read How We Can Save the Planet in college, 2009, sitting in my dorm with the window open because I didn't have AC. changed how I thought about my own carbon footprint. didn't know he was still alive til just now, honestly. that book still sits on my shelf
Their story
Mayer Hillman was a British architect turned social scientist whose research at the Policy Studies Institute in London anticipated, often by decades, the way cities would come to think about walking, cycling, children's freedom, road danger, energy use and the climate crisis. Over more than half a century he argued,…
Mayer Hillman was a British architect turned social scientist whose research at the Policy Studies Institute in London anticipated, often by decades, the way cities would come to think about walking, cycling, children's freedom, road danger, energy use and the climate crisis. Over more than half a century he argued, with data rather than slogans, that public policy should be measured by its effects on people without cars, on children and on generations not yet born. Many of his once outlandish proposals, from 20mph speed limits and cycle lanes to raised pedestrian crossings at junctions and energy ratings for homes, later became ordinary features of British life.
Hillman was born on 30 October 1931 in West Hampstead, north west London, the youngest of three sons of David Hillman, a portrait painter and stained glass artist who had fled pogroms in Lithuania and settled in Glasgow, and Dr Annie Hillman, a general practitioner. Known as Mickey to family and many friends, he grew up in a Scottish Jewish household with his brothers Ellis and Harold. When the Second World War began the boys were evacuated to Rickmansworth in Hertfordshire. Offered meat and fish by his hosts, the boy from a kosher home politely declined, and he remained a vegetarian for the rest of his life. For the rest of the war the brothers travelled by train between Rickmansworth and home on their own, and Hillman later contrasted that "free range" childhood with the "battery" lives of 21st century children.
He trained at the Bartlett School of Architecture at University College London, qualifying in architecture in 1954 and in town planning in 1956, and became a partner in a newly established north London practice. In 1956 he co-designed, for a competition, a prototype for the first pedestrian oriented new town in the UK. Colin Buchanan's influential 1963 report Traffic in Towns, which argued for reorganising cities around growing car ownership, pushed him to change direction. He disagreed with its premise, left architecture and completed a doctoral thesis at the University of Edinburgh in 1970 on mobility in new towns and the social and environmental side of personal travel.
In 1970 he joined Political and Economic Planning, later the Policy Studies Institute (PSI), where he spent the rest of his career. He headed its Environment and Quality of Life Research Programme until 1992 and then became Senior Fellow Emeritus. His 1979 report Walking Is Transport, written with Anne Whalley, pointed out that national transport statistics ignored journeys under a mile, and so made walking, and much of women's travel, invisible. His best known study, One False Move (1990), written with John Adams and John Whitelegg, showed that the share of seven and eight year olds travelling to school on their own had collapsed from 80 percent in 1971 to 9 percent by 1990. Falling child road deaths, he argued, did not mean safer roads but children driven off them by fear of traffic. "Danger should be removed from children rather than children from danger," he concluded.
He wrote or co-wrote more than 50 books and reports, gave evidence to many House of Commons select committees, advised Labour Party transport study groups, was a patron of RoadPeace and Sustrans, and was a technical adviser to the Road Danger Reduction Forum and the Slower Speeds Initiative. A lifelong cyclist, he argued in 1993 against compulsory cycle helmets and made the health case for cycling in a 1992 British Medical Association book.
From around 1990 the climate crisis increasingly dominated his work. He first proposed personal carbon rationing in 1990, comparing it with the consensus behind wartime rationing, and set out the case in How We Can Save the Planet (2004, with Tina Fawcett) and The Suicidal Planet (2007, with Tina Fawcett and Sudhir Rajan). He stopped flying for decades as a personal commitment. In 2006 the Guardian placed him at number 37 in an Environment Agency list of the top green campaigners of all time.
In a 2018 Guardian interview he gave what he called his "last will and testament" on the subject. "We're doomed," he said, smiling, arguing that the world had passed the point of no return and that individual action was "as good as futile" without global change to zero emissions. He announced that he would stop writing and speaking on climate change, although his output had already slowed after a stroke and heart surgery, and the PSI closed that year.
Hillman married Heidi Krott in 1964. She had come to Britain from Vienna in 1939, aged two, as a refugee in her mother's arms. They had two sons, Josh (born 1968) and Saul (born 1970). Heidi died in 2017. Proud of his Jewish background yet an avowed "militant atheist", he was remembered by Anne Karpf in the Guardian as "cheerfully apocalyptic, dogged but big-hearted", and he rode his bike around London into advanced old age.
Mayer Hillman died on 25 September 2026, aged 94, a month short of his 95th birthday. His cause of death was not made public. He was survived by his sons Josh and Saul and his grandchildren Jasmine, Eva and Rafi.
Biography adapted from The Guardian obituary by Anne Karpf (20 October 2026); The Guardian interview by Patrick Barkham (26 April 2018); Local Transport Today (30 September 2026); mayerhillman.com About page (archived 2014).
In their own words
“Danger should be removed from children rather than children from danger.”
His conclusion on road safety and children's independent mobility, quoted in the Guardian obituary (2026).
“We're doomed. The outcome is death, and it's the end of most life on the planet because we're so dependent on the burning of fossil fuels.”
Interview with Patrick Barkham, the Guardian, 26 April 2018.
“So many aspects of life depend on fossil fuels, except for music and love and education and happiness. These things, which hardly use fossil fuels, are what we must focus on.”
The Guardian, 2018.
“Even if the world went zero-carbon today that would not save us because we've gone past the point of no return.”
The Guardian, 2018.
“Can you see everyone in a democracy volunteering to give up flying? Can you see the majority of the population becoming vegan? Can you see the majority agreeing to restrict the size of their families?”
On why he doubted civilisation could cut emissions in time, the Guardian, 2018.
“I was saying these sorts of things 30 years ago when I was hale and hearty.”
Rejecting the idea that his pessimism came from old age, the Guardian, 2018.
“With doom ahead, making a case for cycling as the primary mode of transport is almost irrelevant.”
The Guardian, 2018.

that book did it for me too, didn't know who wrote it till years later