Intimidation
Thomas Jones · Policemen on a Train
On the train to Rome the other afternoon, three bored young policemen were roaming the corridors. Maybe they'd been on since Trieste and were going all the way to Naples: who knows. In the compartment next to mine a young black woman, travelling by herself, was talking on her phone. One of the policemen stopped outside the door to her compartment and asked her to be quiet. She ended the call. The other two officers swaggered along to join their friend. The three of them stood in the corridor, in silence, staring at her. I thought I should go out and ask them what was going on, maybe tell them I was an English journalist, possibly one who was writing an article about racism, or about sexual harassment... Or maybe I should I just go and sit in her compartment. I didn't do anything though, telling myself (yeah, right) that I'd intervene if they went any further, though of course by then it would have been too late. Eventually they got bored of intimidating her and wandered off. Next time I'll say something, I resolved. Next time.
Comments
From the obliteration of local time by the Great Western Railway in 1840 onwards, railways have suceeded in making individuals objectified, miserable and helpless. Sometimes the exmaples are literary; Tess standing petrified at the crossing with a dairy cow as the thnderous harbinger of modernity hurtles across her path. On other occasions they're far more chilling, as succinctly described by the LRB's headline on a review of Eichmann: "Four pfennige per track km", this referring to the charge made to Jews as 'one way third class passengers' on the death trains. Full piece here: http://www.lrb.co.uk/v26/n21/laqu01_.html
Whether you're a mildly racist functionary in a bumptious repressive state apparatus, a card carrying Nazi or the individual responsible for Virgin Trains bank holiday timetabling, an officious attitude to efficiency and "excellence" before humanity is generally regarded as an asset. Unless you're Swiss of course, in which case your fellow passengers are an even more immediate concern as this LRB letter (in response to an Alan Bennett diary mention of quiet coaches) illustrates:
"Here (Switzerland) the quiet carriage (Ruheabteil) is indeed quiet. I saw one chap being berated (silently) for turning the pages of his newspaper too enthusiastically"
Full letter: http://www.lrb.co.uk/v29/n02/letters.html#letter5
A highlight at Newark Northgate station on a Saturday in mid October was the announcement of the approaching London train and then, with gleeful mock empathy, "...there are 79 day shopping days left till Christmas". Possibly it's a Northern thing.