ABSTRACT
In the main hall of the Traffic Information Centre (TIC) in Utrecht stands a two-metre-high video wall which displays in schematic form all the highways in the Randstad, the central western region of the Netherlands where most of the country’s largest cities lie.1 The Randstad is one of the largest conurbations in Europe, with more than seven million inhabitants and one of the highest number of cars per square kilometre. The TIC’s video wall is covered with green, yellow, orange and red dotted lines, which indicate the average speeds of traffic on any given stretch of the region’s highways. Green indicates that the traffic is flowing without any obstructions, while red indicates total gridlock. This morning the A16 which runs from Breda to Rotterdam is coloured red. A truck containing hazardous fluids has turned over on the highway, causing a backup that has already grown to several kilometres. The national radio issued a warning to motorists to avoid this stretch of the highway. But backups have already begun to appear on all the highways that connect to the A16 growing to a staggering 400 kilometres by later that morning. Meanwhile, the TIC’s traffic manager sits stoically watching how the situation is developing on the screen. He explains that from the control room you can watch a traffic jam come into being, but you cannot intervene to solve it. This is the reason he remains ambivalent about broadcasting urgent traffic warnings that interrupt regular radio programming. ‘People want to know that there is a traffic jam, but they seldom choose alternative routes. This morning, the A16 is not the only highway which is blocked. The diverting routes are also silting up. Many people will be late for work, but that doesn’t seem to matter very much. A traffic jam is something that is not your fault.’2
