How fine are high traffic fines?

While visiting my family in Australia, an unwelcome letter arrived for me in the mail. It was a traffic infringement notice. With it came a large fine. A traffic camera had caught me briefly exceeding the speed limit by barely 5 km per hour. The penalty: $207 (Rs 10,000) and one demerit point. If I’d been doing more than 10 km per hour over the limit, I would’ve received a fine of $330 (Rs 16,200) and three demerit points. Accrue 12 points in three years and my licence would be suspended for three months. Those who really feel the need to speed face immediate licence suspension, plus a hefty fine, if doing more than 25 km per hour over the limit. It’s strict!

The minimum traffic fine in my state in Australia is $165 (Rs 8,000). It rises to $800 (Rs 40,000) depending on the severity of the offence, such as driving an unregistered vehicle. Want to try your luck driving without a licence? The maximum penalty was recently tripled to $9,900 (Rs 4.7 lakh!) fine or six months jail. Forget driving while disqualified. The maximum penalty is now a massive $39,600 (Rs 19 lakh!) fine or two years jail. Australia has among the highest traffic fines in the world. Do people think it’s unfair? For sure. However, it does instil discipline. I had to explain this to my tense Indian husband while we were travelling on a highway in Australia. “Go slow,” he had implored me, fearful of encountering the rash driving that’s rampant on Indian highways.

Back in India, in a cafe in an up-market Mumbai neighbourhood, I gazed out the window, transfixed at the scene unfolding at a busy roundabout. Instead of giving way to oncoming vehicles already in the roundabout, drivers were mindlessly entering the roundabout and cutting them off (that would’ve earned me a $289 fine in Australia). The roundabout was jammed. Horns screamed. Yet, the determined drivers kept wedging their way into every gap like a game of Tetris. A major cause of India’s traffic woes is obviously the drivers themselves. Even if they’re aware of the rules, there’s little to ensure they follow them. Heck, even I’ve become quite chalta hai in daily life myself.

Which is why I was as surprised as every Indian when the central government significantly upped the penalties for traffic violations -- and super curious as to how it would pan out. Typically, the responses ranged from full support to outrage over no longer being able to pleasurably break the rules. Most bewildering were those who insisted on penalty reductions to prevent “undue pain”. The reality is that people rarely change unless they fear the consequences of their actions enough. And in a country such as India, where recalcitrancy reigns, the consequences must be steep.

The difference in Australia is that the system, and the infrastructure, induce respect and compliance. Roads are well maintained, signs are clearly displayed, penalties are consistently applied, and bribes are not an option. This also needs to happen in India for high fines to be optimally effective.

The fines are making a difference though, judging by the number of people who’ve suddenly found it necessary to get helmets, insurance and ‘Pollution Under Control’ certificates. Nevertheless, until everyone becomes serious about driving in a disciplined manner, a honk-free India will remain a futile dream and my specially installed double-glazed windows will have to remain tightly shut. Intermittent “No Honking” campaigns aren’t going to solve the problem. I know because driving in India compels me to honk ferociously to vent my frustrations, too. Sensibly, I always take an Uber now.