Jan 15, 2019 7:00 AM

As Tech Invades Cycling, Are Bike Activists Selling Out?

Now in the cycling business, Uber, Lyft, and others are co-opting the experience of longtime safe streets advocates.

Woman walks on sidewalk with two Jump bikes parked to the side.

Never in a million years did Nelle Pierson think she would end up working for Uber. Travis Kalanick’s Uber, Susan Fowler’s Uber, the Uber that spent the past two years entangled in lawsuits. Uber the “disruptor”, Uber, the bastion of the neu-tech bro. The Uber whose “independent contractor” drivers treat bike lanes as convenient parking spots.

She had no reason to think she would, in any case. Pierson has loved bicycles since she started riding around her Denver neighborhood as a kid. She has loved cycling activism since college, when she learned about climate change and vehicle emissions and decided she wanted to be able to snowboard with her grandkids. After school, she spent seven years at the Washington Area Bicyclist Association, spearheading efforts to encourage more women in the District to cycle. She believes bikes line the path to equitable transportation systems for all. Her Twitter name is “Nellë Helmëts Arent Thë Answër Pierson.” She has a bike tattoo over her heart.

So Pierson is almost befuddled herself by her current gig, as a marketing lead at the e-bike- and -scooter-share company Jump, which was acquired by Uber last spring for some $200 million. “I would never guessed that I would be working for Uber Technologies, Incorporated, on bicycles,” Pierson says. “I would never have guessed that I would be working for the biggest ride-share company doing the thing I care about most.” And she’s not alone.

As companies like Uber, Lyft, Lime, Bird, and Spin bring the ways of tech to bikes and scooters, they have recruited former cycling, street safety, and urbanism advocates to help them out. Scott Kubly, former head of Seattle’s Department of Transportation, is now chief program officer at Lime. Paul Steely White, who had a very occasional habit of getting arrested while protesting for safer streets, left the New York City advocacy group Transportation Alternatives and became Bird’s director of safety policy and advocacy.

Tech unicorns bedeviled by local cultures, politics, and regulations benefit from the aid and relationships of experienced advocates. They want well-maintained hardware and well-trained mechanics, sure, but also safer streets and better infrastructure, to encourage more folks to give riding a try. This requires seeing cities as partners, not obstacles. Veteran transportation advocates, now advising new colleagues on creating partnerships with community groups, sitting down with government officials, and hammering out urban policy, can be extra instructive there.

For those advocates, though, the pairing can be uneasy. Companies like Uber, Lyft, Bird, and Lime have made enemies of some city governments and communities by sidestepping public approval processes—the opposite of grassroots activism. (And when bike-lovers do resort to guerrilla tactics, it’s to make a point, not a profit.) And it’s not clear whether these companies are a net-positive for the environment, or even urban transportation systems. Research suggests Uber and Lyft actually add to downtown traffic, and calls into question whether the services truly allow riders to ditch the headache and expense of their own personal cars.

Still, the new breed of tech-powered advocates see serious upside to having well-funded allies. “Selling out” comes with access to sprawling platforms and budgets for pro-climate, pro-cycling, and pro-street safety work.

“I think we're about to unlock so much potential, to tap into this latent demand in cities for better transportation options, more transportation options, that mean, frankly, less time in the car,” says Caroline Samponaro, who left her position as the deputy director at Transportation Alternatives after 12 years last spring. She now works at the head of bike, scooter, and pedestrian policy at Lyft, which bought North America’s largest bike-share operator last year and now runs scooter-share services, too. “To me, this my life's work,” she says. “So the fact I get to be at Lyft helping to be a part of that and lead that, it's just so cool.” For Sampanaro and others, the math is simple: Same goals, more funding, bigger microphone.

But the moves have sowed some discord. Some activists feel antipathy toward the tech space, to venture capital, to capitalism in general. Questions remain about what happens if bike- and scooter-share collapse, and the money and support disappears. Some are skeptical, too, about whether these new companies are truly willing to invest their time and cash in disadvantaged communities, which can need specialized outreach and tech solutions. These are profit making companies, after all.

"Bike share and scooter share companies are smart to want to hire advocates, especially those who have a proven track record of winning safer streets,” Joseph Cutrufo, the communications director at Transportation Alternatives, said in a statement. “But what's even smarter is when these companies partner with advocacy groups to make sure they're working in the interest of serving local transportation needs, and doing so in an equitable fashion.”

Others wonder whether these large and growing technology companies actually undermine the greater work of activism, by bypassing the grassroots coalition-building that has supported local cycling and street safety communities for decades. “I’ve come to understand that bicycle advocacy is an entry point to looking at questions of democratic participation: Who has a say over where our tax dollars go, or over shared public spaces, like streets?” says Adonia Lugo, a Los Angeles-based urban anthropologist who studies cycling activism.

Lugo’s work has found that “transportation justice” conversations can be powerful gateways for communities—and particularly communities of color—to become engaged in broader justice work. Bro-bilizing a pro-street safety community into being, or well-funded company suddenly throwing money into biking, might skip the most important part of urban activism: creating empowered groups that last.

Sampanaro argues that she can help solve important urban issues from within Lyft. For example: She says Lyft is set on bike-share expansions that cities have wanted for years, but haven’t had the will or funding to do, and that the company is “modeling out” ways to keep drivers educated about interacting with cyclists on the street. “To me, the potential for bike-share feels very clear, and I think the private sector being involved and investing resources to help cities achieve those goals presents such an opportunity for city residents,” she says.

Sampanaro’s former colleague White, who’s now with Bird, describes the appeal a little more simply: He loves not using a car. He wants everyone to be able to enjoy the same liberty. “When you’re on a bike, it’s slow enough to experience the city but fast enough to feel like you’re going somewhere. It’s this dreamy feeling,” he says. “I feel like being on a Bird is that, plus. I find myself smiling a lot.”

If doing what you love is good, bringing that joy to others can’t be all bad.

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