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OPINION AND ANALYSIS

EXPLAINED: Rail services in rural France could soon be derailed

France will soon decide the fate of 9,000 kilometres of little used railway lines across the country. John Lichfield looks at whether there is any light at the end of the tunnel for the troubled train services in parts of rural France.

EXPLAINED: Rail services in rural France could soon be derailed
All photos AFP

For railways March is always the cruellest month.

In March 1963 Dr Richard Beeching published his infamous report calling for the closure of 8,000 kilometres of railway lines and 2,300 stations in Britain.

In March 2019,  François Philizot – Le Docteur Beeching Français? – will publish a study on the fate of over 9,000 kilometres of little-used railway lines in France.

They include a spectacular 277 kilometres line through the Massif Central from Béziers to Cantal which operates a single passenger train in each direction a day, plus an occasional freight. One of its many stations, Les Cabrils, attracts 14 passengers a year.

In the midst of a tenacious Gilets Jaunes rebellion, the government insists that it will resist any temptation to axe loss-making, rural railway lines.

Last year, well before Peripheral France revolted, it rammed through other reforms of the state-owned railways, the SNCF. It rejected proposals to save €1 billion a year by shutting 20 per cent of the country’s rail network.

(AFP)

The problem is that shunting the problem into a siding is no longer an option. Many small lines have been starved of investment for decades. The resources of SNCF Réseau, the arm of the state railways which owns track and stations, have been concentrated on France’s splendid new high-speed lines since 1981.

It emerged recently that some rural lines in the south-west have not been fully maintained for 50 years. Some track has not been re-laid since the 1930s.

Three quarters of the cost of local lines already falls on regional governments which are running short of funds. The government cannot afford to bail them out. The transport ministry calculates that it is cheaper to hire fleets of taxis than to operate lines with less than 200 travellers a day.

Something like half – over 4,500 kilometres – of France’s “lignes de desserte fine” (lines of local access)  are now operating at low speeds because the track is unreliable. Several dozen of them have been “suspended” but not yet officially axed.

Gilles Savary, a former Socialist deputy, and expert on railways, says: “The railway is a territorial icon in France. Where there is the railway, there is the Republic. Shutting the local station is like shutting the local school.”

Full disclosure. I am a fan of railways. I spent much of my childhood at Crewe station closely observing trains.

I have long been jealous, on Britain’s behalf, of the fine new network of Trains à Grande Vitesse (TGVs) created in France in the last 40 years.

The problem is that the TGV revolution came at the cost of neglecting both suburban rail networks and rural lines. Some routes have been closed but there has never been a strategic plan for France’s “lower speed” railways. French governments have asked, but none has had the courage to answer, the questions posed by Dr Richard Beeching in 1963.

Is a local railway network built in the 19th century suitable for the 20th century – or now the 21st?  What is the purpose of single-track branch-lines operating four trains a day when almost everyone has a car and buses are cheaper and often kinder to the environment?

The Beeching Plan in Britain closed some railways that should have been kept alive. A few of them, like the line through the Scottish Borders and the line from Oxford to Cambridge, are being re-opened half a century later.

These are the exceptions. The great majority of the lines cut by Beeching had long outlived their original purpose.

(AFP)

François Philizot, the senior government official who reports on the future of rural railways this month, is said to be examining all options short of closure. They include converting branch lines to narrow roads dedicated to buses; or to rebuilding lines as driverless tramways operated by computer; or severing them from the rest of the network to save costs on signalling.

M. Philizot should also ponder what happened to many of the Beechingised lines in the UK, which have since been rebuilt by volunteers as heritage steam railways.

Many of France’s underused and neglected railways pass through spectacular countryside. With a little public or private investment, they could become tourist railways which bring income to their regions rather than swallow tax-payers’ euros.

The Gilet Jaunes rebellion has made Paris unusually sensitive to the problems of La France Profonde. It’s possible that any recommendations for investment from Mr Philizot will be taken seriously.

 (Regional train map for central France. How many of these lines will be around in 10 years time? Photo: TER/Wikicommons)

 (Regional train map for Midi-Pyrenees. How many of these lines will be around in 10 years time? Photo: TER/Wikicommons)

More likely, the government and the SNCF will continue with their present policy of Beeching-by-stealth. Thirty small lines have been “suspended” in the last decade. Without new spending, railway unions say, many more lines will have to be closed for safety reasons.

“In the next two or three years, 40 per cent of small lines are at risk if government doesn’t put its hand in its pocket for repairs,” says Bruno Poncet of the militant union Sud Rail.

In truth, the government’s pockets are empty, and likely to be emptier after its past and future concessions to the Gilets Jaunes.

There is little light at the end of the 38 tunnels on the 277 kilometres from Béziers on the Mediterranean coast to Neussargues in the Cantal.

You can follow John Lichfield on Twitter at @John_Lichfield

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OPINION AND ANALYSIS

OPINION: Why Germans’ famed efficiency makes the country less efficient

Germans are famous for their love of efficiency - and impatience that comes with it. But this desire for getting things done as quickly as possible can backfire, whether at the supermarket or in national politics, writes Brian Melican.

OPINION: Why Germans' famed efficiency makes the country less efficient

A story about a new wave of “check-outs for chatting” caught my eye recently. In a country whose no-nonsense, “Move it or lose it, lady!” approach to supermarket till-staffing can reduce the uninitiated to tears, the idea of introducing a slow lane with a cashier who won’t sigh aggressively or bark at you for trying to strike up conversation is somewhere between quietly subversive and positively revolutionary – and got me thinking.

Why is it that German supermarket check-outs are so hectic in the first place?

READ ALSO: German supermarkets fight loneliness with slower check outs for chatting

If you talk to people here about it – other Germans, long-term foreign residents, and keen observers on shorter visits – you’ll hear a few theories.

One is that Germans tend to shop daily on the way home from work, and so place a higher premium on brisk service than countries where a weekly shop is more common; and it is indeed a well-researched fact that German supermarket shopping patterns are higher-frequency than in many comparable countries.

Bavarian supermarket

A sign at a now-famous supermarket in Bavaria advertises a special counter saying “Here you can have a chat”. Photo: picture alliance/dpa | Karl-Josef Hildenbrand

Another theory is that, in many parts of the country (such as Bavaria), supermarket opening hours are so short that there is no other way for everyone to get their shopping done than to keep things ticking along at a good old clip.

The most simple (and immediately plausible) explanation, of course, is that supermarkets like to keep both staffing and queuing to a minimum: short-staffing means lower costs, while shorter queues make for fewer abandoned trolleys.

German love of efficiency

Those in the know say that most store chains do indeed set average numbers of articles per minute which their cashiers are required to scan – and that this number is higher at certain discounters notorious for their hard-nosed attitude.

Beyond businesses’ penny-pinching, fast-lane tills are a demonstration of the broader German love of efficiency: after all, customers wouldn’t put up with being given the bum’s rush if there weren’t a cultural premium placed on smooth and speedy operations.

Then again, as many observers not yet blind to the oddness of Germany’s daily ‘Supermarket Sweep’ immediately notice, the race to get purchases over the till at the highest possible rate is wholly counter-productive: once scanned, the items pile up faster than even the best-organised couple can stow away, leaving an embarrassing, sweat-inducing lull – and then, while people in the queue roll their eyes and huff, a race to pay (usually in cash, natch’).

In a way, it’s similar to Germany’s famed autobahns, on which there is theoretically no speed limit and on which some drivers do indeed race ahead – into traffic jams often caused by excessive velocity.

Yes, it is a classic case of more haste, less speed. We think we’re doing something faster, but actually our impatience is proving counterproductive.

German impatience

This is, in my view, the crux of the issue: Germans are a hasty bunch. Indeed, research shows that we have less patience than comparable European populations – especially in retail situations. Yes, impatience is one of our defining national characteristics – and, as I pointed out during last summer’s rail meltdown, it is one of our enduring national tragedies that we are at once impatient and badly organised.

As well as at the tills and on the roads, you can observe German impatience in any queue (which we try to jump) and generally any other situation in which we are expected to wait.

Think back to early 2021, for instance, when the three-month UK-EU vaccine gap caused something approaching a national breakdown here, and the Health Minister was pressured into buying extra doses outside of the European framework.

This infuriated our neighbours and deprived developing countries of much-needed jabs – which, predictably, ended up arriving after the scheduled ones, leaving us with a glut of vaccines which, that very autumn, had to be destroyed.

A health worker prepares a syringe with the Comirnaty Covid-19 vaccine by Biontech-Pfizer. Photo: John MACDOUGALL / AFP

Now, you can see the same phenomenon with heating legislation: frustrated by the slow pace of change, Minister for Energy and the Economy Robert Habeck intended to force property owners to switch their heating systems to low-carbon alternatives within the next few years.

The fact that the supply of said alternatives is nowhere near sufficient – and that there are too few heating engineers to fit them – got lost in the haste…

The positive side of impatience

This example does, however, reveal one strongly positive side of our national impatience: if well- directed, it can create a sense of urgency about tackling thorny issues. Habeck is wrong to force the switch on an arbitrary timescale – but he is right to try and get things moving.

In most advanced economies, buildings are responsible for anything up to 40 percent of carbon emissions and, while major industrials have actually been cutting their CO2 output for decades now, the built environment has hardly seen any real improvements.

Ideally, a sensible compromise will be reached which sets out an ambitious direction of travel – and gets companies to start expanding capacity accordingly, upping output and increasing the number of systems which can be replaced later down the line. Less haste now, more speed later.

The same is true of our defence policy, which – after several directionless decades – is now being remodelled with impressive single-mindedness by a visibly impatient Boris Pistorius.

As for the check-outs for chatting, I’m not sure they’ll catch on. However counterproductive speed at the till may be, I just don’t see a large number of us being happy to sacrifice the illusion of rapidity so that a lonely old biddy can have a chinwag. Not that we are the heartless automatons that makes us sound like: Germany is actually a very chatty country.

It’s just that there’s a time and a place for it: at the weekly farmer’s markets, for instance, or at the bus stop. The latter is the ideal place to get Germans talking, by the way: just start with “About bloody time the bus got here, eh?” So langsam könnte der Bus ja kommen, wie ich finde…

READ ALSO: 7 places where you can actually make small talk with Germans

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