Commute

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GUEST INSIGHTS

The commuter's paradox: there's something to gain in the space between home and work

Academics <a href="https://theconversation.com/profiles/meg-elkins-427201">Meg Elkins</a> and <a href="https://theconversation.com/profiles/robert-hoffmann-219366">Robert Hoffmann</a> found for many of us, one of the upsides of 2020 was being freed from the grind of the daily commute.

For the <a href="https://theconversation.com/teleworkability-in-australia-41-of-full-time-and-35-of-part-time-jobs-can-be-done-from-home-140723">40% of the workforce able to “telecommute</a>”, COVID-19 social distancing measures saved us an average of <a href="https://theconversation.com/australian-city-workers-average-commute-has-blown-out-to-66-minutes-a-day-how-does-yours-compare-120598">about an hour a day</a> – and much more for those of us living in the outer suburbs of cities.

Studies show <a href="https://www.aeaweb.org/articles?id=10.1257%2F089533006776526030&amp;source=post_page">the morning commute</a> is the least favourite part of the day, and the commute home the third-least favourite (working is the second-least favourite).

Congestion, crowding and unpredictability increase stress and dissatisfaction. The longer it takes, and the more we have to do in the company of others, the more <a href="https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/full/10.1080/01441647.2019.1649317">we dislike it</a>.

But it’s also possible to miss aspects of that enforced time between work and home. For all its downsides, the daily commute does have some positives, acting as both a starter button and circuit breaker to differentiate work from home life.

As life returns to “normal” and employers ask us to return to the workplace, thinking consciously about those benefits can help make the most of your commute.

A commuting constant

Though we think of commuting as a modern phenomenon, spending time getting to and from work is as old as humanity. Hunting and gathering (going back 200,000 years), farming (about 10,000 years), and living in cities (about 5,000 years) all involved leaving and returning home. These routines seem to have ingrained in us an idea of acceptable travel times.

In 1994 an Italian physicist, Cesare Marchetti, wrote a paper, <a href="https://www.cesaremarchetti.org/archive/electronic/basic_instincts.pdf">Anthropological Invariants in Travel Behaviour</a>, on the “quintessential unity of travelling instincts around the world, above culture, race and religion”.

Drawing on the work of Israeli transport analyst Yacov Zahavi, Marchetti proposed humans had always been willing to spend about an hour a day travelling from and to home.

This idea of commuting time being 30 minutes each way has become known as Marchetti’s Constant. <a href="https://link.springer.com/article/10.1023/A:1010366321778">In a 2001 paper</a>, travel researchers Lothlorien Redmond and Patricia Mokhtarian found most people’s ideal commute time was, in fact, less – an average of 16 minutes – but their results also confirmed the dislike of any commute longer than 35 minutes.

A psychological buffer

The longer the commute times, the more <a href="https://www.propertyobserver.com.au/https://www.jstor.org/stable/25195346?seq=1">stressed and dissatisfied</a> we feel.

Yet without time between home and work, there’s also a downside. As Marchetti wrote: “Even people in prison for a life sentence, having nothing to do and nowhere to go, walk around for one hour a day, in the open.”

Commuting can be a ritual that helps us psychologically separate home life and work – switching off from personal concerns in the morning, and then detaching from work worries in the evening. A huge body of research over the past four decades show this “<a href="https://pdfs.semanticscholar.org/6d7e/066e2560942e54b68126cde36981e0a4ec9b.pdf">psychological distance</a>” is crucial to well-being.\

Research also shows that switching from our <a href="https://www.propertyobserver.com.au/https://doi.org/10.1177/036168430903300303">home to work “identities”</a> carries cognitive demands. A buffer between the two can help make this transition.

It is possible to achieve this psychological distancing without a commute, of course – by going for a morning walk and changing into work clothes – but the demands of both family and work responsibilities often mean we don’t make that time.

Making the most of your commute

So we shouldn’t necessarily spurn the return to the daily commute. Yes, there are downsides, but being conscious of the psychological benefits enables you to maximise its benefits.

Rather than thinking of it as dead time, think of it as “me” time.

In the morning, use your commute to plan your day. Research has found <a href="https://pubsonline.informs.org/doi/abs/10.1287/orsc.2020.1370">this increases satisfaction at work</a> and makes longer commutes more palatable. Maintaining <a href="https://hbr.org/2017/05/reclaim-your-commute?utm_source=zapier.com&amp;utm_medium=referral&amp;utm_campaign=zapier">small routines</a> on the way has also been found to help.

In the evening, use the time to unwind with pleasurable activities such as reading, playing mobile games, calling a friend or family member, listening to music or a podcast. These are activities you won’t necessarily have time for once you get home.

Doing nothing is good too. Many of us have little time for idle thoughts. Here’s a chance to let your mind wander. <a href="https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC4711352/">Free thought time</a> helps to solve problems and inspire creativity.

And, of course, switch to walking or cycling if you can. Along with the “alone” time it gives you, physical activity is strongly associated with <a href="https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S2214367X17301527?casa_token=5Ip4F4cfTp4AAAAA:9KlCbm2Xwl_MrN5eJEhWQm5OSISOCMCr8uXw6BfnHZu4jaM3ZivUvnIEj162HmgUlgQ3KyEzrw">higher overall happiness</a>.

You can’t necessarily control the amount of time you spend commuting, but you can control what you get out of it.<img alt="The Conversation" edceja="" ewwhlmcbx="" height="1" or="" qalukrwlr="" rgdwemapd="" src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/152887/count.gif?distributor=republish-lightbox-basic" width="1">

<a href="https://theconversation.com/profiles/meg-elkins-427201">Meg Elkins</a>, Senior Lecturer with School of Economics, Finance and Marketing, <a href="https://theconversation.com/institutions/rmit-university-1063">RMIT University</a> and <a href="https://theconversation.com/profiles/robert-hoffmann-219366">Robert Hoffmann</a>, Professor of Economics and Chair of Behavioural Business Lab, <a href="https://theconversation.com/institutions/rmit-university-1063">RMIT University</a>

This article is republished from <a href="https://theconversation.com">The Conversation</a> under a Creative Commons license. Read the <a href="https://theconversation.com/the-commuters-paradox-theres-something-to-gain-in-the-space-between-home-and-work-152887">original article</a>.
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You can’t necessarily control the amount of time you spend commuting, but you can control what you get out of it

urban.com.au

The commuter’s paradox, what Australians gain and lose commuting

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GUEST OBSERVATION
Few activities that bead our everyday lives have earned such dubious notoriety as commuting. That the words “hell” and “nightmare” are sometimes invoked to describe journeys to and from work indicates just how disparaged this part of our lives often is. The commute has often been depicted in dystopian terms, standing for all that is stressful and wearying about our contemporary daily routines.
These journeys are often so deeply routinised that we rarely stop to think about them. Researchers have explored topics such as the link between commuting and our well-being – with the former significantly compromising the latter.
And there are statistics, such as journey times between cities. A survey in London, for instance, reported that on average British workers spend one year and 35 days commuting 308,607 kilometres in their lifetimes. Other studies indicate the average worker in Britain spends 139 hours a year commuting, the equivalent of 19 standard working days.
This information provides a bird’s eye view of our commutes. Aside from such high-level diagnoses, little is known about how commuting is transforming urban life. Zoom in, and we can begin to appreciate how the journey to and from work is a strange, liminal sphere of everyday life, fizzing with all manner of events and encounters that, for good or ill, make a difference to who we are.
Liminal spaces
Overhearing a strange conversation in hushed tones. Seeing the first rays of early morning sun while listening to a favourite artist. Momentarily catching the eye of the person sitting over there, again. Half-noticing the person in the car pulled up next to us at the lights has tears running down their cheeks.
These seemingly inconsequential encounters are significant because they can transform us in subtle but powerful ways. They might take us out of ourselves, looping our own dramas into the lives of others, intensifying our sense of connectedness to worlds beyond our own.
All the encounters we experience on our commutes, all the travelling environments we move through, impress on us and leave their mark. Even if we are not conscious of how an event has affected us at the time, we might come to realise, sometimes much later, how forceful that event was. Over time, and through repetition, what we experience becomes part of who we are, and who we are comes to be part of the environments we move through.
What this means is that, rather than passively transporting us, commuting journeys and transport systems are actively changing us.
In the mid-20th century, when city suburbs were growing rapidly, philosopher Henri Lefebvre was worried that the corresponding lengthening of commutes was a sign our free time was being taken away by the demands of work. Yet far from a work-induced zone of “dead time”, as has often been the assumption of economists, commuting is a time when we engage in all manner of activities, for work and play, that shape who we are.
Our commutes are crammed full of activities both enabled and constrained by the environments we move in. Scratching beneath the surface of these activities reveals a myriad of motivations, from the stubborn bargains we might make with ourselves to put our commute to productive work, to the less volitional and more happenchance sense of being lulled into swiping through a carousel of social media feeds on our phone yet again.
My recently published book, Transit Life: How Commuting Is Transforming Our Cities, is based on four years of researching commuting experiences in Sydney. Rather than evaluating whether these things are innately good or bad, the research taught me that, much like a prism, commuting refracts so many other parts of our lives.
How commuting changes us
A woman I interviewed told me her new commute was much shorter than her old one, so she would have to sit for a few minutes in her car once she arrived at work. She felt she had got there too quickly and craved more transition time.
Another woman told me she’d grown tired of the sensory bombardment of driving to work. She chose to switch to the train, which extended her commute by an hour and ten minutes. But this gave her time to plough through novels.
Then there was the man who did a commuter cycling course to reduce the profound anxiety he felt about biking to work in perilous traffic. This ended up being the catalyst for his choice to pursue a new career helping other would-be cycle commuters navigate traffic.
Another woman bemoaned how her lengthy commute by car and then train took away from time she could otherwise be spending at home. Yet she spoke very affectionately about the sense of community that had built up over years in her train carriage, and how people looked out for each other, making sure they hadn’t slept beyond their stop.
To claim commuting is either a negative or positive activity belies its fundamentally indeterminate nature. Commuting can tire, deplete and cost, but it can also enliven, excite and energise. Both poison and cure, the commute is a zone in which the tensions and contradictions, the diverse influences and desires that are our lives, come to the fore.
The multitude of events and encounters experienced in our own commutes might prompt us to ask questions of ourselves that strike to our core. Why did that person’s actions agitate me? What was it about today’s journey that made me feel at peace?
A one-off confrontation in transit might rattle and frustrate us, but repeated exposures to a threatening environment might change our constitution much more markedly. One long journey to work now and again might be bearable enough, but doing it repeatedly over years might reconfigure our drives and desires more fundamentally.
<img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/100323/count.gif?distributor=republish-lightbox-basic" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1">Our commutes come to question us in ways that can shift our values, make us rethink just what it is that matters to us, and allow us to re-evaluate what our work, relationships and communities might mean to us. Stuck in traffic, it might only be when we are feeling at our most constrained, or at our lowest ebb, that a new way of going on in life might present itself.
David Bissell, Associate Professor and ARC Future Fellow, University of Melbourne
This article was originally published on <a href="http://theconversation.com" target="_blank">The Conversation</a>. Read the <a href="https://theconversation.com/how-the-everyday-commute-is-changing-who-we-are-100323" target="_blank">original article</a>.
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How the everyday commute is changing who we are: David Bissell

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<img src="https://counter.theconversation.edu.au/content/77867/count.gif?distributor=republish-lightbox-advanced" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1">
GUEST OBSERVER
Australia’s capital cities are getting more and more units, that are largely concentrated and come with a hefty price tag, a new report shows. And while these areas also have lots of jobs, the high price for houses means many on low incomes won’t be able to access that employment.
Between 2006 and 2014, more than 50 percent of new units were built in the 20 percent of local government areas with the highest number of jobs. 
When compared internationally, it would seem that Australian housing supply has not been as weak as is widely believed. However, the report points to some stark differences in housing supply patterns, emerging across Australia’s capital cities. 
In Sydney, Perth and Brisbane, new housing supply has lagged slightly behind population growth. In the other capital cities, housing supply actually outpaced population growth between 2006 and 2014. 
<h2>Housing supply and house prices</h2>
The issue of housing affordability has traditionally been pitched in terms of supply failing to keep pace with growing demand, and house prices rising in response to the imbalance.
<a href="https://www.propertyobserver.com.au/images/2017/05/18/Screen%20Shot%202017-05-18%20at%208.59.22%20AM.png" target="_blank">Click to enlarge</a>
<img src="https://www.urban.com.au/images/2017/05/18/Screen%20Shot%202017-05-18%20at%208.59.22%20AM.png" alt="">
Yet, house price inflation has surged even in metropolitan areas where housing supply exceeds population growth. The evidence suggests a complex relationship between supply, population growth and price that is shaped by both supply and demand-side factors. 
As prices and rents rise, housing costs continue to eat up larger shares of household incomes, particularly in moderate and low-income groups. 
The study shows 80 percent of new unit approvals were located in the top 20 percent of local government areas with the highest unit prices. This is while 80 percent of new house approvals were in the top 40 percent of local government areas with the highest house prices. 
There is very little new supply in areas where house prices are lower, where households on low to moderate incomes can afford to live. 
<h2>Affordable housing, cities and productivity</h2>
The lack of affordable housing in the vicinity of employment centres can pose threats to the productivity of our cities. If suburban residents are forced into longer commutes to access employment in the CBD, it can reduce productivity.
A potential consequence is that low-paid workers are deterred from seeking jobs in CBDs. This would then cause certain skills to become unavailable, and businesses to be less efficient, because they cannot quickly fill vacancies with suitable applicants. 
Our data shows new units have grown by 30 percent in areas which have the most jobs, between 2005-06 and 2013-14. In contrast to this new units have only grown by 2.5 percent in areas with less jobs. 
It would appear that unit approvals are concentrated in areas with abundant job opportunities. So productivity could improve, as congestion eases, and commute times lowered, if (and it’s a big if) these dwellings were affordable to those wishing to take advantage of these job opportunities.
New housing supply has grown at a pace that matches population growth rates, at the national level. However, there is plenty of variation across the capital cities. 
The strongest growth in the number of units has been in the territories (though this is from a low base), followed by Melbourne and Brisbane. However, the strongest growth in the number of houses has been in Perth, at around 22 percent. 
Sydney has experienced much lower growth in its number of houses, at less than 10 percent. This reflects the very different patterns of development in the two cities. 
In Perth, Brisbane and Sydney, increases in the supply of housing didn’t keep pace with population growth during, between 2006 and 2014. However, the drivers of this shortfall are varied. 
Perth’s population grew very strongly over the period that we studied. The roughly one-quarter increase in population would stretch the capacity of most housing construction sectors. 
Click to enlarge
<img src="https://www.urban.com.au/images/2017/05/18/Screen%20Shot%202017-05-18%20at%209.00.19%20AM.png" alt="">
However, even though Sydney’s population growth (at 14 percent) is below the average across all capital cities, its housing supply failed to match this growth. These outcomes highlight the different demand and supply side factors operating across states. 
We currently have a national housing policy narrative that is dominated by a consensus view that higher levels of housing supply are the solution to housing affordability problems. While increased supply will always help take steam out of pressured markets, our study suggests a more nuanced approach is needed to the supply side, while not ignoring the demand side pressures. 
It’s important that we identify those barriers to expanding affordable housing supply that have been impeded in the majority of our cities, especially for low income households.
<a href="https://theconversation.com/profiles/rachel-ong-113482" target="_blank">Rachel Ong</a> is deputy director, Bankwest Curtin Economics Centre, Curtin University.
<a href="https://theconversation.com/profiles/christopher-phelps-378137" target="_blank">Christopher Phelps</a> is research assistant, Curtin University.
<a href="https://theconversation.com/profiles/gavin-wood-113723" target="_blank">Gavin Wood</a> is professor of housing, RMIT University.
<a href="https://theconversation.com/profiles/steven-rowley-201914" target="_blank">Steven Rowley</a> is director, Australian Housing and Urban Research Institute, Curtin Research Centre, Curtin University.
All are authors for The Conversation.
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