Hit the Road, Jay

Do you follow the rules, or the herd?

In December 1913, pedestrians in Syracuse, New York had an unlikely adversary: Santa Claus, armed with a megaphone. A local department store had hired this jolly enforcer to bellow at anyone who dared to cross the street incorrectly, usually branding them ‘jaywalkers.’ I, too, have encountered strict attitudes towards jaywalking while living in Singapore, but when I moved to the Netherlands, I noticed crossing against the lights barely raised any eyebrows. It’s intriguing how a single act can be treated so differently in different places.

Originally, the term ‘jay’ drew from the inexperienced country dweller, supposedly so mesmerised by the city’s bright lights and shop windows that they wandered obliviously into other pedestrians’ paths. The term ‘jaywalking’ gained prominence in the 1920s, with ridicule reinforced by clowns who appeared in parades and pageants to portray jaywalkers as relics of a rural, backward, pre-motor age. As the automobile industry grew increasingly alarmed by calls for restrictions on cars, it shifted blame for pedestrian casualties away from drivers and towards pedestrians themselves.

By the 1930s, anti-jaywalking laws had become commonplace in American cities, and the idea has since travelled far beyond the United States. In China, authorities have devised their own rather inventive schemes: in Shanghai, jaywalkers have reportedly been made to recite traffic regulations aloud. Singapore, meanwhile, takes a more punitive approach, with repeat offenders potentially facing fines of up to $1,000 or imprisonment. On the flip side, in cities such as Cairo and Kolkata, where pedestrian crossings are scarce and traffic rules inconsistently enforced, crossing the road becomes an exercise in calculated recklessness. Yet the risks are far from theoretical: in Mumbai, pedestrians accounted for 57% of road deaths between 2008 and 2012, earning them the grim distinction of the “city's most endangered species.” 

The UK, by contrast, takes a more laissez-faire approach: jaywalking is not, in itself, a criminal offence. It is no surprise that different rules and expectations should produce different habits. For instance, research comparing pedestrians in France and Japan has documented striking variations in how readily people cross against the lights, even at comparable crossings. Such findings suggest that crossing the road is not simply a matter of judging the traffic, but a behaviour shaped by the social norms and expectations we absorb.

So what happens when these different habits meet on the streets of St Andrews? I decided to find out by staking out North Street, just opposite the side street leading to the library. Rule 7 of the UK Highway Code strongly advises pedestrians to use a nearby crossing. And with one just 150 feet away, surely no one would bother crossing here instead. Right?

Not exactly. But where I had expected a patchwork of individual habits, I quickly noticed something else: St Andrews seemed to have a strong herd mentality. During the hour I spent observing North Street just before afternoon classes — a particularly busy time — 339 people passed by. Of these, 101 made their way to the traffic lights, while the remaining 238 crossed wherever they pleased.

What struck me was that the deciding factor did not always seem to be a pedestrian’s obedience to or disregard for the little red man. More often, it appeared to be their relationship with the rest of the herd. People seemed less concerned with the traffic signal than with what everyone else was doing. Some even stepped tentatively into the road, only to retreat to the pavement when they realised they weren't quite as willing to take the risk as the crowd had led them to believe.

Whether this herd mentality is strategic or utter mindlessness remains unclear. Still, it’s rather sweet that strangers seem to have found some common ground: breaking the rules together. It reminded me of ‘Chinese-style road crossing,’ a term to describe crowds of pedestrians crossing en masse, seemingly convinced the law is unlikely to punish so many offenders at once. Faced with a crowd, the red man’s signal seems less powerful.

Illustration by Sara Watson