Everything and everyone on track 2 of Hoorn station is ready to leave, but the intercity remains stationary. It’s Friday afternoon, 5:33 PM. A little further on, on the track, is a woman. Police sirens sound in the distance. Shortly afterwards, officers run onto the tracks. Bystanders watch as the visibly confused young woman is eventually lifted by the arms and legs and taken away. The NS travel app will already show a red exclamation mark above the elapsed departure time: “This travel advice has expired.”
The intercity is slowly emptying. Cursing is heard on the busy platform. “We can start driving now, right?!,” a traveler says in a high tone to the driver. “Sorry, but this train is not leaving anymore,” is his calm answer. Irritated, the man disappears into the crowd. Edwin, as the experienced train driver is called, remains personable amid the hectic pace. Asked about the traveler’s verbal lashing, he said: “This happens every day.” And on the trail of a confused person? “That happens almost every day.”
It is these types of events that the NS was referring to last week when announcing the increased number of “aggression incidents”. In 2023, the number of reports by NS staff increased again to 1,042 incidents. An increase of 77 (8 percent) compared to 2022. “This concerns physical and verbal aggression in the A category,” according to the railway organization. In other words: the “most serious incidents”. Harassment, unsolicited filming of conductors or smoking on the train fall into the B category. NS does not wish to provide further explanation.
Many of their conductors and drivers do, as it turns out NRC jumps on different trains on Friday, Saturday and Sunday in the Randstad provinces, where the majority of incidents occur. On platforms, in train compartments or out of sight of a station camera, railway staff talk about their daily experiences. “It is important that we talk about this with each other.”
Intervene or ignore
Earlier in the day, a female driver on the Enkhuizen-Amsterdam route talked about an incident that gave her career a different turn. During corona times, she was sitting with a colleague on a deserted local train from Utrecht when she suddenly heard someone screaming uncontrollably. A young woman appeared to be strangled by a man. Eventually the two conductors managed to pry the angry man away from the woman. “Although she was wearing a turtleneck, the fingerprints were on her neck.” She swallows. “Against all corona protocols, I gave her a hug when she was handed over to the police.”
The unprecedented aggression made her think and contributed to her wanting to “move forward”: technical jargon for a train driver’s workplace, in the cockpit of the train. The switch gave her what she hoped for, she says: the dynamics that come with working on the railway, but without many confrontations with disrespectful travelers. “A fantastic job.” An expression of praise that almost all NS employees share NRC agreed to join.
They are equally unanimous about the background of the troublemakers. The vast majority of them are fare dodgers. They laugh off the idea that it is difficult to pass the turnstiles without a valid ticket. “No.” At Hoorn station alone, says one of them, the gates were “forced” dozens of times a day for a long time: kicked open with force. And if that doesn’t happen, fare dodgers simply follow other travelers through the entrance gates – moving the problem to the platforms and trains. During the ticket check, the staff is then faced with the dilemma: to fine or not? Intervene or ignore?
Assess situations quickly
“That completely depends on the situation,” says Frits (44). Despite his many years of service as a conductor, he experiences few problems, he says at Amsterdam Sloterdijk station. His starting point: “I also want to get home safely.” In practice, this means that he quickly assesses situations and makes choices when checking tickets. “I am not paid by the NS to go and mess with people.”
He looks at his watch, gets back in and says just before the doors close: “If that’s how you approach life, this profession is doable.” He winks. And the train is gone.
Not everyone prefers that arrangement. “Nowadays everything is about service,” says a conductor with a dirty face on Saturday evening. The intercity is on its way to Lelystad. “When I started at the NS almost thirty years ago, it was mainly about ticket control. Rightly so. This company doesn’t run on air, does it?” That time has passed. “I don’t think they would even hire me now. They don’t like people with mouths.”
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It was just after ten o’clock on Saturday evening when another conductor on the Amsterdam-Almere route noticed a man in first class leaning over the seats. “Good evening! Could I see your ticket?” The man in a tracksuit starts. He doesn’t have a ticket. No ID either, by the way. With routine, the female conductor grabs her walkie-talkie and says to the driver: “Could you call Almere for me?”
In the compartment, fellow travelers are eagerly following how things will turn out. Friendly but decisive, the conductor tells the traveler that he must leave the train at the next station. The man appears to be under the influence, stands up and grabs onto a chair. He is a head taller than her. Yet she knows how to skillfully talk the man out of Almere while keeping a good arm’s length away from him. Once on the platform, the man prepares to walk away. She subtly directs him into a corner. A few minutes later, two uniformed employees from the NS Service and Safety department take the man away. She turns around, blows her whistle and closes the doors. Without any significant delay, the intercity disappears into the dark.
It is these types of incidents that form the razor-thin line between the dynamics and the dangers of their profession, say the 22 conductors and drivers who NRC spoke. About the same number did not want to talk (“Those are the instructions”).
Station Horn.
Photos Olivier Middendorp
‘There’s a street pizza here’
The common thread in all the stories: they usually enjoy their work, but the group of fare dodgers is increasingly becoming a problem that needs to be tackled. “The tension is rising. You feel that.” The late train from Zwolle to Amsterdam is proof of this on Saturday evening. A compartment has been turned into a night pub after closing time. Drunken youth cause a nuisance. Someone threw up in a corner. In NS jargon: “There is a street pizza here.”
In addition to confused people, homeless people and asylum seekers – “Some people give a shit about everything because they have nothing to lose” – it often concerns groups of young people, whether or not under the influence of drink or drugs. For example, two conductors issued six fines on Saturday evening alone during a trip on the Zwolle-Lelystad route. A person involved: “All young people.”
One of the solutions according to the NS “improving the information position” of their frontline employees. For example, they must have access to confidential personal data in order to determine someone’s identity themselves, for which they are no longer dependent on the police. According to the FNV trade union, action is awaited by outgoing Minister of Justice and Security Dilan Yesilgöz (VVD). “Now sort this out,” says FNV director Henri Janssen.
The most common solution among staff: tighter access controls. “Put security at the turnstiles at the major stations,” says a young conductor at Utrecht Central Station around noon on Sunday. He points to the row of gates spanning the full width of the station hall. “Go and have a look there. Within five minutes you will see the first fare dodgers slip through.” His rule of thumb also appears to be correct on a quiet Sunday during spring break.
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