With no apology for invented words, nor speling or grammarly errors.
Sirens. They’re antisocial, and a hallmark of a society struggling to contain chaos. This author assumes that both of his readership are already aware of why emergency vehicles do not sound their sirens (absent extraordinary necessity) after 11pm in most jurisdictions and 11.30 in others. See Rule 112 of The Highway Code.
Reference to that publication is probably as deeply as the original emergency services’ policy author researched legislation before coming to a decision, and settling on that time of night. And for most civil servants and civicly sensible people; who want seven hours sleep, and have to be up around seven most days of the week, it’s an obvious compromise.
Humans and animals with sensitised hearing, or indeed ears will know what an auditory blight they are in urban areas.
There’s something archetypal about making loud noise and the desire to draw attention to one’s self. Sirens are justified as the vocalisation of the cries of an innocent stabbing victim; of the wheezing gasps of a community pillar struck down by a heart attack – that for a short time, he or she must rightfully take pre-eminence over everyone else on the road. Even babies and the elderly trying to sleep in an afternoon, having not enjoyed a peaceful night in days or weeks.
The problem of the boy who cried wolf echoes in many things; familiarity breeds contempt, and an alarm constantly ringing commands the response of a maintenance crew rather than an emergency service.
Statistics are probably not available on how much hearing damage is caused by sirens; nor how many epileptic seizures are induced by strobing blue lights. Nor mental and biological stress and fatigue.
Statistics are probably available on how many people are killed or injured each year as a result of being run over or RTA’d by emergency vehicles hurrying to a scene or hospital. It’s not zero, and never will be.
With any hazardous phenomenon, for the surviving family, a single fatality justifies change to policy. Ask the IET who compile the electrical wiring regulations.
A solution to the epilepsy risk of those blue lights might be that they are re-engineered to illuminate and de-luminate on a soft 1Hz sine wave. It could be argued that the lights were the solution to the antisocial menace that was the siren itself – and probably was at one point considered such by minds greater than those of this writer. Or just minds. Repeat joke, I apologise.
Would sirens be much less effective if they were quieter? Or if their melody was composed less to alarm and more to inform? Would emergency vehicles find it much harder to weave through traffic?
This author perpetually feels that society is at a fork in the roads or on the precipice of a zeitgeist moment; where we have the power to choose one of two destinies. And that western, if not global society is headed towards a great division between the urban and the rural; the emergence of the 24hr Megacity as a gritty “oasis” of alleged law and order, isolated amidst a sprawling, “barbaric”, (but quieter) landscape.
This vision is perhaps best encapsulated, in this author’s memory, by various futuristic science fiction works such as Judge Dredd and to an extent, Blade Runner.
And better thinkers have noted and documented that the incumbent architects of our species’ future are already busy at realising the visions of those 20th century futurist authors, whose marvels of cinema and literature doubtless directly inspired them.
There was an article on 10th March, 2019, by Neal Sears, published in the Daily Mail about two identical twin sisters; one a paramedic, one an armed response unit police constable; who frequently run into each other during the courses of their shifts. Amusingly their respective colleagues routinely mistake them for each other. Allegedly (Sears’ comment?) they feel they have a telepathic sisterly bond. This author wonders if the known universe may collapse on the day that the life of a terrorist is saved by the sister of the lady who shot him. Both acting in their distinct, authorised lines of duty. Or if they might just have a falling out. Or end up entangled in court with telepathy being cited as a conflict of interest. But I digress. The story merely encapsulates… something ironic.
My second blog post and another call for a spirit of meta-maturity to solve a dichotomy apparently only being addressed by offices and officers who, comparatively and fundamentally have remained children for most of their lives. [footnote: the previous paragraph was added as an addendum to this post after completion; and ‘offices and officers’ makes reference not to the prior mentioned sisters, who are undoubtedly civic heroines – but to the planners who seemingly, still find it perfectly logical to have screaching sirens blaring out all day, only to be almost completely silenced at the witching hour]. Does your author sound too condescending?
He should. Informed perhaps by years of personal child-rearing and remembering the diagnostic advice on infant-care imparted by a lady once perhaps destined to become his sister-in-law: “if the baby’s screaming, he’s either hungry or needs his nappy changed, or he’s ill or just wants a cuddle” – check all those and then forgive yourself for giving up – for whatever duration is appropriate before restarting the diagnostic cycle.
Sidenote: refer to child-rearing manuals for cycle timings relative to age of the infant.
But don’t – don’t – go running to the infant shrieking or panicking yourself; that won’t aid in resolving anything; it’ll only encourage or sustain the alarm.
So turn the sirens off .Or down. And soften the lights. Certainly, the patient or victim may be ill; and may well have pood himself as well – and (God willing) will soon fancy a snack too… but as our societies become more internetted; technologically and psychologically; we may be overdue on taking decisive measures to save our urban centres from stumbling into a nightmarish future-noir destiny.
Later posts may address the First Horseman of the Apocalypse; the “Grammarly” product. And perhaps promote this author’s services in uninstalling garish white LED lighting and replacing it with traditional, warm, glowey incandescent or halogen luminaires. And doubtless all will be convoluted, extrapolated formulas of the basic Broken Windows Theorem. I really could have just tweeted “turn the sirens off, they annoy me”
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