The new regulation requiring us all to wear seat belts on buses was cancelled after five days. The charitable explanation:  because of public opposition to the measure. This depends on the nice, but implausible, notion that the government cares what people think, at least about something.

The less kind explanation: our legislators let the new rules through without noticing that citizens who wished to know whether the law applied to them on any particular trip would have to ascertain the age of the bus. Whoops. 

On one level, this is an everyday story of careless constitutional design. The reformed system is set up to stuff the legislative and consultative machinery with people who will tell the government what it wishes to hear. You can’t expect it to provide an accurate report of public opinion on anything, and it doesn’t.

On another level, this is a typical performance from a department which seems to have strong opinions of its own. Observant residents in Sui Wo Road are baffled by the apparently random placement of a variety of street furniture, culminating in the curious insistence on providing bus shelters in places where nobody will use them, while adamantly refusing to put them where they are needed.

In the days when I occasionally visited government departments to interview their occupants the Transport Department people came across as intelligent and thoughtful. No doubt they still do. But the results of their collective efforts are, alas, sometimes difficult to understand.

I am personally an enthusiastic user of seat belts. They have saved many lives, including mine. Tour buses, on my last trip to Europe, all featured seatbelts and we were regularly reminded that using them was a legal requirement.

But seat belts on a Hong Kong public bus? Regardless of the numbers painted on the side they are, at busy times, packed. The driver has no control over the number of passengers admitted, and quite understandably imposes a limit only when the number of standing passengers threatens to block his view of the nearside wing mirror. Insisting that the seated passengers should wear a belt seems a bit of a token gesture.

Anyway, many writers have chewed over the transport aspects of this matter. What I thought should have been given a bit more thought was the matter of penalties for not belting up. Of course, there must be some penalty or the rule will not be taken seriously, but what on earth was going through the head of the person who thought it appropriate to threaten offenders with three months in prison?

Failing to fasten your seat belt is, as the late lamented Judge Caprio used to put it, “not an offence of gross moral turpitude.” It is a victimless crime, in the sense that the only person likely to be hurt as a result of failure to fasten is the perpetrator. Most offenders will have been guilty of nothing worse than absent-mindedness.

Willingness to jail people for this minor offence sits uneasily with the government’s total helplessness when faced with equally minor offences committed by people who can afford cars of their own, and the general immunity enjoyed by the perpetrators of potentially dangerous peccadillos like double parking in busy streets or obstructing roads reserved for emergency use.

Not wearing a belt is surely the sort of offence which can be easily and quickly dealt with by the issuing of a fixed penalty ticket, preferably for some modest sum within the means of bus travellers, who are not a wealthy bunch.

Sending people to prison for a few weeks used to be common in many jurisdictions but is now often considered an abuse to be avoided as far as possible. It inflicts the sort of disruption which makes a return to law-abiding citizenship difficult; the prisoner may lose their job, home or spouse. At the same time, it provides no opportunity for the sort of rehabilitative and educational activities which can form the constructive part of a prison sentence.

The inmate is more likely to emerge resentful than reformed.

Our government seems, sadly, rather over-enthusiastic these days for throwing people into prison, regardless of their age or condition. This may be a difficult point to put across to retired policemen turned politicians, but the government is in some ways different from a police force.

Success in police work may be measured by the number of criminals jailed. Success in government is measured by the happiness of the governed. Are we happier this week?