Returning the Streets to the People

Yeojin City's street network was still built around the automobile. The terrace street ordinance had returned a few pockets of space to the public, but the traffic system as a whole remained untouched: narrow sidewalks, fast vehicle flows, and signal timing designed to serve cars first and pedestrians last.

I made up my mind. The road system had to be rebuilt in full, starting from the downtown core.

I convened a meeting at City Hall, gathering the key working-level staff from the Walkable City Division, the Urban Policy Division, and the Citizen Space Design Division.

"As of today, we are restructuring the traffic system of Yeojin City's downtown core in its entirety."

The meeting room went quiet. The head of the Walkable City Division asked carefully.

"Mayor, public backlash could be severe. We attempted something like this before, and it failed."

"The method was the problem," I answered firmly. "This time is different."

I laid the prepared materials on the desk.

First, stronger speed limits. Major downtown roads would ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠be capped at 30 kilometers per hour, with school zones, commercial districts, and residential areas managed under even stricter standards.

Second, scaling back traffic signals and introducing roundabouts. Reducing accidents would take a fundamental change in how we thought about intersections.

A staff officer from the Walkable City Division raised the obvious concern. "Mayor, roundabouts aren't familiar to drivers in this country. There's bound to be confusion."

I nodded. "There will be, at first. But once a month has passed, accident counts will fall noticeably."

"Every ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠city that has made this switch has seen the same results."

Cho Yeon-woo, head of the Citizen Space Design Division, offered a proposal. "Rather than rolling it out citywide, what if we pilot it in the old town district first?"

"Good. We'll apply it in connection with the Yeojin Stream restoration section and the terrace streets."

Third, reallocating road space. We would reorganize car-centric roadways and shift toward wider space for pedestrians and cyclists.

A team leader from the Walkable City Division added cautiously, "Mayor, lane reductions are certain to draw strong resistance."

"I know. But unless we rebuild around people, this city will never change."

The mood in the room grew heavy. Yet no one objected.

I closed the meeting with instructions. "Designate the Phase 1 pilot sections, draw up the roundabout installation plan, and map out the speed-limit zones. Submit a detailed implementation plan within two weeks."

Implementation began faster than expected. The Walkable City Division designated the old town center as the Phase 1 pilot area and pushed ahead all at once: replacing speed limit signs, dismantling traffic lights, and breaking ground on roundabouts.

White 30 km/h markings appeared painted on the pavement, alongside pedestrian-priority notices far more prominent than anything these streets had carried before.

Citizens passing through for the first time were thrown off balance.

"Huh? There's no traffic light?"

"When am I supposed to go?"

Drivers were tense as well. The old habit of moving on the signal's cue was gone; now they had to read the road, watch their surroundings, and yield.

In the first week, complaints poured in.

"This is chaos."

"It's more dangerous than before."

"Take away the lights and you'll only get more accidents."

I reviewed the complaint logs daily and kept up a running series of meetings with the Walkable City Division.

"These reactions are expected. Plenty of people are frustrated right now, but give it a month and the response will turn."

The head of the Walkable City Division nodded.

I went over the public explanation materials myself. The point I pressed hardest was this one. "A traffic light does not make a street safe."

To a pedestrian, a signal offers a momentary sense of security. But when a driver tries to beat the light or accelerates through the last seconds before it turns red, a single violation is all it takes to produce a catastrophic crash.

At a roundabout or an unsignalized crosswalk, by contrast, drivers carry a standing awareness that a pedestrian could step out at any moment. That uncertainty makes them slow down and look on their own, and the odds of a serious accident fall accordingly.

I laid this out for citizens in plain terms. "Instead of leaning on signals, we're building a culture where drivers and pedestrians watch out for each other."

One more measure was waiting in reserve. On smaller roads of two lanes or fewer, we removed the signals and instead installed speed bumps before and after the crosswalks, adding 'Pedestrian Priority, Vehicles Stop' signage.

The road's own design would do the slowing. This was not regulation imposed by force, but a structural way of making accidents less likely in the first place.

A staff officer from the Walkable City Division delivered a consolidated report. "Mayor, signal removal and roundabout conversion are complete at all twelve pilot sections, and speed bumps are in place at eight two-lane sites."

"Good. Manage the school zones as the absolute top priority."

"Yes, sir. Speed bumps and stop line markings are finished across every school zone."

At the same time, I moved to clean up the illegal parking around school zones. The Walkable City Division had proposed a 'School Zone Safety Guardian' program.

"We'll run it through the senior employment program. Elders will guide traffic on-site at the school zones and report illegally parked vehicles through the Safety Report app."

"Good. Start with one guardian per school zone, and we'll review expansion as the results come in."

A few days later, elders in fluorescent vests appeared at Yeojin City's school zones.

"Mind the children, please."

"No parking here, sir."

With warm words they cautioned drivers, and when caution failed, they went straight to filing a report. Within two months of the rollout, illegal parking reports in the school zones had dropped 40 percent. The children's walk to school was visibly safer.

As the weeks passed, public reaction began to shift. Early on, confusion and complaint dominated. "It's disorienting without the lights." "I never know when to cross." "Drivers and pedestrians both feel on edge." Voices like these rose from every corner.

But the Walkable City Division analyzed the data weekly and managed the transition systematically. One month into the pilot, concrete numbers began to emerge.

A staff officer reported at the meeting. "Mayor, accident frequency is clearly declining. Citizen complaints are down 35 percent from the initial rollout."

"Good," I said briefly. "Data doesn't lie."

The problem was part of the press. Several local dailies had begun running sensational headlines. Local papers rarely published pieces against Yeojin City's policies, but when the grumbling around town grew loud enough, they played their part through the press as well.

I summoned the Walkable City Division and the Public Relations Division and gave my instructions. "Do not respond emotionally. Explain calmly, grounded in official statistics and citizen interviews. Accident reduction figures, pedestrian satisfaction surveys, photographs from the field: open every dataset to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠public review. We answer with numbers and facts. Never with emotion."

Cho Yeon-woo added, "Mayor, it may also be effective to show the streets' transformation primarily through field photographs."

"Good. Gather photos of the terrace streets with tables set right in the roadway, the car-free streets with their crisp 30 km/h markings, the school zones where children walk in safety. Let the citizens feel the change for themselves."

Gradually, the tone of the coverage began to shift. Articles that had fixated on 'traffic chaos' started carrying themes like 'accidents down' and 'children's safety secured' alongside them.

One newspaper put it this way in an editorial:

I considered that sufficient. Changing a road is not simply a matter of adjusting a traffic system. It means changing people's habits, their assumptions, and the rhythm of the city itself. The process always brings inconvenience and resistance. But those who fear change, city and citizens alike, go nowhere.

I decided to keep pushing.

Six weeks in, the streetscape had changed in ways you could see. Pedestrians no longer stopped to wait for a signal. They made eye contact with oncoming cars, and drivers slowed and waited for them to cross. The movement of the street itself had changed.

In the old town center especially, the roundabouts' effect was unmistakable.

The Walkable City Division submitted its final report. "Mayor, since the roundabout conversion, the number of accident-prone locations has fallen to a third of the previous count. In the citizen survey, 68 percent answered that 'walking is easier than before.'"

I turned a page of the report and answered. "That means citizens are beginning to feel it for themselves."

The elders' satisfaction stood out most. Under the old signal system, lights changed too quickly, and many found themselves stranded mid-crosswalk when the signal flipped. Drivers, watching only the light, would start moving, and not infrequently neither side saw the other until it became an accident.

Now it was different. At unsignalized roundabouts and pedestrian-priority streets, drivers carried a standing awareness that someone could step out at any moment. They slowed on their own and scanned their surroundings. The share of elders answering that 'crossing the street feels less anxious' rose sharply.

Another welcome change was noise. With vehicle speeds down across the board, the roar of hard acceleration and sudden braking had faded considerably. "Even standing out on the street, it's quieter than before," people said. It wasn't only that accidents had dropped. Citizens were beginning to feel, in their own bodies, that the street was becoming a calmer, safer place.

Cho Yeon-woo added, "Mayor, around the school zones in particular, satisfaction is running high among parents and elders alike."

"Good. School zones need to be the first place in all of Yeojin City where the change takes firm root."

I checked again. "Have the speed bumps and stop markings on the two-lane roads been expanded further?"

"Yes. Speed bumps are in place before and after every crosswalk, and 'Pedestrian Priority' signs have been posted at every road junction."

The change on the ground couldn't be captured by numbers alone. In front of the open-air cafes that had sprung up under the terrace street ordinance, people were beginning to linger. Someone stood holding a cup of coffee. Someone walked along the promenade pushing a bicycle. A couple strolled slowly, a child's hand in each of theirs. The street was no longer a corridor to get through as fast as possible. It was becoming a stage where living time unfolded.

Of course, nothing was fully solved. Some drivers still grumbled. "Why is traffic so backed up?" "Cut the lanes and all you get is inconvenience."

Each time, I answered evenly. "A city is not a place to pass through quickly. It is a place to live. There may be some inconvenience for now, but the outcome belongs to everyone."

In my mind, I was already sketching the next plan.

The change had started small, but a definite current was now running. Yeojin City's downtown was returning to its people, bit by bit. It was time to begin the next phase.