[img]7|left|||no_popup[/img]While driving to and fro the other day, I noticed a bus completely encapsulated in advertising. It doesn’t matter who the ad was for – they’ve got plenty of attention as it is. What matters is that the ad was so tightly and completely wrapped that it was impossible to tell which transit system the bus belonged to. Only a bit of orange on the front gave any indication. And I wondered: Where has the romance of the public transit system gone?

Romance may be a slight exaggeration. After all, who gets misty-eyed over a bus? I admit I didn’t get sentimental over the public transit buses I had to take to get to school when I was a teen. But let’s think of a train instead. The majestic locomotives puffing and chugging along the tracks, a beautiful vista to admire, no traffic to wrestle with. I’m talking Orient Express romance here. Or how about the TGV if we want something sleek and modern? There was a time when the train was a dominant form of travel over distances long and short, embedded in the fabric of life. To some extent, we still have a bit of that railroad spirit, both in the quaint nostalgia of places like Travel Town and the vision of high-speed rail in California. Yet the glamour is gone. And the bus, though never especially glamourous, doesn’t stand much of a chance of getting close to the golden glow that once made trains such a monument to our mobility.

The car, of course, with all that it has come to symbolize since its invention and subsequent invasion, killed the spirit of public transit to a large extent. Why suffer the limitations of the bus or train when you can just hop in the ol’ horseless carriage and drive away? But although there are examples around the world of the car achieving a balance with public transportation, that’s not the case here. We can blame short-sighted urban planning for allowing Los Angeles to sprawl amorphously. We could also shake the finger at companies like General Electric for their role in dismantling the trolley system. Alas, the biggest thing that can be said about this is that hindsight has perfect vision. Cue wisecracks about history repeating itself. It seems to me, however, that the very idea of public transit is suffering acutely from an ailment gone out of control: advertising. Although advertising on streetcars and the like has always existed in some form, the wraps are like a parasitic invasion. First, they wrap and swallow the buses. Then they digest the bus and its occupants until there’s nothing left but brainwashed consumers.

To be clear, I am not opposed to advertising within reason. People can’t benefit from a product or service if they don’t know it exists. But is it really necessary to have so much advertising on everything? It’s a familiar complaint, yet one that has incredible relevance as new mass communication technologies are developed and as businesses look for increasingly innovative ways to reach the most amount of people. The problem is, in part, one of purpose. One could cast it as an assault on “sacred” spaces — aspects of living considered distinct from commercial interests and worthy of their own. In fact, these spaces, or aspects, or things with a particular purpose, are too valuable and special to be anything other than what they are. A more practical statement of the problem is one of symbolism. The bus has been reduced to a symbol of commercialism, of constant demands made on people to spend their money, of a pervasive advertising that shapes our social language to benefit the interests of business. What about human interests? Business is important, yes, but that’s only one aspect of living in this world.

The Importance of Symbolism

Given L.A.’s congestion problems as well as the global issues of climate change and environmental degradation, the functioning of a public transit system is more important than ever. When buses are symbols of advertising, however, what motivation is there to root for it? With almost everything now open to advertising — some people even get their heads tattooed or some such nonsense — what makes any given thing special is lost. Everything is advertising. Nothing else remains. So again, why care about public transit when buses are just another advertising experience? Buses don’t look pretty or cool or fun —I don’t see a bus and, like the trains of old, get that giddy feeling of wanting to go for a ride. Buses don’t speak a language to social values like cooperation, environmental awareness, efficient use of resources, freedom from traffic. But cars, all sleek and sexy, certainly do. I have to wonder what would happen to car sales if each and every car, as a way for carmakers to recoup manufacturing costs, made an advertising standard. Would cars still be so desirable wrapped in advertising? Would drivers still get that magic feeling going to and fro in a mobile billboard?

It may be that this sort of advertising is easier in countries (i.e. European countries) where public transportation is firmly ingrained in day-to-day living. When it comes to our car-worshipping culture, however, the symbolism of advertising — the language of advertising — undermines the possibility for a truly varied and organic system of mobility. In other words, if the ideal picture of getting people from place to place involves a blend of public and private transport, with each available to meet individual transportation needs at any given time, we need to infuse transportation with an ad-free sense of romance.

Frédérik invites you to discuss this week’s column at his blog.