Once a month, I and a hundred or so of my fellow cyclists do something that thousands of local motorists do twice a day: we take to the road in large numbers during rush hour.
That's my take on the East Bay Critical Mass bike ride, though there seem to be as many perspectives as there are observers. Others have described it as "a chance for us bicyclists who are normally pretty isolated to get together, to network and strategize. . . . This is a parade, a street festival, celebrating the potential of bicycle transportation," and "a monthly coincidence in which cyclists ride home together." The bottom line for many is that it's a lot of fun and really pretty empowering to be riding down major streets surrounded only by fellow cyclists.
There have been a number of bicycle advocacy rides in the last few years, including some rather large ones in Canada. Critical Mass was started as a monthly event in San Francisco almost a year ago, and has grown to 500 participants. A few months later another ride started up in the East Bay, mainly in the city of Berkeley, and has attracted as many as 150 cyclists. Others are springing up across the country.
Why would a few hundred people go for a bike ride together? There are those who think the point of Critical Mass is to delay traffic, but in practice what happens is that we mostly find ourselves visibly breezing through rush hour traffic that's not going very fast anyhow. We do contribute to the delay, but not by very much. Again, it's a matter of perspective: our contribution to the delay would be much greater if we were "invisibly" driving home in cars instead of "visibly" riding home on our bikes!
Bouts of guerrilla theater cause occasional intentional delays. Following the example of the Canadian rides, the ride will stop in the middle of an intersection and have a choking and gasping "die-in." Cars end up waiting a minute or two, but a bus can inspire miracles: cyclists rise from the dead to let it through.
Critical Mass has no leaders. People exchange opinions and ideas at the ride, either in person or on paper. The ride's only semblance of organization is expressed through quite a variety of printed handouts. The folks making these handouts have dubbed the power of the printed word a "Xerocracy," and some call themselves "Xerocrats."
XEROCRACY RULES, OK? Critical Mass is a monthly organized coincidence wherein hundreds of bicyclists happen to find each other and ride home together! There is no organizing committee, nor is anyone in charge, per se. Ideas are shared through a Xerocracy, that is, anyone can make copies of their ideas and opinions and spread them around. If you do so, you can become one of many Xerocrats! Be prepared to discuss your missives and defend your arguments!
[The text of a "Xerocracy" comment from a Critical Mass Missives leaflet.]
One astute participant has found a rather obscure word that describes the ride perfectly. Critical Mass is an aggregate of loosely organized tufts: a flocculus. That's exactly what it feels like inside the ride, and it's pretty clear that that's what we look like from the outside.
The folks we're in most direct contact with are the drivers in the slow-moving opposite lane. My observations indicate three major varieties of drivers:
"Avoid Eye Contact" -- This seems to be a more intense version of the many "eyes forward" drivers I come across in the course of my daily commute. From where I sit (on a bike saddle, of course), it seems as if these folks just don't want to acknowledge that a bike is on the road -- even if we're there in large numbers.
Giggling In Their Seats With Glee -- This is my favorite variety of driver. The kid inside them knows something fun and out of the ordinary is going on.
Honking The Horn -- These hostile folks are demonstrating a crucial skill, and don't seem to understand why it's not working. Sometimes the honks are responded to with a pleasant symphony of bicycle bells, while other crafty cyclists have whipped up some "Honk If You Love Bicycles" signs.
These drivers see us close up, at our most flocculent. Those cyclists wishing to communicate with drivers hang out on the left side of the road, some actually veering into the oncoming lane, handing out leaflets and shouting out what must be a confusing variety of sound bites, exhorting them to ride a bike instead of driving a car.
Most of these sound bites are good-natured, even humorous, but some are downright insulting. This has been the topic of much debate amongst participants. "Protesting cars is one thing. Berating people in cars is stupid, wrong-headed, and counter-productive!" writes one Xerocrat. I've not seen a berater's viewpoint in print, but in person a number of them have said, simply, that they're venting.
When I started participating in Critical Mass, I kept to the right side of the road -- following years of habit. Over time I ventured out to the left side of the ride, and this led to quite a change in perspective.
I found out that not all the folks veering into the oncoming lane did so out of choice. Most of us try to stay to one side of the road: it's safest when we stay together, because there are motorists who attempt to break into the procession. These very motorists forced myself and others into the oncoming lane; by attempting to break through, they force us into a flocculatory motion that leaves us nowhere else to go.
On one such occasion I was forced into the oncoming lane on San Pablo Avenue -- a divided road. An oncoming motorist 100 yards away and with plenty of room to change lanes chose instead to hit the accelerator and play a high speed game of chicken.
None of this had a salutary effect on my temper. I found myself more sympathetic towards the venters as I tried not to vent my own anger.
Heading west on University Avenue, some riders took up the Animal Farm chant: "Two wheels good. Four wheels bad." The media coverage I've seen of Critical Mass (and the Canadian rides before it) has all made mention of this chant.
I was glad to see that this chant was being done with a sense of humor, almost zombie-like; but we are living in an era that's both post-literate and post-ironic. Those of us who've read Animal Farm have to struggle to figure out whether this chanting is irony or an affectation of irony.
At any rate, the Xerocrats have sent out the word that it's the "two legs good" slogan was used by self-righteous arrogant bad guys, and its popularity has waned.
Is Critical Mass comprised of self-righteous bad guys? Certainly some people must think so, like the friendly woman who said, "Okay, but you've got to stop at stop signs!" and received a "No way, we're above the law!" in response. When the cacophony of sound bites dies down, certain ones will resonate, forming a perspective -- or perhaps the negative ones make the most impact, as they so often do.
The East Bay ride does get rowdy, especially when it passes by (and, in a few cases, through) car-culture establishments like McDonald's and Safeway. One time a good portion of the ride pulled off the road and into the AAA auto club parking lot, hollering and whooping. It was basically pointless (the place was closed for the day) but it was a lot of fun.
At one intersection our demographics came under scrutiny. One motorist called us "crazy white people on bicycles getting in the way." It's true, the ride is mostly white. And mostly of college age.
East Bay Critical Mass is currently more contentious than the San Francisco ride. This may be because it's a younger and smaller ride, or it may simply reflect Berkeley's contentious political scene. In the East Bay, autos may be handed flyers that cite them for "violations;" in San Francisco, the flyers are apologetic.
On the positive side, the ride is not as male-dominated as most bicycle events. At one ride I calculated that 30% of the participants were women. A good number are proudly and visibly lesbian, gay, or bisexual.
You can tell when the positive sound bites get through. "'Car-free Telegraph Avenue?'" one pedestrian echoed, "What a great idea!" When asked how they enjoy the fresh air and and relative quiet, pedestrians and patrons of sidewalk cafes display wide smiles.
The San Francisco Critical Mass ride has developed a few friendly strategies which may be adopted in the East Bay, such as "the cork:" cyclists who ride ahead to intersections to stop cross-traffic, holding friendly "Thanks for Waiting!" signs. It's been reported that these do calm hostilities.
Some people seem to be simply unprepared for the ride, even in Berkeley, a town used to many forms of protest. Surprised reactions blurt out -- as does an inordinate amount of hostility. Berkeley resident Bruce Parnas writes that driving past the ride was "not much of a problem" for him, yet "Thoughts of Death Race 2000 were running through my head. Just think how many points I could have gotten by running straight through the pack."
Parnas is apparently welcome to try scoring points across the bay. During the San Francisco ride in April, at the tail end of the ride, cyclists were spread a bit thin. A motorist decided to drive on through, glancing off one bicycle. 20 feet from the intersection he hit a cyclist dead on.
He attempted to flee the scene with the cyclist on his hood and her bicycle under his front wheels. Other cyclists came to her rescue: one jumped in through the passenger side window and pulled the car over.
"The police were so on his side I was shocked," reports one eyewitness. And indeed, the San Francisco Police Department refused to take eyewitness accounts from cyclists on the grounds that they would be "biased." The motorist was not brought up on charges, but the cyclist who jumped into the car was -- as was the cyclist he hit.
Some police officers in Berkeley and San Francisco, when asked, have responded that they don't really mind the ride as long as it doesn't get out of hand. They would like the ride to stay legal.
Can Critical Mass be legal? Minor vehicle code infractions take place during the ride, though none of these are necessary; but running red lights, apparently, is. The San Francisco ride tried stopping for red lights and found it utterly unworkable -- more of a mess than keeping together.
Some consider the ride a "parade," others a "procession." Once legally started through an intersection, either of these can continue even if the light turns red, until all participants are through the intersection. Police on both sides of the bay currently find this acceptable.
Indeed, both police departments have provided an escort of sorts. In San Francisco a motorcycle cop comes along and sits in the intersection, though usually in such a way as to block the cyclists at the left of the ride, which at times causes mini-pileups. In Berkeley, two bicycle cops have actually acted as the "corks."
Not all ride participants are happy having a police presence. Some cite being mishandled by Berkeley police during a protest against the expansion of Interstate 80. Another view is that a police presence compromises the autonomy of the ride.
As cyclists, the Berkeley bicycle cops are the police officers in closest contact with the ride. They've had the whole gamut expressed to them, from abuse and insults to calm discussions about civil disobedience.
On the other hand, I've yet to see a single participant happy to to see a police car join the ride. Typically a police car will tail the ride and bark orders through megaphone. "They're just like the folks who lay on their horns," remarked one cyclist. Indeed, the orders are even less effective than then horn-honking. Demands to keep to the right inspire a flocculation to the left. Demands to keep moving tend to slow the ride down.
The San Francisco ride's Xerocrats stress that the ride is in development. This is even more true for the younger East Bay ride. Neither ride has come close to its potential, but each has had its effects.
Participants in both rides report feeling "charged up" after the rides. For some, that's enough in itself.
Both rides have brought bicycle advocates together and have provided a network for activism. 60 cyclists showed up at a Parking and Traffic Commission meeting in San Francisco. San Francisco Bicycle Coalition organizer Dave Snyder guesses that 80% of them have been on a Critical Mass ride. More recently, East Bay Critical Mass participants showed up to remonstrate against a Hayward city ordinance that would place restrictions on bicycles in that city.
What's next? Just about anything. As a leaderless event, Critical Mass has plenty of room for growth. Participants are encouraged to implement their own ideas, and non-participants (including those who for various reasons are averse to the ride) are encouraged to join in with their ideas as well.
Those interested in joining the East Bay Critical Mass ride need only show up with their bikes at the Berkeley BART station on Shattuck Avenue at 5:30 PM on the second Friday of the month. The San Francisco Critical Mass Ride starts at 5:30 PM on the last working Friday of the month, from Justin Hermann Plaza at the foot of Market Street, which is near San Francisco's Embarcadero BART station.
This article is a snapshot of the East Bay and San Francisco Critical Mass rides as of mid-summer 1993. A lot has changed since then, and indeed, in late summer 1993, half of the East Bay ride staged an impromptu protest against freeway expansion (see my CalTrans Coverup? article for details), and over 60 of them were arrested for bicycling on Interstate 80.
The "parade" and "procession" arguments are no longer advanced by activists nor accepted by the police on either side of the Bay. In this part of the world, at least, you need a permit for a parade and a funeral for a procession. Your local laws may vary.
Critical Mass has spread to nearly 300 cities worldwide. You can find a list of these at www.critical-mass.org. Some early Bay Area Xerocracy has been put online at the Critical Mass History Site.
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