The Great Road Cone Divide
People driven a little crazy by orange traffic cones now have somewhere to vent their frustration – in addition to neighbourhood Facebook pages, obviously – with the government’s recent announcement of a hotline for the public to “report on excessive road cone use”.
Because it seems wherever they go, politicians constantly hear voters talk about this “sea of cones”– that there too many of them overstaying their welcome, sometimes placed in spots that pose little risk, like conical boys crying wolf.
Hence the Road Cone Hotline where you can talk to someone from WorkSafe (rather than badger your local MP) and they’ll pass your complaint to the relevant authorities.
But wait! Not everyone is against the humble orange witch’s hat. Those in the business of caring for the safety of workers and road users respect this simple, effective hazard identification.
Even some citizens report feeling positive when they see traffic cones - a sign that things are being fixed or upgraded. And in rural areas it’s a trusted way of letting you know a farmer is moving stock just up ahead.
Some really don’t see what the fuss is about, describing orange cones as part of the landscape of the modern world. There’s even a theory we’ve been tricked into hating on road cones by conservative influencers, for whom it is a useful indicator of how much right-wing Kool-Aid a person might have drunk.
You can see, though, how circumstances could alter your view. In Christchurch, ubiquitous orange cones post-quake became emblematic of the trauma the city was dealing with, and the ensuing anger, helplessness and fear.
What is indisputable, though, is that New Zealand has a parlous record in workplace safety. Adjusted for population, deaths at work here are three times those in the UK, twice those in Ireland and Norway, and a third higher than Australia.
In light of this, we should recognise the humble cone as is a necessary safety tool, the last line of defence for many workers.
So, friends, if we have to live with them, one solution is to reframe the road cone in a positive light. I’m here to help with that.
Time was, no self-respecting student flat was without an orange witch’s hat placed lovingly in the corner of the lounge, or usefully in the kitchen where it could serve as a mop holder.
I hear from others that cones can double as a frost protector for plants, and are terrific for yelling at your mates through after a night out.
They can be transformed into art installations – I’ve seen photos from Australia where cones are assembled into shapes resembling a dandelion puffball.
Or they can be added to existing art. Famously, outside the Gallery of Modern Art in Glasgow, the statue of the Duke of Wellington astride his horse has, more often than not for the past 40 years, worn a traffic cone on his head. Inspired, Banksy called it his favourite work of art in the UK – “an anonymous art intervention”. And he would know.
Closer to home, the top prize in the 2024 World of Wearable Art went to Grace DuVal’s “Curves Ahead” inspired by the resilience of Kiwi during the Kaikoura rebuild after the 2016 quake, and featured a headpiece made of road cones and a dress in high-vis orange.
I am not in any way encouraging anyone to nick a cone, but to appreciate them in new and special ways, not only for their intrinsic beauty, but as potential lifesavers.