International Journal of Transportation Science and Technology 8 (2019) 103–115

Contents lists available at ScienceDirect

International Journal of Transportation

Science and Technology
journal homepage: www.elsevier.com/locate/ijtst

Transport accessibility for wheelchair users: A qualitative

analysis of inclusion and health
Raquel Velho
Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute, Department of Science and Technology Studies, Russell Sage Laboratory (SAGE), 110 8th Street, Troy, NY 12180, USA

a r t i c l e i n f o a b s t r a c t

Article history: Using the case of wheelchair users who choose to use public transport in London, this
Received 30 December 2017 paper highlights the experiences of a marginalized group within infrastructure to investi-
Received in revised form 6 April 2018 gate how transport impacts their lives and well-being. This article first describes the bar-
Accepted 30 April 2018
riers faced by wheelchair users in the transit network (from physical to social) and the
Available online 19 May 2018
largely negative emotions that these barriers bring out on these passengers. It then high-
lights how these users have developed problem-solving techniques to cope with the barri-
Keywords:
ers they face. The article then discusses the impact that these barriers have on the lives of
Transport accessibility
Disability
wheelchair users, not only regarding issues of access but also the ways in which it affects
Social inclusion social inclusion. Lastly, this article considers how wheelchair users’ responses to barriers
Universal design may be of consequence to the transport system itself, both as providing some interesting
Qualitative methods insight for transport engineers but also as potential harm to the network if improvements
to access are not enacted.
Ó 2018 Tongji University and Tongji University Press. Publishing Services by Elsevier B.V.
This is an open access article under the CC BY-NC-ND license (http://creativecommons.org/
licenses/by-nc-nd/4.0/).

1. Introduction

Public transport accessibility has often occupied the media limelight in the United Kingdom, particularly in the past five
years (Bullen, 2016; ‘‘Disability campaigners’ torch relay protest on Crossrail access,” 2013; ‘‘How Paralympian Tanni had to
crawl from train,” 2012; Rozenberg, 2015). The debate regarding priority use of the dedicated wheelchair area on buses (see
Fig. 1 in Section 3.1.2) and the accessibility provisions of the new Crossrail line have received attention from a variety of
stakeholders, becoming a rallying point for many disability and elderly charities in the country. This paper proposes to ana-
lyze public transport accessibility for wheelchair users in London from a qualitative perspective: in doing so, it aims to pro-
vide depth to a debate that is not easily quantifiable and to consider the ways in which inaccessibility can impact the lives of
wheelchair users in the English capital.
The links between transport and public health have been broadly discussed in the fields of transport studies, human geog-
raphy, and medicine. Many authors concentrate on the proliferation of, and alternatives to, the private vehicle and its con-
sequences, such as air pollution (Lindsay et al., 2011), traffic congestion (Kamargianni et al., 2018), and obesity (Frank et al.,
2004). Public transport is often discussed in the light of quantitative analyses of demand, such as how fares affect said
demand (Paulley et al., 2006), appropriate service provision through passenger modeling (Daamen, 2004), or measuring
the ease of passenger modal transfers (Guo and Wilson, 2011; Seaborn et al., 2009). Issues of accessibility, on the other hand,

Peer review under responsibility of Tongji University and Tongji University Press.
E-mail address: velhor@rpi.edu

https://doi.org/10.1016/j.ijtst.2018.04.005
2046-0430/Ó 2018 Tongji University and Tongji University Press. Publishing Services by Elsevier B.V.
This is an open access article under the CC BY-NC-ND license (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/4.0/).
104 R. Velho / International Journal of Transportation Science and Technology 8 (2019) 103–115

Fig. 1. Inside a London bus (view facing towards the front). To the right, the ‘‘wheelchair priority area”. Picture by author.

particularly as it is understood in terms of access for disabled people, are more often debated in journals dedicated to disability
studies, transportation geography or transport policy. There, discussions often focus on broader topics surrounding disability
and social exclusion through inaccessibility to transport and the negative impacts of this exclusion (Bates and Davis (2004);
Church et al., 2000; Preston & Rajé, 2007).1 In contributing to this special edition on Innovative Strategies for Healthy Transporta-
tion Outcomes, this paper therefore aims to highlight more specific issues faced by a particular demographic (wheelchair users),
bringing their experiences at the forefront. In so doing, it addresses the various barriers faced by these passengers while also
qualitatively discussing the impact of transport on health and inclusion.
This article therefore engages with questions of transport access and disability from an innovative perspective, providing
a deeper understanding of how (lack of) access to transport affects the lives of wheelchair users. Firstly, this article will
describe results of in-depth qualitative research, where a series of barriers are identified by interviewees in conversations
about their daily journeys using public transport. The article then discusses the impact of these barriers as not only being
issues of access, but also one of significant influence on personal lives (including resulting in negative feelings such as anx-
iety, anger, and frustration). Tactics developed by wheelchair users in attempts to overcome obstacles to access in the trans-
port network are then described. Secondly, in the Discussion section, we consider how the transport network impacts the
lives of wheelchair users, resulting in potential social isolation. The question is then turned around to interrogate how wheel-
chair users who choose to use public transport may have impact on the infrastructure themselves through the development
of problem-solving tactics.

2. Methods

Much like logistics research, transport studies have often been populated by quantitative methods (Mangan et al., 2004).
This is particularly the case in research where the material infrastructure of transport (e.g. the asphalt or concrete on the
roads, the trains, new information data software) is under scrutiny. However, given the complexity of this paper’s guiding
question and its concern for passengers’ experiences of public transport (and how they use it), such a functionalist research
paradigm would not suffice. In this paper, a qualitative analysis of empirical data provides the framework to understand
choices made by passengers, but also to move beyond that––to learn about their experiences with public transport and their
coping mechanisms to deal with barriers.
It may be an unusual method for a journal such as International Journal of Transport Science and Technology. However, it
has been argued many times that transport studies would merit from a widening participation of qualitative studies schol-
ars, including (but not limited to) sociologists, psychologists, anthropologists, and historians. Indeed, qualitative research
allows for the inclusion of the language used by the passengers of public transport themselves, work which can often guide
further quantitative work (Grosvenor, 2000). This is in line with other methodological research that argues that multidisci-
plinary endeavors allow for richer results (Larivière et al., 2015), particularly in a field as complex as the one that deals with

1
Although, of course, it is also addressed in other journals––often Transport Policy (see, for example, Hine & Grieco, 2003; Lucas, 2012). It is a topic almost
completely absent, however, from this very journal, IJTST, with the one notable exception being Apardian & Alan (2015).
 R. Velho / International Journal of Transportation Science and Technology 8 (2019) 103–115 105

mobility and transport planning more broadly (Ferreira et al., 2013; Mangan et al., 2004). Furthermore, questions such as the
ones being discussed in this paper (travel behavior and impact of transport accessibility on disabled people’s lives) are dee-
ply embedded in emotions and personal choice. As Grosvenor points out, transport choices are often guided by a wish to avoid
negative emotions (i.e. stress, anxiety, uncertainty; see also Beirão and Sarsfield Cabral, 2007; Clifton and Handy, 2003). Yet,
as will be discussed below, current accessibility provisions in London do not allow this avoidance for wheelchair-using pas-
sengers. Given the need to understand personal narratives of public transport, qualitative analysis provided the methodolog-
ical richness required to ‘‘understand phenomena which are innately intricate” (Lewis and Richie, 2003, p. 45) while studying
people’s lives in real-world conditions with the goal to represent their views and experiences (Yin, 2015, p. 8). As this work
focuses on how these passengers make their way around the system, interviews with wheelchair users were chosen to be the
primary source of data, with participant-observation and documentary data being used as additional empirical sources.
A total of thirty-four semi-structured interviews were done, that is to say that they aimed to cover the same topics but not
constrain interviewees’ personal narratives of public transport. Of these thirty-four interviews, twenty-seven were done
with wheelchair users; the other seven were partners or carers, or non-disabled individuals involved in the world of trans-
port (as policy-makers or in industry). There were a variety of wheelchair users in terms of gender (see Table 1) and age (see
Table 2) as well as types of wheelchair used and types of impairment (too broad a variety to detail in a single table, but if
readers are welcome to contact the author for detailed breakdown). However, it quickly became clear that the narratives
expressed and barriers encountered were similar despite these differences. These interviews were recorded and transcribed
in their entirety and have been anonymized with a pseudonym of the interviewees’ choice (some chose to waive anonymity).
Three observation opportunities were used: the first at a ‘Disability Roadshow’ organized in a London transport service
providers’ garage, where three disability charities came to discuss accessibility requirements with bus drivers. The second
was an afternoon spent traveling with an interviewee named Alan, using a diversity of transport modes and discussing
his choices throughout the trip. The last was a ‘‘wheelchair skills training course” where wheelchair users are taught tricks
in using their wheelchair (such as dropping down a curb or over a gap). The data produced in interviews and observations
totaled over 284,000 words for analysis. Fieldwork occurred over a period of six months in the second half of 2015.
It is worth noting here one of the differences between quantitative and qualitative methods, particularly for those readers
who may be unfamiliar with the latter. Whereas in quantitative research, where polling samples can easily reach numbers in
the hundreds or even thousands with attempts to ensure demographic representation, qualitative research is focused on the
depth and detail of information acquired. In this context, thirty-four interviewees combined with the three observations were
deemed sufficient to reach what is called a ‘saturation’ point, in other words, when data being collected become repetitive
and ‘‘no new information or themes are observed” (Guest et al., 2006).
Data analysis was undertaken by using the qualitative data analysis (QDA) software NVivo, done in two ‘‘waves”. The first
wave consisted of a ‘‘grounded” approach, wherein no hypothesis was assumed while doing a close-reading of the data. This
permitted the identification of themes throughout the corpus. The second wave looked for intersections between these
themes to identify broader narratives on how wheelchair users use, subvert and shape public transport, and the impact
the latter has on their lives.
The next section discusses the empirical findings from the data produced collected and analyzed.

3. Results

3.1. The many barriers to transport

It quickly became clear in interviews with wheelchair users that, despite the accessibility provisions made by Transport
for London, this demographic of passengers is still encountering a diversity of barriers throughout their journeys in the net-
work. These barriers were often distinguished into two categories, as illustrated by this interviewee:

Table 1
Gender breakdown of interviewees.

Gender Interviewees Interviewees

(wheelchair users) (non-wheelchair users)
Woman 15 2
Man 11 5
Other (gender-fluid) 1

Table 2
Age breakdown of interviewees.

Age Interviewees (wheelchair users) Interviewees (non-wheelchair users)

18–30 7 0
31–45 11 5
46–60 8 2
60+ 1 0
106 R. Velho / International Journal of Transportation Science and Technology 8 (2019) 103–115

Are we talking about the physical barriers to accessible transport? Are we talking about attitudinal barriers? (Marie)
Interestingly, the distinction of categories in accordance to different modes and locations of travel was not of significant
analytical relevance as many of these barriers were encountered in all modes of transport (e.g. problems with ramps on both
buses and trains, problems with staff either as drivers or station employees). Furthermore, the categories chosen here are
also meant to reflect how wheelchair users may use more than a single mode of transport in a journey. The distinction
between ‘‘physical” barriers on the one hand, and ‘‘social attitudes” on the other featured more prominently in interviews
as the primary categories and will therefore be discussed in turn.

3.1.1. Physical barriers – From buzzers to ramps

Wheelchair users who use public transport in London discuss a variety of physical barriers encountered while traveling,
such as the layout of the interior of the bus all the way or broken elevators. All twenty-seven wheelchair-using interviewees
discussed barriers of this nature, with no exceptions. Interestingly, this frustration is more often turned towards stations that
should be accessible (or are at least listed as such) rather than as a blanket statement about the state of the network as a
whole. In other words, while interviewees’ often discussed dissatisfaction at the state of accessibility in the system (such
as how little accessible stations there are, or the slow progression of making more stations accessible), they often alluded
to anger, anxiety or frustration towards parts of the network that are generally discussed as accessible but are not so in
practice.
Buses, for example, are described by Transport for London as being accessible: in theory, they should be. With the excep-
tion of the Heritage Route, all buses in London are low-floor and have a mechanized ramp that does not require the driver to
leave their seat for deployment. In practice, however, these are some experiences as discussed by interviewees:
[The driver had] asked me where I wanted to stop and he remembered so we stopped at the right place, we got the ramp out, but
the door wouldn’t open, so it took about four or five attempts. (Sophie)
Sometimes the ramps don’t come out, some technical difficulties, and some drivers will just say, ‘‘Sorry, it’s not working.” (Linda)
It shouldn’t be like that; the bus should be working, and there are so many buses like that in service. I’ve been to so many bus
depots because the ramps were broken and I can’t get off. (Adam)
The reliability of technologies designed to enable wheelchair users therefore becomes a source of anxiety itself. To a lesser
extent, the same comments were made about elevators at Underground stations listed as accessible:
[Y]ou go on the TfL website, you find out that it’s wheelchair accessible from platform to street, and then you get there and find
out that the lift’s not working. (Marie)
Interviewees also discussed the layout within train carriages and buses. Most often discussed was the lack of space inside
London buses as well as the requirement to be placed facing the opposite direction of travel:
You have to go backwards [on the bus]. You have to go backwards according to the law, so the pole makes it really hard because
it’s there and you’re trying to go into this space here. (Alanni)
Here, Alanni is referring to support poles on the lower deck of London buses: these are used both for structure (to support
the upper deck) as well as safety for wheelchair users and other passengers alike. Unlike buses in New York City, for example,
London buses do not have seatbelt to secure wheelchair users in place. As such, these poles in part do the work of a seatbelt,
as well as providing a stabilizing point for those passengers who are riding standing up. Nevertheless, the design of the lower
deck provides space for a single wheelchair user, a contentious topic that was brought up by many interviewees:
[T]he bus is quite limited to only one wheelchair. Now if I want to go out with a friend who’s also a wheelchair user, or even my
sister [...], it’s very difficult that we both use the same bus. (Um Hayaa)
Another technical concern raised by interviewees related to the human-dependent nature of ramps at some Underground
and Overground stations throughout the network, called ‘‘manual boarding ramps”. At these stations, wheelchair users must
approach station staff to request the deployment of ramps to board the bus. If the station where the passenger intends to
alight also requires a manual boarding ramp, the staff member is required to phone ahead to ensure that someone will
deploy the ramp at the final destination. Sure enough, this human-dependency of a technical solution can cause problems
of its own, from miscommunications. . .:
Here, to get a member of staff to operate a ramp, you need to make sure the person is, gets on, finds the right person, the person
meets the right train, and is at the right door. It doesn’t matter how well you train staff, you put a human being into the equation
and it always raises the area where it can go wrong. (Robert)
. . .to potential injury. . .:
I had an experience where the guy with the ramp wasn’t there and I attempted to disembark the train and the front caster wheel
got stuck in the gap [...] it was kind of a case of, you know, I hope the guy doesn’t just drive off. [...] I wasn’t injured but it was... it
didn’t give me a lot of confidence if something like that happens and you do fear that you can have a nasty accident as well.
(Carl)
 R. Velho / International Journal of Transportation Science and Technology 8 (2019) 103–115 107

. . .to actual injuries:

I was tipped off the [train] carriage – putting the ramp on, they panicked. There’s two wheelchairs getting on, we’ll put one over
there and we’ll put you over here, and [they] rushed it, tipped me off, broke my collar bone. And then they just threw me on the
train because they all panicked, and I’m dazed, stunned and dazed, literally they just literally pushed me on. (Adam)
In addition, the unpleasantness of buzzers and noises was also pointed out by at least three interviewees who described
‘‘sirens” as being a marker of shame:
[Imitates alarm noise] And everyone looks, everyone stares, and I’m like, yeah, I’m just getting on the bus. (Alex Lyons)
This remark was particularly interesting given the use of the alarm as a signifier to other passengers as well as pedestrians
that the ramp on the bus is being deployed and to please make way. It is an example of a design feature with good intentions
but with unintended consequences regarding the level of anxiety and discomfort generated in wheelchair-using passengers.
Furthermore, silence can also be disconcerting for these passengers:
With the internal bell [...] when I push the blue button, there is no audio indication that I can hear unless I’m listening very
intently or I can just about hear a buzz. There’s no indication on my end that that’s gone through. (Char Aznable)
Char Aznable is referring here to the blue ‘‘Request Stop” button that specifically signals to bus drivers that the wheelchair
user intends to disembark at the next stop and for the ramp to be deployed. On London buses, wheelchair users are located
behind the stairwell and making eye contact with the driver would be extremely difficult. Hence why Char Aznable as well as
other interviewees referred to their anxiety as not knowing whether their specific request has been acknowledged. This par-
ticular fear is intimately linked with many interviewees’ experiences with bus drivers themselves, often described as ‘‘atti-
tudinal” barriers to transport.

3.1.2. Social barriers – The buggy wars

Kerstin, one of my interviewees, discussed priority debates in London transport with a light touch:
That is a massive issue with the buggy war [laughs] as I call it in London. (Kerstin)
The ‘‘buggy wars”, as Kerstin calls it, is a highly public debate concerning priority access to the space onboard the bus. The
conflict most often arises between wheelchair users and parents with push chairs. The question is what type of policy should
be applied to this space: ‘‘first come, first served” or should wheelchair users always have priority? Enforcing the latter
would mean that the space should be vacated if required: large bags or luggage need to be placed elsewhere and push chairs
should be folded up. There are no exceptions among the interviewees: every single one (wheelchair users or not) mentioned
this issue and referred to it as one of the most prominent barriers to public transport. To wheelchair users, the debate seems
perfectly clear–– it comes down to choice:
Not saying a pram should be excluded, I’m just saying that somebody in a wheelchair they have no option but to sit in a wheel-
chair whereas a baby in a pram can be carried, can be lifted, can close the buggy. (Linda)
Others have phrased similar feelings: the space onboard buses should belong to wheelchair users because there is no
other place for a wheelchair user to be on a bus. Another argument often made discussed the origin of the space, or why
it exists in the first place:
In the old days, when all buses were old Routemasters, you didn’t take a buggy on the bus. So, you had a small pushchair and you
would fold it and put it in the luggage hold and take your baby like that. And that was accepted as the only possible way to travel
by bus with a baby and a buggy. Then wheelchair users started campaigning for a wheelchair space and the wheelchair spaces
were implemented, and that dragged in its wake the possibility of bigger and bigger buggies to use that space. (Anton)
Anton is referring here to particular campaigns in the early 1990s called Campaign for Accessible Transport (CAT) in Lon-
don, led by disability rights groups such as the Disability Action Network (DAN). He is not wrong: at that time, Routemasters
were the norm and they were completely inaccessible due to the three steps required to board the elevated chassis. Demand-
ing accessibility provisions, disabled people including wheelchair users locked themselves to these buses using handcuffs
and padlocks (Parker, 1995). These groups and campaigns, it is argued in other research, were some of the primary factors
in a series of disability access improvements that followed in the late 1990s, including the introduction of the Disability Dis-
crimination Act 1995, that has since been superseded by the Equality Act 2010 (Marks, 2014; Shakespeare, 1993; Slorach,
2014). Others who rationalize the debate in similar terms as Anton see the space as a right acquired through political acti-
vism and should therefore be theirs given the history.
Though this theme was largely expected in interviews, the prominence with which it surfaced unprompted was surpris-
ing. In many cases, the topic occupied many minutes, sometimes becoming the main topic of conversation for the majority of
the interview. These are some other examples of how wheelchair users described their experiences of the ‘‘buggy wars”:
I’ve been assaulted for not getting out of the wheelchair space to let someone with a buggy in. [...] I’ve had to listen to abuse, I’ve
had to let several buses go because there was a buggy or luggage in the wheelchair space and the bus driver didn’t feel able to
ask those passengers to move out of the way. (Faith)
108 R. Velho / International Journal of Transportation Science and Technology 8 (2019) 103–115

I’ve had a lot of problems when there’s already someone using a pushchair on the bus because invariably, almost invariably, the
driver is reluctant to enforce the rule whereby the buggy should be folded up to let the wheelchair user on. I’m aware that this
went to court recently. (Chiara)

The court case that Chiara mentions was a five-year legal battle, often referred to by interviewees as ‘‘the Doug Paulley
case” or the ‘‘wheelchair v buggy case”. It has occupied some space in the British media limelight, having finally come to a
conclusion with a Supreme Court ruling in January 2017 (Coleman, 2016; ‘‘Supreme Court hears wheelchair user Paulley’s
landmark appeal against bus company,” 2016). In brief, the case involved Doug Paulley, a wheelchair user in Yorkshire
(Northern England) who was denied access to a bus in February 2012 because a mother with a push chair was occupying
the space. The bus driver requested for her to move but she refused to do so. Arguing that this went against the British Equal-
ity Act 2010 in terms of accessibility provisions for disabled people, Paulley sued the bus operator, First Group, and won the
first instance in 2013. First Group appealed and won in the Court of Appeals in 2014. In 2016, however, Paulley was granted
the right to appeal––the Equality and Human Rights Commission took his case to the Supreme Court of the United Kingdom.
The final judgement, which found mostly in Paulley’s favor, technically ruled against the policy of ‘‘first come, first served”,
stating that it is the responsibility of drivers to ‘‘pressurize the non-wheelchair user to vacate the space, depending on the
circumstances” (”FirstGroup Plc v Paulley,‘‘ 2017).
Paulley himself was pleased with the conclusions of the Supreme Court (D. Paulley, 2017). However, the hope was that
the ruling would provide some sort of definitive statement:
Hopefully it will bring a bit of clarity and I hope the outcome would be that the guy in the wheelchair wins because at the end of
the day, the mums with prams can fold the prams down, there’s other ways of traveling easily if you have a pram. (Linda)

Nevertheless, it is arguable that the tension has not necessarily been diffused but rather that responsibilities have been
piled onto drivers who are, themselves, the source of anxiety for wheelchair users throughout their journeys2. In the buggy
debates, drivers are often described as the first (and sometimes only) obstacle to access:
But occasionally it’s the bus driver who doesn’t even give me the chance to negotiate with the parent in the space, they just say,
‘‘No, there’s somebody in the space. You can’t get on, you’ll have to take the next one.” My favorite phrase. (Sophie)
[The driver] either stops and looks and then plays the automated announcement that says the wheelchair bay is needed or he
shakes his head and makes some kind of gesture with his fingers to say, ‘‘No, can’t get on, I’ve got buggies onboard.” Or they’ll
just completely drive past you[.] (Marie)

As literal ‘‘gatekeepers” of access onto a mode of transport, drivers hold power over wheelchair users. Many other inter-
viewees said that they have had drivers simply not stop for them to board a bus, and others mentioned instances when dri-
vers have not deployed the ramp for them to disembark, despite having pressed the ‘‘Stop Request” button:
And then there’s the bus driver doesn’t actually acknowledge you and put the ramp out. (Alice)
I’ve had buses drive past me without even stopping, you know, and I’ve been sent to the end of the route occasionally because
they’ve forgotten I’m actually on the bus. (Michael J.)

Many interviewees agreed that part of the difficulties they face with drivers may be due to a lack of awareness, or lack of
training regarding the accessibility needs of wheelchair users. In some cases, interviewees even alluded to emotions such as
compassion:
So, I think training is important. Human nature, you know, sometimes people forget the sense of humanity. To show a sense of
kindness or courtesy doesn’t need training, to be honest, it doesn’t need training, It starts with how you are being brought up in
your own home, at school, but also within the human nature, so everyone can be good, can be bad. It doesn’t need training, but I
think because of the number of drivers who can be difficult, I think training is important, it’s vital. (Um Hayaa)

This section aimed to highlight some of the social barriers faced by wheelchair users while navigating the transport sys-
tem. They are often aware of priority debates surrounding the ‘‘wheelchair priority area”, as it is officially called in the Trans-
port for London’s drivers’ handbook, the Big Red Book (TfL, 2014), and they are often anxious about how their presence will
be perceived by other passengers on the bus. Bus drivers are also a potential barrier to access as some experiences discussed
by wheelchair users demonstrate some unreliability in terms of behavior. This adds to the stress felt by wheelchair users
while planning and executing their travels on public transport.

3.1.3. Accessibility as a cumulative problem

Throughout our interviews, wheelchair users discussed a variety of problems that they encountered while traveling in the
transport network in London, including the many topics discussed above. However, what soon became clear is not only the
diversity of barriers, but how they often came together and occurred simultaneously. In other words, these barriers were not
just being encountered occasionally: they were being encountered often and even consecutively:

2
It should be noted that the many anxieties of working as a bus driver should likely also be researched and that is a recommendation for future work. Indeed,
it is likely the case that this court ruling creates additional pressures onto an already demanding and stressful job.
 R. Velho / International Journal of Transportation Science and Technology 8 (2019) 103–115 109

However, sometimes it happens that I wait for four or five buses because either pushchairs or the attitude of the driver or the
ramp is broken or the driver himself doesn’t know how to operate the ramp. So, there is a full range of different obstacles. (Um
Hayaa)
I once had to wait 45 minutes at the bus stop because every single bus that came had two buggies in the wheelchair space and
the driver was either unwilling to ask them to move or the passenger refused to move. (Diana)
I’ll spend an hour trying to get somewhere that should only take me ten minutes [...] after the third or fourth bus, or the second
or third train, or whatever, and not being able to do what I need to do or what I want to do, it can be absolutely soul-destroying.
(Michael J.)
These are just some of the quotes in which interviewees all pointed towards the same theme; when taken separately, all
of the barriers discussed in the previous sections can be seen as tiny events. However, combined, these barriers constitute a
much bigger problem that requires wheelchair users to embed into their traveling plans a time buffer to allow for all possible
contingencies. Alone, these barriers may seem small. Together, they can seem an insurmountable problem for some wheel-
chair users.3

3.2. Negative emotions in public transport

One of the strengths of qualitative research is its ability to go into depth in discussions of personal experiences and, par-
ticularly, ask research participants to recall their emotions and feelings of events. In our conversations about public trans-
port, wheelchair users spoke about their feelings while traveling, often without any prompting at all. This section will outline
some of the emotions wheelchair users described feeling while using public transit in London, and as will soon become clear,
they are negative ones for the most part.
Positive feelings, such as happiness or comfort were not often used in conversations, unless it was to discuss their feelings
towards new policies or infrastructure.
But it made me very happy when they put the humps in, slightly more consistent then people having to turn up [with manual
boarding ramps]. (Diana)
Alternatively, happy was used as a manner of expressing willingness to do something rather than a feeling of content:
I always do it if there’s nobody else in the space, but if there’s somebody else in the space, I’m happy to maneuver in whatever
position is easiest to share. (Alice)
And virtually all instances of the word comfort as it related to their personal feelings was often preceded by a negation.
The same happened for the word pleasant.
[S]ometimes drivers the ways they drive can be a bit rough so sometimes the balance of the wheelchair user or the wheelchair
user is not comfortable. (Um Hayaa)
Interviewees often referred to stress and anxiety related to public transit. Of twenty-seven wheelchair users interviewed,
eleven used at least one of these words to describe an experience of traveling. For example:
But there’s always, always, anxiousness that the ramp isn’t going to work, that there’s going to already be someone in the wheel-
chair space, a buggy in the wheelchair space. (Faith)
Similarly, but perhaps more related to their specific expectations of how the system should work as opposed to how it
operates in reality, interviewees used words related to frustration and annoyance. Ten informants used both of these words,
at times in quick succession. Marie, for example, works at a bus company as the ‘‘disability coordinator” and has insider
knowledge as to how the network works:
I work in a bus company, it’s not always right for me so what does the average person who doesn’t realize what the process and
procedures are is thinking about it? It’s frustrating, it’s annoying. (Marie)
Descriptions of anger, interestingly, were very rarely used by informants to describe their own emotions (only two inter-
viewees used the word in relation to transit experience, of which one used it multiple times). Rather, anger was marginally
more often used as a descriptive of other passengers on the bus and their reactions towards wheelchair users (six intervie-
wees did this):
It’s often very difficult to get into the Tube when you are a wheelchair user because you need more space, then people get angry
with you because you take so much space, and then things go wrong. (Kerstin)

3
It should be noted here that this research focused and interviewed wheelchair users who use public transport. It can be an additional branch of research to
find wheelchair users who do not do so, and ask whether this may be a factor in their choice.
110 R. Velho / International Journal of Transportation Science and Technology 8 (2019) 103–115

Particularly negative descriptions of emotion such as heartbreak were also used in many instances. One instance was
shown above, when Michael J. described not being able to do what he wants to do due to poor access as soul-destroying.
Others alluded to depression, misery, feeling worthless. Um Hayaa’s description of the impact poor access has on her is par-
ticularly poignant:
When each driver is telling me no, wait for the other bus, and each bus comes with overcrowded passengers with three or four
ramps, it can probably leave like a crack in the heart of the disabled person. (Um Hayaa)
One last emotion that merits being highlighted is confidence, courage or bravery (or lack thereof) in order to use public
transit. While all passengers of public transit likely require some level of competence in order to discern how the system
works, the manner wheelchair users described the need for self-confidence to travel points to a more deep-seated feeling
rather than basic reading and interpretation skills. Kerstin describes this vividly:
You must be very self-confident, you’re not allowed to be scared or whatever, you must be very confident in finding your way
and if anything goes wrong, that you trust that Transport for London will at the end sort it out, which if you have any bad expe-
rience before is a bit difficult because you must trust an organization which let you down so often [laughs]. (Kerstin)
She is not alone. The majority of wheelchair-using interviewees used confidence (and its inflections), citing it as a require-
ment to use public transport. They either used it to describe themselves (i.e. I am (not) confident enough to do something)
and linked that to something that enabled them to use transport, or it was used as a general statement as something that is
required in order to use transport, such as Kerstin did.
Overall, the emotions and feelings described by wheelchair users in relation to public transit access in London were neg-
ative ones. They have pointed towards frustrations, anxieties, even feelings of worthlessness and heartbreak at the level of
access provided by the English capital. This negativity and the need for confidence will be discussed in Section 4.1 as large
factors in the social exclusion and isolation of wheelchair users.

3.3. Problem-solving in the transport system

The wheelchair users interviewed for this research were all, to some extent, users of public transport in London. As was
pointed out in the previous section, many of them expressed the need for confidence in order to use public transit as a wheel-
chair user and they often described themselves as confident themselves to some extent. One interesting result from this qual-
itative research was the theme of problem-solving, or the ways that wheelchair users find of getting around barriers that they
inadvertently face while using public transit.
One example of ad-hoc problem-solving is simply ignoring prescribed transport conventions. In Section 3.1.1, the physical
layout of buses was discussed as a barrier to transit in the ways that it is both small and requires wheelchair users to face the
opposite direction of travel. According to the Big Red Book, the bus drivers’ handbook, wheelchair users are required to travel
in the wheelchair priority area and drivers should ‘‘make sure they have their back to the backrest and their brakes are
applied or motor disengaged if they have one” (TfL, 2014, p. 69). Some interviewees, however, have described simply ignor-
ing those rules:
I suffer sometimes with travel sickness and so I find it easier sometimes to sit the opposite way to how you’re supposed to sit in
the wheelchair space [...] and I fully admit and I probably shouldn’t admit that but I do, because I can sometimes get travel sick,
so basically, it’s easier for me. (Michael J.)
Other wheelchair users described similarly not traveling within the prescribed space. Alice, for example, said she would
not often park with her back to the backrest, particularly in order to facilitate sharing the wheelchair area with other users to
appease possible tensions:
[I]f there’s somebody else in the space, I’m happy to maneuver in whatever position is easiest to share. (Alice)
Char Aznable, who describes himself as an ‘‘aggressive” wheelchair user, takes things one step further:
I can ride escalators. [...] All you do is get yourself lined up in the center, you grab the handrails, you wait for the step in front of
you to go up, and then you pull yourself in and you hold steady. (Char Aznable)
Whether this is within Transport for London policies is not clear, as there are no signs specifically proscribing the use of
wheelchairs on the escalator (though there are signs prohibiting dogs [they need to be carried] and smoking, for example).
Furthermore, despite being an outlier in regard to this skill (as it requires enough capabilities, and confidence, to do this),
Char Aznable was not the only person who mentioned riding escalators as a skill. While observing the wheelchair skills train-
ing course hosted by a disability organization, an instructor discussed with one of the other trainers the possibility of devel-
oping an ‘‘escalator card” to be used in public transport. The following is an extract of the observation notes:
[The trainer] said she was talking to someone on TfL about possibly developing a new ‘escalator card’ for wheelchair users,
through which they would demonstrate they are able to take the escalators (which T. is able to, for example, by grabbing
the handrail) and they would receive this card. By doing so, the staff at Underground stations would allow [card holders] to
use stations which do not have lifts but do have escalators. [Observation notes]
 R. Velho / International Journal of Transportation Science and Technology 8 (2019) 103–115 111

At a less extreme level, other types of wheelchair skills are often deployed on public transport when things go wrong––
primarily staff members do not show up with the manual boarding ramp for them to disembark at their destination:
So, you know, jumping a wheelchair across a gap is just something I’ve taught myself over the years. (D.)

Alternatively, some wheelchair users who have limited walking capability, or enough muscle to get themselves out of and
back into their wheelchair, will also resort to getting out of their wheelchairs to disembark:
I mean, situations like that, I block the door, I throw myself onto the platform, and I drag my wheelchair. Otherwise, I’m looking
at faffing around for somebody to get a ramp and try and get a ramp on there, and then to come onto the carriage and push me
off. (Adam)
Well, see, I’m fine. I can jump off if I have to, I can get out of my chair on the floor... (Aimee)

It should be noted that these problem-solving tactics related to wheelchair skills are highly personal and dependent on
individual bodily abilities. These tricks demonstrate ingenuity on the part of the users themselves and while it means that
they make their individual experience more accessible, it does not mean that other wheelchair users will be able to resort to
the same tricks:
It’s like that, making do and getting on with it. Someone like me will be able to do that but other wheelchair users won’t be able
to do because they can’t get out of their chairs without help. (Alex Lyons)

Other interviewees discussed having developed ‘‘tool-kits” that they can resort to using in case something goes wrong
during their journey:
[A]ll of the ramps on the network are secured in holders and to get access to those, you need a thing called a T- Key which is just
a square spanner, really. So, we’ve got one of those because the number of times that you go places and people say, ‘‘I’ve lost it, I
can’t find it,” [...] So we carry around, and it costs 3 quid from eBay, you can just say, ‘‘There you go, we’ve got ours.” (Alan)
I carry a screwdriver around because they lose their screwdrivers, then they use that as excuse for not getting in the cab, so we
say, ‘‘It’s fine, we’ve got a screwdriver.” (Alice)

A couple of interviewees also carry portable ramps on the back of their wheelchairs:
I’ve been out and bought a two-foot ramp so I’m going to have a ramp on my wheelchair. If I do get somewhere and I need help, I
can just have somebody to hold the ends while I get up. (Marie)

During an observation session of traveling with an interviewee, Alan, his partner deployed their personal portable ramp.
The following is an extract from the observation notes:
Y. stood up and started getting ready by taking the ramp from the back of the chair and opening it. Once the doors opened, she
hopped out and hastily placed it in position, and A. disembarked. When the buzzer went off signaling that the doors were closing,
the ramp was still on the door, which meant that the doors closed over it. Y. tugged hard at it for it to come loose. [Observation
notes]

The ad-hoc nature of these personal ramps means that they can be more readily deployed by partners. However, once
again, it is not clear in Transport for London policy whether they are permitted. While useful, they also cause some uncer-
tainty as to how their interaction with the transport network can impact on the infrastructure, as can be seen in how the
doors will close over them which could lead to damage. This is further discussed in Section 4.2 where questions of appro-
priateness of these problem-solving tactics are addressed.
In this section, some of the problem-solving techniques developed by wheelchair users in response to the barriers they
encounter while traveling in London’s public transit system were discussed. Some wheelchair users resort to personal wheel-
chair skills by hopping over gaps or even using escalators. They have also signaled their use of ‘‘tool-kits” to ensure that exist-
ing accessibility features can be used (such as ramps that are locked in place) or they create additional accessibility by using
their own ramps. In the next section, the impact of accessibility barriers will be discussed, particularly in terms of social iso-
lation and its consequences, followed by considerations of what impact these techniques might have in the accessibility
debate.

4. Discussion

4.1. Inaccessibility and social isolation

It became increasingly clear throughout conversations with wheelchair users that their experiences with barriers in pub-
lic transport has a direct consequence on their attempts to leave the home. In other words, their perception of the transport
system being inaccessible to them may lead to two reactions: the wheelchair user may resort to alternative modes of trans-
port (such as taxis or personal vehicles and, as Jolly and co-authors point out, taxi usage is already much higher among dis-
abled passengers [Jolly et al., 2006]) or they may isolate themselves and prefer not to leave the home:
112 R. Velho / International Journal of Transportation Science and Technology 8 (2019) 103–115

[Y]ou have to have enough money [so] that you can get taxis everywhere. Disability is a luxury that not many people can afford,
and that’s the problem. (Sophie)

So even in the case of taxis, the question of economic access arises as well, though they can cause material access issues of
their own:
I’ve tried to use taxis once. I don’t bother anymore because if you’re in wheelchair you cannot hail one. Actually, the one time I
used one, I had to hide behind a planter to get my friend to flag them down, and then reappear. (Char Aznable)

Other interviewees also mentioned the ‘‘hit-and-miss” character of using taxis as an alternative, door-to-door mode of
transport. However, the main concern that arose from the use of taxis is the price.
We would rather get buses instead of taxis, but sometimes it’s the only choice we’ve got and it’s a drain on the finances. The
minimum price for a taxi journey is what? £5-6 one way so then coming back again, that’s a tenner at least on a half-mile jour-
ney. Absurd. (Leda)

Nevertheless, perhaps due to fear of barriers to their journey or using it as a ‘‘last resort” (Adam), disabled people gen-
erally use taxis more than non-disabled people in the UK. In the National Travel Survey (2002–2004), quantitative data
pointed to disabled people being twice as likely as non-disabled people to use taxi or minicab services two or three times
a week. Particularly informative is that people of lower annual income brackets ($P 5999–10,000) were among those most
likely to use this form of transport, despite the financial burden. This can arguably be explained by their lack of access to a
personal vehicle. Among my interviewees, three wheelchair users mentioned the use of a private personalized car:
If I use an adapted vehicle, it’s much better, much easier, than being pressured to wait in the cold at the bus stop hoping that the
first bus will accommodate my needs. (Um Hayaa)

Basil and Sophie also discussed their choices of acquiring an adapted private vehicle that they can use. However, they
both discussed the additional financial burdens that this choice placed on them. Sophie, for example, framed her car as a
luxury and placed it within a broader discussion of the price of accessing assistive technologies:
Disability is a luxury that not many people can afford, and that’s the problem. People don’t realize how expensive everything
gets. Either how isolated life is if you don’t have the money and/or the equipment, which, equipment means money. And that’s
why people are so scared of disability. (Sophie)

Disabled people in the United Kingdom are more likely to be below the poverty line (ref). Hence, access to a private vehi-
cle is more difficult and disabled people are more dependent on public transport than non-disabled people––statistics point
to 32% of disabled people seeing transport as essential, with half of those respondents defining themselves as ‘‘completely
dependent” on public transport (Jolly et al., 2006). This is a key aspect of our discussions of the impact of inaccessibility in the
lives of disabled people: dependency on public transport combined with the number of barriers to this transport can lead to
social isolation. Social isolation is, however, more difficult to quantify, though we can point to the British Crime Survey
(2004–2005) that found that 25.5% of disabled people do not go out, compared to 1.5% of non-disabled people (cited in
Jolly et al., 2006). Yet it is not only a question of ‘‘not going out”: it is also a question of quality of life––from accessing doctors
and being on time to hospital appointments to leaving the home and having an active social life.
This feeling of isolation and even social exclusion was deeply felt by interviewees:
It’s not worth the hassle, and so again, it puts you off wanting to travel. It isolates you even more because your world is getting
smaller, and smaller, and smaller, all the time, you’re looking for more and more things that you can do as close to home as
possible so that you don’t have to travel as far, or you don’t have to make the transfer, or you don’t have to use the transport
system at all. And then you end up being very isolated. (Marie)

[T]hat’s not a way to get disabled people to go out, because if I stay at home, what am I learning? I’m not learning anything. I
just eat and sleep and just read. Ok, fine, I read but I need to go out, I need to mingle with people, use skills, learn more skills. All
those things are very vital for everyone. (Marie Claire)

I mean, I’m sure you know, getting out and about changes people’s lives, and it makes things... being social makes you much
more alive, much healthier, and public transport is really good for that if you’ve got that option, that experience to try. (Alan)

It becomes of the utmost importance to remind ourselves that the improvement of accessibility provisions is therefore
not only of concern as a tick-box experiment regarding policy and legislative requirements. Improving public transport
for disabled people, such as the wheelchair users interviewed for this research, means a significant improvement in their
quality of life, including their life opportunities. As Farrington discusses, accessibility is as much about people as it is about
access to places (Farrington, 2007). We therefore need to ensure that our accessibility policies reflect the importance of pub-
lic transport in terms of access for people of a diversity of physical requirements to places that provide nurture for all aspects
of life, including work, education, health services and social opportunities.
 R. Velho / International Journal of Transportation Science and Technology 8 (2019) 103–115 113

4.2. The problems with ‘‘problem-solving”

Among the surprising results from this qualitative research was the frequency with which problems were occurring in the
public transit system, even in spaces deemed as ‘‘accessible” (such as buses that are technically accessible but due to broken
ramps and priority debates end up creating other problems themselves). As such, the creativity and problem-solving tech-
niques developed by wheelchair users interviewed here were a fascinating insight into the ways in which they tackle barriers
while traveling. However, it also quickly became clear that these techniques could prove problematic in a variety of ways.
First and foremost, the ad-hoc nature with which they are carried out can cause potential damage to the wheelchair user
– either to themselves, or to their wheelchair itself (which many described as being an extension of their bodies). Carl, for
example, described getting his casters stuck and D. discussed his constant fear of a tire bursting as he ‘‘bunny-hopped” over a
gap. Similarly, when getting help from other users on the train to disembark, as Basil had to resort to in one situation, could
lead to similar bodily harm to all parties involved:
I’ve had the same experience with what we were just talking about, being put on the train in Central London and not knowing
that someone’s going to be there to get me off the other end. At worse, ended up with a couple of drunk football supporters lit-
erally picking the wheelchair up and carrying it back onto the platform. [...] (Basil)

If anything had happened to Basil in this situation, his recovery could have taken a significantly longer time given his con-
dition. Furthermore, it extends questions of agency and responsibility: if other members of the public become injured whilst
helping a wheelchair user in a situation where staff should have been present (but were not), is the transport service pro-
vider opening itself up to potential litigation?
These problem-solving techniques also open further questions about what is or is not allowed on public transport. As dis-
cussed in Section 3.3, some wheelchair users have the skills and ability to allow them to use escalators––a technique that
opens up a variety of stations for their use. However, it is unclear whether this is allowed, as no specific provisions prohibit
wheelchair usage yet station staff would be justifiably uneasy about allowing wheelchair users on escalators. This is partic-
ularly true given the possibility for something to go wrong: slipping, a wheel sliding off, and potential bodily harm to both
wheelchair user and other passengers using the escalator at that time.
Similar questions of acceptability are raised with the use of portable ramps: this tool opens up a variety of other stations
to wheelchair users, particularly ones where it enables them to transfer from one train line to another. However, as high-
lighted by the observation notes, there is the possibility of these ramps becoming stuck on the doors (along with the previous
concerns about bodily harm). The question of bodily harm stands here as well, but with the additional concern of how the
network as a whole might be affected by this ad-hoc technological solution: if a portable ramp becomes stuck and breaks the
door, causing delays to the entire network, whose responsibility is it?
Of course, it becomes difficult to regulate and even be aware of the type of problem-solving techniques that are developed
by users. Qualitative research methods allow for these techniques to surface in ways that a survey likely would not have
allowed––it is, after all, difficult to imagine the ingenious ways that users find to ‘‘hack” a system, including the transport
network. As Adam described it:
We’re always coming up with ideas. When somebody says, ‘‘you can’t do that”, 1) Can’t doesn’t exist in the English dictionary,
and 2) Watch me. (Adam)

5. Conclusions

Very little quantitative research was found on the topic of disabled passengers in public transport in the United Kingdom
(none were found about London) besides passenger surveys that were largely undertaken by government institutions and
offices. These were usefully collected and analyzed by Jolly and co-authors (Jolly et al., 2006), whose findings were largely
in line with much of the work presented here. In essence, disabled people ‘‘attach greater importance to public transport”
and they are ‘‘likely to see it as unreliable” (Jolly et al., 2006, p. 6). While these statements could just as easily have been
extracted from the data collected for this work, this qualitative research delved even further into the experiences of wheel-
chair users, surfacing interesting answers as to how wheelchair users use public transit in London. Firstly, it became clear
that despite the accessibility provisions at hand, there are still a variety of barriers that impede this demographic from using
public transport easily.
The barriers this research highlighted were categorized by interviewees as being physical barriers or social/attitudinal
ones. On the one hand, they highlighted various technical and spatial features of the transit system, such as broken ramps,
buzzers, and human-dependent manual ramps, as problematic features that add to their anxiety levels about traveling. Inter-
viewees also discussed social barriers at length, often spending more time discussing these than physical ones. Here, they
discussed the priority debates that have occupied the media limelight, pointing out that they do indeed face issues with
‘‘sharing” the wheelchair priority area. Nevertheless, as Jolly and co-authors also found in their meta-analysis, specific bar-
riers are easy to identify but ‘‘need to be viewed within the wider context of whole journeys” (Jolly et al., 2006, p. 6). This is
what became most poignant in the interviewees’ discourses for this research that had not fully emerged in previous quan-
titative work: accessibility, or rather inaccessibility, is a cumulative issue. In other words, the barriers faced by wheelchair
114 R. Velho / International Journal of Transportation Science and Technology 8 (2019) 103–115

users are not rare and far between––they often happen in succession or even simultaneously. This means that trips for
wheelchair users often take significantly longer than for non-disabled people as they wait for a bus that will allow them
to board, or for a staff member to deploy the manual boarding ramp.
In response to the various barriers that they face, wheelchair users who use public transit in London have become creative
in their journeys and have developed an arsenal of problem-solving techniques that will allow them to overcome (some)
barriers. Some examples were developing wheelchair skills (‘‘extreme” ones such as riding escalators, or being conscious
of one’s own ability to get out of the wheelchair and ‘‘crawl” off the bus), or even carrying ‘‘tool-kits” that include T-keys,
screwdrivers, and even their own portable, lightweight ramp.
However, two consequences emerge from the various barriers that wheelchair users encounter as well as the solutions
that they have invented to cope with them. Firstly, there is the serious question of the consequences of these barriers, which
have been discussed above. We should, of course, be concerned about the lack of accessibility provisions in how it impacts
disabled people’s ability to access important services (including hospital visits and education). However, as discussed above,
wheelchair users express concerns about social isolation and the impacts it can have on the mental wellbeing. We should not
forget that transport accessibility impacts one’s ability to engage in social activities; limiting these provisions therefore lim-
its disabled people’s life opportunities. Given that interviews here were undertaken with wheelchair users who do use public
transit, how many others do not even attempt to do so because of these barriers? And what is their quality of life?
Another consequence that warrants discussion and further research is the impact of the problem-solving techniques
developed by wheelchair users. While their development of wheelchair skills (by some) is a useful technique, having wheel-
chair users ‘‘hop” down steps and over gaps, or even up escalators, may lead to potential injury (to themselves and others). In
addition, other techniques highlighted, such as carrying toolkits with portable ramps on the back of their chairs, may be of
consequence to the infrastructure as a whole: how might their use of these tools affect the system? Is there something of
interest in these techniques to engineers and policy-makers? They may hold possible hints as to what accessibility provi-
sions will provide the most generative and impactful change to these passengers. While the aim of this article was not to
provide specific policy insights, it does urge policy makers and transport engineers alike to bear this research and the data
provided in mind. Disabled people carry a heavy burden with regards to social exclusion and isolation. In the United King-
dom, they are disproportionately affected by poverty4, unemployment5, and lack of education6 while the costs of living as a
disabled person are higher due to care needs, medical appointments and assistive devices7. In order to lighten the load carried
by this demographic and to ensure their inclusion and full participation in social life, transport accessibility needs to become a
priority both in policy and in engineering science and technology research.
Lastly, it is important to point out the importance and usefulness of qualitative methods in this particular research. The
issue of experience of public transport and how wheelchair users navigate within it is a complex one that warranted open-
ended questions which would not limit responses to presumed answers. The breadth of conversations with wheelchair users
allowed significant insights into their uses of the transport system––this method allowed for a novel insight into the
problem-solving techniques developed by this demographic and for a deeper understanding about their concerns about
the lack of accessibility. This paper highlights some possible areas of future inquiry that may take either quantitative or qual-
itative routes.

Acknowledgements

I am deeply grateful to all participants in this research for sharing their stories with me. Thank you also to the four peer-
reviewers whose comments have improved the first version of this article.

Funding

This work was supported by a grant from the Brazilian CAPES Foundation.

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Further Reading

Apardian, R., Alam, B.M., 2015. Methods of crossing at roundabouts for visually impaired pedestrians: review of literature. Int. J. Transp. Sci. Technol. 4 (3),
313–336.
Papworth Trust, 2016. Disability in the United Kingdom 2016: Facts and figures. Retrieved from: http://www.papworthtrust.org.uk/sites/default/files/
Disability%20Facts%20and%20Figures%202016.pdf.