I used to love to drive, and I used to drive a lot. In Australia, where I grew up, the distances between places can be massive, and when I was young, it was exhilarating to be able to jump into a car and drive hundreds of kilometres at a time.
As an adult with a young family, I often did the daily “school run”, transporting two children to different schools through peak-hour city traffic. Even then, I mostly enjoyed the experience of driving.
But since I’ve moved to the UAE, I have almost no urge to get behind the wheel. I don’t own a car, and I haven’t driven since this time last year – and that was when I was back in Brisbane.
It’s not that I’m over the idea of driving, it’s because – frankly – I find the idea of doing it in Abu Dhabi or Dubai a little daunting.
In Australia, there are “hoons” – mostly young men who speed and drive carelessly on motorways, or burn rubber in otherwise quiet suburban streets. But they are very much in the minority and are frowned upon by the community at large. A few years ago, there was a successful education campaign that poked fun at them, suggesting that to drive in this manner was less than manly.
My observation here over the past three-and-a-half years has been that it’s considered normal – or at least not unusual – to exceed the speed limit, even in urban areas; fail to indicate while changing lanes; fail to give way to pedestrians, even on crossings; talk on a mobile phone while driving; or to tailgate.
In Australia, no taxi driver would dream of doing these things, for fear of losing their licence and their livelihood. Yet in Abu Dhabi, cabbies are among the worst offenders, breaking the most basic of road rules. I take taxis at least 10 times a week and I can honestly say that on more than half of the journeys I have taken, the driver has committed an offence that should result in them being fined and accruing black points.
The most common, of course, is speeding. If taxi drivers were fined every time the “you are crossing the speed limit” announcement came on – as, arguably, they should be – they’d all be vastly in debt. I’ve also found very few drivers who use their indicators, but far too many who feel compelled to always get in front of the car in the next lane, no matter what risks are involved in achieving that.
It is clear that for cabbies, and many other drivers, the law does not seem to be a deterrent.
Human behaviour studies tell us that many people will break a law if: a) they don’t agree with the law; b) they think they can get away with it; or c) they don’t fear the punishment. I suspect there’s a bit of all three going on here.
So what does it matter if drivers break the law? Well, breaking the law often results in accidents. And accidents often result in death.
World Health Organisation figures reveal that a person is about four times more likely to die in a road accident in the UAE than in the UK, and twice as likely than in Australia.
But, to many, they are just numbers. Who among those reckless drivers has really thought through the human consequences of their behaviour?
Do parents who don’t insist that their children wear restraints ever think about what might happen if they had to brake suddenly? I’m sure it didn’t even occur to the family of my school friend who died under exactly those circumstances at the age of 11. That was 40 years ago, before seat belts were even compulsory in Australia. But even if they weren’t now, no child would ever ride in a car I’m driving without being properly restrained.
I sincerely hope that drivers pause to think about their behaviour in terms of the tragedy that could befall themselves, their passengers and other road users.
Is the hurry to get somewhere – especially if, as is often the case, it’s only a matter of getting to the red traffic signal before the vehicle in the next lane – worth a human life?
In Australia, in Britain, in many other countries, road deaths have dropped dramatically because of awareness campaigns, very stiff penalties, increased enforcement and – importantly – the greater social stigma associated with bad driving behaviour.
Strong laws are in place here, and there have been some positive signs of a drop in fatalities. But we all have to do more.
Firstly, the authorities should seriously consider recent WHO recommendations about lowering the speed limit to 50 kph in residential areas, and implement other changes such as making the use of rear-seat belts compulsory.
More importantly, though, we need a change in attitude across the community. We should not accept it as normal that every second driver speeds, cuts in, tailgates, talks on their mobile phone and fails to indicate. We should, as a community, insist on higher standards.
We cannot ignore the evidence that is all around us. On behalf of those who have died or have been critically and permanently injured in needless traffic accidents, we need to work together to improve the overall standards of driving.
A footnote: since beginning to write this article, I’ve been involved in an accident. My taxi driver hesitated while turning a corner and the cab was rear-ended by another vehicle. I was shaken but otherwise OK. I was, of course, wearing a seat belt.
bdebritz@thenational.ae
On Twitter: @debritz