The pros and cons of speed cameras

The speed camera is not merely, as Wikipedia states, "a device used in Italy to measure the speed of vehicles on the road". It has also, unwittingly, become a barometer of the strength of the rule of law in Italy. Its significance in public debate stems from the conflict between the interests of the state and individual rights. Last Monday, 850 speed cameras – out of a total of around 4,000 – were deactivated because they had not been type-approved. This situation is the result of over thirty years of legislative and administrative inaction: first, the type-approval procedures were not regulated; then attempts were made to circumvent them. In the meantime, the scale of the problem has grown.

Complicating matters further is the political polarisation that has long been poisoning the debate. At a certain point, the narrative took hold that speeding is a right-wing issue, whilst speed checks are a left-wing one. This interpretation is not only unfounded but also contradictory. According to Istat, excessive speed is the cause of 8.6 per cent of accidents (7.7 per cent on urban roads, 11.2 per cent on rural roads). This makes it the third most common risk factor (the second on rural roads), after distracted driving (15.7 per cent) and failure to give way or obey traffic lights (13.5 per cent). The importance of tackling dangerous behaviour is beyond question. However, this raises three questions: 1) are speed cameras effective? 2) is our use of them genuinely aimed at saving lives? 3) how can we resolve the current situation, in which around a fifth of existing devices are temporarily out of service, and potentially many more are at risk?

Answering the first two questions is essential to understanding what we are actually talking about. The third question highlights the issue that warrants further examination. Assuming that speed cameras are appropriate for serving the public interest, the way in which we have managed them says more about the country’s intangible infrastructure than its physical infrastructure. The paradox is that it is precisely the right-wing government – which is more inclined to challenge speed checks – that is, in fact, fighting to keep non-approved devices in operation (after having cracked down on alcohol and drugs). Consequently, motorists know they can win any appeals, and the deterrent effect of the devices is thereby reduced. However laudable it may be, the aim of enforcing speed limits and reducing accidents cannot override the obligation to use reliable speed measurement devices.

What is at stake here is not a road safety measure, but a more general principle: whether the State can expect citizens to comply with procedures that it itself considers can be circumvented when they directly affect it.

The idea of automatic speed detection devices first appeared in an 1894 science fiction novel, "A Journey in Other Worlds: A Romance of the Future" by John Jacob Astor IV. In the story, set in the year 2000, Europe is under the control of socialist governments, whilst the United States is the dominant power, with African and Latin American countries seeking to join it. Technological progress has literally transformed the world. For example, in the US, “traffic officers also have instant Kodak cameras mounted on tripods, which record the position of each vehicle at intervals of half a second and a quarter of a second. Thus, should officers be unable to estimate a vehicle’s speed by eye, it is easy to determine it with precision. No vehicle can therefore exceed the speed limit on the stretch of road it is travelling along, nor can a vehicle travelling too slowly linger in the lanes designated for fast-moving traffic’. In the drama, the name given to the cameras is the same as that of the leading manufacturer at the time (Kodak, founded in 1880). A similar fate befell the ‘autovelox’ in Italy: the term we write with a lower-case ‘a’ originated as a registered trademark of Sodi Scientifica, which marketed it in Italy from the 1970s onwards.

In science fiction and in reality, however, one thing remains the same: speed can kill. A good enforcement system is not one that issues the most fines, but one that issues the fewest, because everyone obeys the rules. For this to work, certain criteria must be met: the penalty must be sufficiently high; the probability of being fined must be high enough; and the methods used to detect offences must be credible. Citizens must be able to trust that fines are not issued at random but result from the actual measurement of speed. This can be guaranteed in two ways: by issuing a notice of the offence at the moment it is detected, or through automatic devices – such as, indeed, Astor’s ‘instant Kodak’ cameras.

In general, speed cameras are a fairly effective tool. A systematic review of 94 studies on the subject, recently published in the journal "Accident Analysis & Prevention", found that all reported a reduction in average driving speed on monitored roads, with an average reduction of 7.57 km/h. This estimate is purely indicative, given the diversity of methodologies and contexts studied, but it clearly conveys a sense of broad consensus. At the same time, the widespread use of these devices is associated with behavioural changes that are not always desirable, such as the so-called ‘kangaroo jump’ (abrupt braking upon approaching the device, followed by an equally abrupt acceleration immediately afterwards). This phenomenon is less common where there are several devices in succession or on stretches of road subject to average speed enforcement. Furthermore, the deterrent effect is greatest when the devices are clearly visible. Otherwise, if the main objective is to increase revenue from fines, the impact on traffic flow is less significant. In summary, speed cameras are useful: they are not a panacea.

A 2005 study by three road safety experts – Amanda Delaney, Heather Ward and Max Cameron – links its social acceptability to the resolution of four key issues: the credibility dilemma (it must be clear that the aim is to reduce accidents, not to issue fines); the social dilemma (the widespread belief that driving slightly over the speed limit does not increase the risk); the implementation dilemma (the suspicion that focusing on speeding distracts law enforcement from other, more serious offences); and the legitimacy dilemma (the verification of actual breaches of the rules). This last point leads directly to the subject of this article, namely the role of type-approval.

The Codice della strada, the framework of which dates back to 1992, assigns the certification of speed camera reliability to a two-stage procedure: approval and type-approval. To be honest, in some passages the law refers to ‘approval or type-approval’, giving rise to a certain degree of lexical confusion (as it can be interpreted either to mean that at least one of the two is sufficient, or that both are required). Furthermore, whilst the approval procedures have always been clear, the type-approval procedures have long remained in limbo. In fact, until recently it was unclear who was responsible for them. Consequently, the vast majority of speed cameras installed have only been approved. What is the difference between the two procedures? And what is the precise meaning of the disjunctive conjunction ‘or’?

Type-approval is a purely administrative process, which involves, on the one hand, a formal examination of the prototype based on the documentation submitted by the manufacturer; and, on the other hand, an analysis of certain functional characteristics (such as the firing mode or data storage) not governed by detailed technical standards. Conversely, type approval is a far more onerous procedure. It involves, amongst other things, carrying out metrological accuracy tests (the deviation between the measured speed and the actual speed), laboratory tests under extreme conditions (for example, tests for resistance to thermal shocks) and field trials. Although they may appear similar, they serve different purposes: approval ensures that the device model complies with standards, whilst type approval ensures its accuracy.

It is on this point that the extensive case law has focused: the common thread running through the many judgements, at all levels of the courts, is that both are required. Without type-approval, there is no certainty as to the accuracy of the data; therefore, it cannot be presumed that the recorded data is correct. Consequently, it cannot acquire legal validity, as this would entail a reversal of the burden of proof. If a device is type-approved, the authorities know it is reliable; it is up to those contesting the results to prove that some event has occurred which has compromised its operation. Conversely, a speed camera that is merely “approved” has not passed the tests prescribed by law, so no one has verified its operation: the conditions for reversing the burden of proof are not met. For the same reason, it must be calibrated and inspected at regular intervals. The burden of proving that this has taken place lies with the authorities. To quote the Court of Cassation: “where the suitability of the device is contested, the authorities must provide conclusive evidence to that effect by producing the relevant type-approval and conformity certificates; moreover, they may not resort to alternative means of certifying or demonstrating the correct operation of such devices”.

The principle of type-approval extends far beyond speed cameras and applies to any other device designed to produce admissible evidence in court. For example, it applies to T-Red cameras (which record red-light offences), access control systems for restricted traffic zones (ZTLs) and breathalysers. Speed cameras, in theory, are no exception.

The decree issued by Minister Matteo Salvini, which came into force last week, effectively provides for the deactivation of around 20 per cent of current devices (which may be returned to service once they have been type-approved). However, at the same time, it stipulates that devices approved after 2017 may remain in operation even if they are not type-approved. The decree, therefore, reiterates that approval and type-approval are distinct concepts and both are necessary. Furthermore, it sets out in detail the tests to be carried out in order to obtain type-approval. Finally, it assigns responsibility for both procedures to the Ministry of Transport (MIT). In doing so, it effectively grants amnesty to the vast majority of existing speed cameras. Can an implementing decree so blatantly – albeit exceptionally – derogate from what is explicitly laid down in primary legislation and repeatedly reaffirmed by case law?

The compromise invoked by the MIT lies in the fact that these devices were approved under the immediately preceding regulations (a 2017 ministerial decree) and that the body responsible for approval is the same as that responsible for type-approval. In itself, assigning both functions to the MIT is not controversial (even though responsibility for other similar procedures lies with the Ministry of Enterprise and Made in Italy). What appears illogical, however, is the decision to set out principles and criteria in Article 1 (“type-approval of the prototype is carried out to ascertain that the devices or systems produced in accordance with the aforementioned prototype are suitable as speed measuring devices and meet the required standards”), only to contradict them in Article 6 (“devices or systems conforming to approved prototypes’ after 2017 ‘shall be deemed to have been type-approved’). Paradoxically, this choice runs counter to its own premise, namely to rectify the glaring anomaly of speed cameras lacking type-approval.

The MIT has its reasons: to prevent virtually all existing speed cameras from being switched off. But this practical concern cannot justify the repetition of the very same injustice from which the whole situation stems. If previous governments (and the Meloni government in recent years) had intervened sooner, the number of compliant devices would be higher and the number requiring type-approval lower. Consequently, the litigation would be less significant, as would the number of cases lost by local authorities. The MIT could have safeguarded the overall objective of maintaining road safety in a more cautious manner: for example, it could have allowed a reasonable period of time for all devices to be approved. At that point, it could have ordered the validation or annulment of the fines imposed in the meantime, depending on the outcome of the procedure. Instead, it chose to sacrifice a number of older speed cameras in order to justify a general amnesty for all the others.

Viewed from this perspective, the issue forms part of a broader picture: the intolerable disparity in the way problems are addressed, depending on whether it is public or private entities that are breaching the rules. To stay on topic, type-approval – understood as a measure going beyond mere authorisation – is required for a range of machinery, commonly used not only on the roads but also in many other sectors. However, when families or businesses are involved, formal compliance with the rules becomes (rightly) non-negotiable. If an insurance company installs a non-type-approved black box, the data it records cannot be admissible in court. If a haulier does the same, they are liable to fines of up to 3,000 euros. The very sale of non-approved black boxes and tachographs is not permitted and results in the product being withdrawn from the market throughout the European Union. Commonly used and widely available medical devices, such as blood pressure monitors and pulse oximeters, must be approved; otherwise, manufacturers face fines of between 24,200 and 145,000 euros. There is also provision for criminal or administrative seizure and, potentially, prosecution for the sale of faulty medicines or devices. If a shopkeeper uses an unapproved set of scales, fines range from €500 to €1,500, in addition to administrative seizure. The list goes on and on: from workplace safety equipment to motorbike helmets, from electricity, gas and water meters to sound level meters.

If we look at the issue as a whole, in short, there is nothing exceptional about the speed camera case. Like a thousand other devices, they can only be used if they meet all the requirements. If not, they should be withdrawn, at least until they have obtained all the necessary certifications. There are, however, two crucial differences. First of all, there is no dispute of similar duration and scope in other areas. This is understandable: in none of these cases is illegality so widespread and persistent over time. Those responsible would have been identified and prosecuted much earlier, and non-compliant products would have been taken off the market. The second difference is that, in none of these cases, in the face of systematic and repeated breaches of the rules, would there be any attempt to introduce amnesties, derogations, exceptions or blanket leniency. A few years ago, in a well-received book entitled "Sudditi", Nicola Rossi explained that the distance between the state and the citizen is “an expression of the state’s weakness, far more than of its strength” and “a sign of the malaise that has characterised Italian society for decades now”. Differential treatment is typical of a relationship based on hierarchy: that which pits the sovereign against his subjects. Instead of being based on laws that are the same for everyone, this relationship turns the law into a patchwork quilt in which each person is granted different rights and duties – those which, historically, were called “privileges” and which, indeed, were manifestations of the sovereign’s benevolence. “The equal nature of the relationship between the State and the citizen,” continues Rossi, “must be reflected in the State’s day-to-day conduct. But, above all, the equal nature of the relationship between the State and the citizen must find its natural expression in the letter of the law.”

On the subject of speed cameras, the letter of the law is unequivocal but is stubbornly disregarded. Of course, if an individual challenges the fine, they are proved right: but how can we accept that a right is systematically trampled upon, only to be recognised when the person claiming it takes legal action? The debate on speed cameras is very complex, but also very simple: it is not about speeding, but about the abuse of power.