An MTR communication problem

It's a familiar scenario. Every Monday morning peak hour, the eight carriages of an MTR train come smoothly roaring down the tracks from Tsuen Wan towards the commercial spires of Kowloon. The carriages are packed, shoulder to shoulder, with up to 2,500 commuters crammed into each train. Suddenly, a passenger faints. A commuter within reach of the warning button presses the alarm. At the head of the train, a light blinks before the driver. Over an intercom with an outlet next to the alarm, he asks about the problem, then radios ahead to the next station. When the train arrives, a light is blinking outside the car where the person is sick; they are carried off, taken to the station office, where they are normally revived with a glass of water and a rest. Then they catch the next train to their destination. Well, that's what normally happens. It's routine. Monday morning is the favourite time for fainting cases. There's generally about three, but sometimes up to seven. Data shows they are mostly women aged between 20 and 40. So well-trained are MTR staff to handle this routine that delays are minimal, and most of the other travellers are unaware there has been a problem. But that is not what happened on May 6 when a temporary stoppage of services caused by a circuit failure on the track led to some trains being delayed for several minutes in stations. Within two minutes passengers were complaining of bad ventilation. They clutched their throats, undid their ties, frantically waved papers to circulate air. When one slumped in a faint, there was a wave of auto-suggestion and our premier public transport facility was stuck. In many of the stalled cars, people pushed the panic buttons which have to be inspected, unlocked, checked and re-locked before the train can proceed. It was this unnecessary - but understandable - wave of near hysteria that led to a rolling series of stoppages which brought our prized MTR to one of its few serious stops in 19 years of service. Many people who ride our slick underground railway have probably never seen the panic buttons or wondered what they are for. It's simple. If a madman runs amok with a knife, or a pregnant woman slumps to the floor and appears ready to give birth, or a gang of thugs terrorise and rob passengers, someone should press the button. The driver finds out what's going on and from his cab calls police or MTR staff. When the train arrives, aid is waiting. Two decades ago when the underground was being considered, a senior policeman named Mike Harris was seconded to the planning committee. It's partly because of the sage advice of this street-wise old copper, now deceased, that our MTR is the envy of mass transit officials the world over. The panic plunger was another such device. When used properly, it's highly effective. But if a person feels merely faint or unwell, the best bet is to quietly help them out at the next station and ask an MTR staffer - all trained to aid the ill - to give assistance. In a major crisis, sparked off by a comparatively minor mishap, use of the panic buttons can compound fast-escalating problems. Initial planning took careful note not just of the physical problems of a lengthy standstill in the middle of a tunnel, but also the psychological impact. Phil Gaffney, an engaging Scots engineer who has been working on the MTR for 19 years and is now deputy director of operations engineering, says the back-up systems can deal with any ventilation problem. But what would happen if a packed train stopped under the harbour between Admiralty and Tsim Sha Tsui? From an engineering point of view, he says, it's all taken care of. Even if the train stops, the air conditioning system continues to function. If the delay is more than a few minutes, huge fans four metres wide send a gale down the tunnel to keep a flow of cold air over the rooftop air conditioning units so they do not overheat. Technically, problem solved. Eventually, the trouble down the line will be sorted out, hopefully swiftly, and the train will make it to the next station. This is what would have happened on May 6. But people felt faint, or imagined they felt faint, and warning plungers were pressed up and down the trains. On that day, when MTR staff ran to where lights were flashing, people said they could not remember pressing the plunger. So staff had to look about to see if there was someone fainting or unwell. It all added to the chaos. Of the 44 people taken to hospital that day, all but one were discharged from hospital within an hour. Mr Gaffney admits there is a 'major communications problem' explaining to the public the proper use of the emergency warning system. Basically, he says, use of the plunger depends on one vital component - passenger common sense. In our communal list of assets, the MTR must rank as one of the most valuable. It's a sad note that we don't use it properly.