. Biking, walking, running, and scootering have become go-to options for a variety of trip types, providing a socially-distant way to access work or the grocery store, or to simply get some fresh outdoor air.

In New York City, where Mayor Bill de Blasio encouraged people to bike more, CitiBike use rose 70 percent and cyclist numbers on major bridges rose 50 percent as the pandemic bore down. Anecdotally, the trails crisscrossing DC and its Maryland and Virginia suburbs have been busier than I’ve ever seen them during the past week, with a fascinating mix of experimental commuters, people just out enjoying themselves, and the spandex-clad who blow past everyone.

Here’s how we can inject safety and resiliency into the infrastructure for active mobility that’s getting society through this emergency, flattening lethal curves in not just the battle against covid-19, but also the wars on traffic violence and inequality.

Right-size our roads

When transit ridership fluctuates, as has happened during the covid-19 crisis, we’re told that headways and capacity need to be “right-sized” to compensate. Treating our highways and arterials the same way will ensure our public infrastructure better meets society’s needs.

Traffic violence costs the U.S. health care system more than $24 billion annually. And akin to coronavirus’s exponential spread, the risk of death or serious injury in a car crash doubles for every 5 km/h (3.1 mph) speed increase above 60 km/h (37 mph).

Thus, nudging driver speeds even just slightly down not only saves countless lives directly, but also frees up essential hospital capacity needed to treat people afflicted with coronavirus.  

Firstly, traffic planners should eliminate commute-oriented road capacity expansions that covid-19 has de-induced demand for.

For example, DC deserves kudos for suspending operation of the reversable traffic lanes on Connecticut Avenue. I live within steps of this pedestrian-quarantining arterial and have witnessed how wider roads – including temporarily wider ones – encourage speeding and other dangerous driving habits. Hard evidence backs up my observations – the Institute of Transportation Engineers found that Connecticut has three times as many crashes as Massachusetts Ave, a comparable DC arterial that doesn’t have reversible lanes – so local leaders should consider also suspending operation of similarly unneeded lanes on streets including Independence Ave, Canal Road, and Rock Creek Parkway.

Officials also should slash aspects of streets and intersections that endanger pedestrians or make them walk far out of their way. The aforementioned crash lethality curve is sharpest for people outside vehicles; the U.K.'s Transport Research Laboratory found that a person struck by a 30 mph driver has about a 90 percent chance of surviving, but the odds drop to less than 10 percent if the driver is moving at 50 mph.

More mid-block High-Intensity Activated Crosswalk signals, Barnes Dance Intersections that allow diagonal pedestrian crossings, and Leading Pedestrian Intervals that give people a head start; along with fewer right turns on red, slip lanes, and unprotected left turns across crosswalks, would reduce hazardous conflicts and flatten this curve.

Make usable urban space more abundant

Pilot repurposing of underused road space for people and person-sized vehicles would give people safer, more plentiful six-foot radii to enjoy. We can start by simply keeping spots that occasionally give pedestrians a little extra room, like Georgetown’s M Street or Rock Creek Park’s Beach Drive in DC, that way for the duration of the crisis.

Cities have spent a lot of time building networks of protected bike lanes on paper, but in this situation, the public needs those lanes to be reality.

DC’s decision to suspend the Connecticut Ave reversible car lanes, for example, gives the city a chance to try out the proposed cycletrack on that street that would fill a major gap in its network. Protected lane projects on 20^th and 21^st street also can proceed without worry because the Phillips Collection art museum, a prominent opponent of those lanes, is closed due to covid-19.

Bus connectivity remains essential to those onboard, so leaders should test out their similarly extensive networks of currently paper-imprisoned bus lanes. DC’s now-permanent lanes on H and I streets, people-oriented conversion of major thoroughfares in New York and San Francisco, and streamlined federal regulations on lane re-painting demonstrate how simple it can be to roll out these networks.

Even smaller improvements, like all-door boarding, signal prioritization, and queue jump lanes at intersections, can substantially reduce travel times for bus riders. Montgomery County, MD’s Ride On bus system, for example, was the DC region’s first to suspend fares and mandate rear-door boarding in its efforts to combat covid-19, and a number of the region’s other transit providers have followed suit.

And if our leaders are feeling really bold, they could give urban gems like New York’s East River waterfront, California’s Old Sacramento, or aforementioned Rock Creek Park back to people for a while, giving their constituents space to unwind and release some of the stress and adversity this virus has brought us. They could even create regional networks of open streets, akin to those Mexico City and other metropolises enjoy every weekend. Such additional space would address overcrowding issues that have arisen on high-demand routes like Dallas's Katy Trail, where the nonprofit organization that manages the path had to tell people to stay away due to concerns about covid-19 spread.   

When the pandemic is brought under control, those in charge could choose to either embrace these various types of people-oriented spaces or to return them to drivers. Even if they opt for the latter, officials will have collected troves of data that they and their staff can use to bolster our transit and active transportation networks in the future.

Provide people easy, affordable, and equitable access to person-sized vehicles

Many U.S. bike- and scooter-share systems operate without taxpayer subsidies, a testament to how high demand for sustainable, spatially-efficient personal mobility is.

However, some operators of these systems, particularly ride-hailing companies, have taken actions – such as suddenly hiking fares, neglecting low-income neighborhoods, or even ditching entire regions with little warning – that don’t align with the public’s need for connectivity. These actions block some people from accessing the systems; for others, they are just plain annoying.

To ensure we get everything we can out of our shared bikes and scooters during the fight against covid-19, we should publicly fund them for the duration of the crisis. Such funding would allow operators to set fare structures mirroring those of the transit systems they complement, appropriate given that people can use them for a similar array of trip types while practicing social distancing, and eliminate arbitrary barriers such as the two minute delay New York CitiBike riders are currently required to endure between docking and re-renting a bike.

To the extent feasible, operators should equip bike- and scooter-share systems to accept contactless smartcards and other transit fare media; this way, people could consistently access all person-sized vehicles in a given city instead of fiddling with a fleet of apps and payment methods. They also should coordinate their system rebalancing efforts to ensure regions have thorough and equitable access.

After things return to normal, operators and local leaders could assess whether to sustain a unified, publicly managed approach to shared bikes and scooters or return to a more siloed private-sector model. As with the re-purposed bike lanes, transit lanes, and public spaces described earlier, data gathered during the emergency would help them make a more informed decision.

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While humanity has its flaws, our ability to adapt amidst crisis has led to some of our greatest advancements and accomplishments.

Against covid-19, basic re-purposing of our urban space – including how we interact with and move through it – may be not only our key to short-term resiliency in our efforts to flatten the curve and fight this disease, but also a way to make places more livable and connected for decades to come.    

Transit and coronavirus: a policy primer, and some suggestions for riders

On April 6, Yolobus and Sacramento Regional Transit's jointly-operated Causeway Connection bus route will start serving UC Davis Medical Center, where medical workers are treating the first person to catch the Coronavirus through suspected community transmission in the U.S. (Photo courtesy of UC Davis)

The covid-19 outbreak has struck Italy and South Korea, two places that mean a lot to me, with full force. The two hard-hit countries have made groundbreaking strides in mobility – Seoul’s rail and bus networks made me a transit advocate; while Italy, the land of my ancestry, pioneered a balanced mix of public and private sector high-speed rail operation, a model that France and the U.S. are set to emulate.

The coronavirus is now bearing down on Northern California, where I grew up. As the region organizes to control the epidemic, its expanding transit system must show the world how to best employ mobility as a life-saving tool against the outbreak.  

As the situation develops, the Sacramento area’s Regional Transit and Yolobus are preparing to launch the jointly operated Causeway Connection, an electrified, limited-stop bus line linking the UC Davis campus with the university’s East Sacramento medical center, on April 6. While not perfect – the buses will fight U.S. 50 and Interstate 80 traffic congestion – the new line will fill some key gaps in the region’s transit system:

• The new Connection, which replaces a private shuttle that was only open to university affiliates, will provide the first one-seat public transit ride between the campus – the origin or destination of 90 percent of trips on Davis’s local Unitrans bus system – and the bustling medical center.
• As for general Davis-Sacramento connectivity, the only two existing all-day, bi-directional transit routes are Yolobus’s hourly Route 42, which makes closely spaced stops and time-consuming deviations, and Amtrak’s Capitol Corridor train, which charges fares four times that of the bus.   

The hospital’s prominence in Northern California healthcare makes it a good location for a transit terminal. However, that prominence also has delivered the first person in the U.S. to catch the coronavirus through suspected community transmission to the facility.

As UC Davis doctors strive to treat the seriously ill patient, we can consider two perspectives on the role of the Causeway Connection’s in the Sacramento region’s efforts to fight the virus:

• During a potential pandemic situation, transit links to medical facilities are particularly important. Such links give people from all walks of life access to care while also making sure health workers can reliably get to the facilities and treat their patients.
• However, some may fear that improved bus connectivity to the hospital will cause Sacramento’s transit system to hasten coronavirus’s spread, potentially encouraging some individuals to advocate not just against the new route, but for larger-scale regional cuts to service.

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Mobility has been an integral component of coronavirus’s story, starting with its rapid spread at the Huanan Seafood Market situated less than a mile from Wuhan, China’s train station. During the virus’s subsequent international spread, we’ve seen authorities adhere to a mix of the two potential Sacramento perspectives described above.

And thus far, the mobility-oriented approach appears to be more effective in combating the virus.  

China both cut off access to and shut down local transit within Wuhan and surrounding Hubei Province, Japan quarantined the Diamond Princess cruise ship, and Italy locked down a number of small towns that saw a sudden spike in known coronavirus cases. However, cases continued skyrocketing within the isolated areas, uncertainty arose around reported infection rates, and medical experts questioned the strategy’s effectiveness. Officials of places like New York City, where municipal leaders have floated virus mitigation strategies intended to “limit or stagger” public transit ridership, should consider these sobering results before taking any drastic action.

In contrast, jurisdictions including South Korea, Milan (the nearest big city to the aforementioned small Italian towns), and Japan (the Diamond Princess ship notwithstanding) have sustained mobility and access for citizens. These places have combated the coronavirus through other means, such as diligent disinfecting of transit vehicles and public spaces, curtailing of large public gatherings, and aggressive testing of people who may have been exposed. This approach has helped people needing diagnoses or care obtain it without upending daily routines or causing panic and flight resembling the frantic final hours before the Wuhan lockdown.

Workers disinfect a subway station in Seoul. (Photo courtesy of  Yonhap/AFP, via Rappler)

The economic fallout of coronavirus’s spread, however, poses a threat to that sustained access that could continue long after the outbreak eases up.

Transit systems in the most significantly affected areas are already experiencing stunted farebox recovery. Seoul’s subway, for example, saw a 15 percent year-over-year ridership decline in late January and early February (even before the Shincheonji Church outbreak in Daegu came to light) – worse than what DC’s Metro experienced during its 2016-17 SafeTrack maintenance blitz that led to severe service disruptions – while Milan’s trams and subways have operated noticeably emptier than usual.      

In addition to this immediate fiscal challenge, should markets’ now-weeklong crash continue transit providers – especially U.S. agencies with their notoriously constrained budgets – will become susceptible to a repeat of what they faced during the 2008 recession: state and local funds drying up as consumers penny-pinch and revenue from taxes falls. Should transit agencies have to turn to service cuts to address such a funding crisis, as they did in the late-2000s, the usual bad actors could stoke peoples’ virus fears to exacerbate the extent of those cuts. It would take decades for systems and their riders to recover.

Thus, it’s more important than ever for both federal and local leaders to ensure plans to protect and expand our transit service are in place. Nationally, Congress must use this year’s surface transportation reauthorization to increase transit-dedicated federal funding and allow transit providers to use some of that funding to operate service. Localities, meanwhile, should take steps such as encouraging transit-oriented land use and restructuring transit agencies’ boards to better represent riders.       

  

A passenger wears a medical mask on a Milan tram. (Photo courtesy of BNN Bloomberg)

While Seoul Metro's ridership decline is attributable largely to people simply not going out as much, especially for non-work purposes, Yonhap News reported that some citizens who normally ride the subway have switched to taxis or private cars due to fears that they’ll contract the virus on a train.

But car-based transportation, though it renders people irrational, will not protect people from coronavirus.

For example, the virus spread at a party for taxi drivers in Tokyo, while at least 240 Mexico City Uber customers (why would anyone take Uber in Mexico City?) faced possible exposure after riding with drivers who had transported an infected person. Furthermore, anyone in an automobile is exposed to the century-long pandemic of traffic violence; perpetuates a sedentary, stressful habit associated with dangerous underlying health conditions that can make coronavirus more lethal; and contributes to air pollution that exacerbates those underlying conditions not just for themselves, but for everyone.

That said, while people can contract coronavirus anywhere (my only bout of pneumonia to date, for example, was part of a viral outbreak at my auto-dependent elementary school), shared transportation vehicles and stations are one place disease transmission can occur. Thus, riders should take steps to minimize their chances of contracting or spreading illness during their transit trips.

Unwanted germs can accumulate on handholds; while I think holding on is still the safest choice for standing bus riders, if no seats are available on a train I’ve found that standing facing the side of the railcar – feet a little more than shoulder width apart – is a comfortable and safe way to travel hands-free. Do keep a handhold in sight in case the train slows or speeds up suddenly, and be particularly vigilant when arriving at a station because train operators sometimes need to adjust to align with the platform, leading to an unexpected lurch. (Speaking of which, this would be as good a time as any for the DC area's WMATA to re-introduce Automatic Train Operation.)

People who aren’t feeling well should get treatment for their illnesses and should be welcome to use transit to access that treatment. However, they should strive to take care of themselves without spreading any diseases by donning medical masks properly, coughing into their elbows and, if possible, choosing a seat that’s not right next to another rider.

For people who want their own space, active options like walking and biking are also a good bet. Not only do these options reduce the possibility of close contact with others, but pedestrians and cyclists also enjoy a healthy lifestyle that make them more resilient to coronavirus or any other disease out there.

And should misguided authorities decide to lock down the area you’re in, these active options may become the only way to get around – and, if necessary, out of – a quarantine zone.

***

Even as coronavirus spreads through the places that shaped me, the illness has yet to substantially affect my current life.

DC’s trains and buses teem with riders, almost all of them mask-free, while the region’s leaders debate both increases to late-night rail service (good) and cuts to bus service (bad). And as I write this piece, I’m on Amtrak’s Palmetto from Savannah, GA back to the nation’s capital; we left an hour late because a new locomotive had to be added to the train, people donning Donald Trump and Bernie Sanders gear ride together, and despite Acela-riding Joe Biden’s win yesterday I can’t get a café car Stone IPA in South Carolina due to the theocratic state's Sunday blue laws. This is after I missed the last Chatham Area Transit bus from Savannah’s warehouse-surrounded station into town on Friday evening by 15 minutes, thanks to CSX freight traffic.

But I’m prepared for virus-caused changes that would render these situations trivial. Transit agencies, and the elected officials responsible for their funding and governance, need to be prepared too.

Yolobus and Sacramento RT, in launching and operating the Causeway Connection, have an opportunity to lead the way.