It’s easy to speed on the streets of Midland.
The roads are wide and relatively free of traffic. The sky overhead is a cloudless blue that seems to stretch on forever. And the West Texas terrain is dry as a desert and flat as a tabletop.
In such a setting, the speed limit signs seem to be a suggestion. There’s no reason not to zip it across town.
And in my early days living there, that’s exactly what I did.
However, I soon discovered the cost of such expedience. All too often, a traffic light would turn to yellow as I was barreling toward an intersection. I would have to speed through the light before it turned red when this happened; I didn’t have enough space to slam on the brakes in time.
I generally made it through just fine. But one time, the light turned red just as I hit the intersection.
Now, I had learned years earlier that there is usually a buffer zone after a traffic light turns red. There are a few seconds built into the cycle in which the traffic lights in all directions are red. That way, any remaining vehicles can clear the intersection.
So, I wasn’t worried about getting broadsided or t-boned by another vehicle.
But what I was worried about was something I saw right above the light standard. That something was a traffic camera.
I knew that these cameras could single out offenders. They could identify vehicles that entered an intersection a second too late. And they could help the police send traffic tickets to those drivers — even if no officers were on the scene.
I had heard horror stories of this happening in other cities. So, I would always be cautious when I saw traffic cameras while driving in Miami, New York, Boston, Washington or a host of other cities.
Now, here on the plains of West Texas, my nemesis had returned.
Great, I thought. Just what I need.
Over the next few weeks, I patiently waited for my traffic ticket to come in the mail. And I kept a watchful eye out for more traffic cameras. Given my low salary, I couldn’t afford a second ticket.
But the first traffic ticket never came. For it turns out those cameras weren’t to nab red light runners. They were there as a public safety protocol.
Officers might pull the footage if there was a bad accident near the intersection, or if they were trying to locate a stolen car that might have passed through. But they weren’t using it for a traffic ticket scheme.
I should have expected this news. Texas has always been a haven for personal liberties. A place where homeowners are allowed to defend their properties with shotguns, and motorcyclists can ride without helmets.
Liberty lies with the individual. And so does much of the burden of responsibility.
While the rule of law exists in Texas, the extent of its reach is restricted. So, Big Brother would likely not be out to get me for hitting an intersection a hair too late.
I later found out — the hard way — that some cities did maintain red light cameras, when I got a ticket thanks to one in Fort Worth. But in recent years, the Texas Legislature has actually worked to dismantle such systems. That type of surveillance doesn’t jibe with the Texas ethos of personal liberties.
Personal liberties are not limited to Texas. Indeed, they’re a cornerstone of American society, and prevalent in the western European ethos as well.
As westerners, we are accustomed to a certain brand of freedom. To having room to roam, free of prejudice.
I, as much as anyone, know the benefit of personal liberty. It hasn’t just allowed me to skirt a traffic ticket or two. It also allowed me to move to Texas as a young adult so that I could chase my dreams.
If I had grown up in Asia, the Middle East or Africa, there would have been plenty of stigma behind such a move. There is a longstanding expectation of familial collectivism in those societies — an obligation to support one’s relatives over time and remain in close proximity to them. Relocating thousands of miles away to start anew would certainly raise eyebrows.
But not in America. In America, personal liberty reigns supreme. Or at least it did until recently.
The global pandemic has forced our society to retrench. To keep a lethal virus from spreading unchecked, we’ve had to put some short-term burdens in place. State and local governments have closed businesses, banned large gatherings and required people to wear protective masks — all, ostensibly, in the name of public health.
It hasn’t always gone smoothly. The mask issue, in particular, has become a flashpoint. Some have refused to comply with the order, citing personal liberties. Some business owners have done the same in the face of forced closures. And many people have thrown parties that willfully violated bans on large gatherings.
All of this has led to a new definition of personal liberty. In a pandemic era, the phrase refers to selfish petulance. To grown men and women throwing temper tantrums when they’re asked to sacrifice for the common good. To the worst in us, not the best in us.
To be sure, these recent actions show more of what’s wrong with America than what’s right with it. They’re not a good look.
But they represent a narrow view of personal liberty. And we need to see the entire picture.
Let’s go back to that moment when I was sure a traffic ticket was headed my way.
I took it a bit slower on the roads of Midland. And I would slam on my brakes every time I saw a yellow light ahead of me.
I was driving in fear. Out of a sense of financial survival, yes. But also out of skepticism toward Big Brother.
And yet, such changes didn’t make me a safer driver. My hard braking ahead of an intersection increased the chances I’d be rear-ended by another vehicle. And all that time I was taking it slow, I was preoccupied with the thought of another traffic camera somewhere, or a potential yellow light a half mile down the road.
Looking back, it’s a minor miracle that I didn’t get into a wreck during that time.
This incident underscores why personal liberty is so important to me. And to our society as a whole.
For without that benefit of the doubt, that implicit trust, problems are inevitable.
Sure, people are more compliant with the rules when there is constant oversight. But the sense of paranoia that accompanies it can prove to be a powerful distraction.
This distraction sets in like a fog. And so, people are less effective at the task at hand. They’re less creative, less adventurous and less capable of handling the myriad dangers of everyday life.
So no, Big Brother is not the solution. We need some semblance of personal liberty in our lives.
Now, such empowerment does come with responsibility. In times of crisis, we should be using our personal liberty for something more sensible making a scene in a grocery store. We should focus that energy on the common good instead.
Yet, even with that caveat, personal liberty is a crucial component of who we are. It doesn’t belong on the chopping block, even when the going gets tough.
So, let’s not throw out the baby with the bathwater.
Our health and safety are paramount, both in the moment and for the long haul. But we don’t need to abandon the principle of personal liberty to protect them. We just need better judgment.
Let’s resolve to find it.