Safety

A considerable part of my working life has been in the analysis of occurrence data and trying to distiller the factors that cause or contribute to accidents and incidents. It’s rewarding work. An opportunity to influence that has value. I subscribe to the dictum that everything we do should contribute to continuous improvement in safety. Not zero risk but to keep risks low and under control, in so much as it’s possible.

Aviation only has the great success that it does because it’s a safe industry. For mass transport by air to be viable across the globe, the public must have confidence in it. They are willing to place whole families in the care of an airline to get them from London Gatwick to the Canary Islands for something that is not a physical need[1]. Regular leisure travel is a luxury and a privilege. We live in a fortunate age when overseas travel can be afforded by a large section of the population.

I watched the recent documentary on flight MH370. It’s sobering. It’s a story of the loss of a large aircraft that still seems unbelievable in this era. It’s the 10th anniversary of the disappearance of Malaysia Airlines flight MH 370 on 8 March 2014. The loss is a stark reminder that the oceans cover over 70% of the surface of the Earth. We know less about parts of the oceans than we do about the surface of Mars. The depths remain uncharted.

With a paucity of evidence theories have taken root. Official investigation reports are available. However, mystery remains particularly when it comes to answering the question – why? If as the documentary suggest, the willful actions of the pilot-in-command brought about the fatal outcome then there’s little to tell of his motivation. Highlighting the tragic Germanwings aviation accident doesn’t offer anything other than a context to possibilities. Evidence that the MH370 pilot-in-command was suicidal is scant. Although his known actions do not make much sense without invoking such a theory. Understanding what drives people to purposefully undertake unpredictable and irrational actions is an area of study that always needs attention.

Yesterday, Sunday, I was remined that threats to safety can come out of nowhere. Seemingly routine car journeys can suddenly take a turn in an unexpected direction. We become subject to the fates. I use the word “fate” but I’m not a great believer in the fates. Randomness plays a part but, in this case, yesterday afternoon, I was the subject to the foolish and negligent actions of another car driver.

On a wet “B” road that climbs and descends over chalk hills, there are triangular road signs that warn drivers that the road is a high risk road. What the signs are referring to is the wildlife. A deer may leap out of a roadside hedge at great speed and misjudge the road traffic. In fact, I did see an unfortunate small dead deer at the kerbside.

What happened to me had a purely human cause. Naturally, I would call it complete idiocy. Coming over the brow of a hill, and descending, suddenly there was 4 bright headlights ahead. On a narrow country road, with overgrown banks on either side that was a scary sight. Nowhere to go. In a faction of a second the overtaking car coming up the hill veered back into the right-hand lane. No more than a couple of yards in front of my car. Fortunately, there was no collision. What on earth was the motivation of that driver? Overtaking, at high speed, approaching the brow of a hill, on a wet county road, in poor light, sheer madness. A small red car, overtaking a larger car.

In safety work this points to the most difficult situations to understand. The irrational, or stupid or reckless, or carless human drives that are hard to design out of systems. How do we take effective corrective action when one person’s risk threshold is so very much higher than normal or acceptable? The problem with saying – take their licence away – is that this is always reactive. After a negative event. Maybe even a fatal one.


[1] https://www.simplypsychology.org/maslow.html

Autotraffic

Driving back from Christmas. That’s not a Chris Rea song. Although, he did write “Driving home for Christmas[1]” while stuck in heavy traffic. I expect the feelings are similar – moving down the line. It took some time. Redlights flickering everywhere. Looking at the drivers next to me – looking just like me. Looking stoic or miserable or both.

Our carborne irritations were trivial when compared with the conditions in Scotland. We didn’t get 80 mph winds. At least the snail’s pace of the traffic on the main A303 was a snail’s pace. Inch by inch we moved closer to where we wanted to be. No streetlights on the jammed part of the A303, yesterday. The light went up and down with the heavy cloud cover. Colours ranging from gloomy grey to even gloomier dark grey.

Windborne debris, litter, like discarded crisp packets, set off on journeys of their own. Waterfilled potholes blended into the grey of everything. Crushed traffic bollards popped up as if they were growing amongst the sodden grass verges. Occasional motorcyclists took their life in the hands as they weaved amongst dozy drivers.

In the stationary moments my mind wandered. Who were those people dressed in the storm gear doing the tourist march around Stonehenge? They were not going to give up one moment of their vacation. What’s a blizzard of rain comparted to a once in a lifetime trip around ancient stones?

I got to thinking – how would this work if half the cars around me were automated? Human behaviour is pretty erratic. Driver temperament goes from kind and generous to intensely mean. From the laidback CofE vicar to the road rage professional. The circumstance of the drivers is hugely different too. One may be surrounded by screaming children while another is lone, absorbed in their favourite podcast. The first is a couple of hours into the worst drive of their entire lives. The second is in no hurry and happy for the day to drift by.

I sincerely hope that the makers and promoters of “driverless” cars take the human factor seriously. We know enough from aviation to know that the interaction between humans and semi-automated machines is exceedingly complex. That’s in situations where operating procedures are tightly controlled and monitored.

It’s one thing for car makers to rattle on about the importance of safety, it’s another for promises to meet the road. I’d say this is particularly true for the average British main road. Given its provenance there’s an excruciating number of variables. A truly dynamic set of variables that increase dramatically with speed. Weather goes from plus thirty summers to minus ten ice packs. Worn white lines come and go. Grass verges overhang the carriage way. Tarmac cracks and puddles compete with mud sloshing across the road in the heavy rain. Magpies dart into the road to munch the carcass of a dead hedgehog. The one that didn’t make it across the road.

Human drivers compensate for all the imperfections because that’s just what we do. It’s amazing even what the worst of us do. On the other hand, machines must characterise every single non-standard situation with accuracy, reliability and at great speed. Next time, I’m driving home for Christmas it will be manual. Likely, for a decade more too.


[1] https://youtu.be/uSjq7x67kzM