Wednesday, September 14, 2011

Highway Fatalities As Seen From 30,000 Feet

I flew from Pittsburgh to San Diego on September 10th. Expecting tightened security and a few extra hassles, I made it to the airport a little early. Getting my ticket and taking off my shoes for the TSA, however, took no longer than normal, so I had some time to kill before the boarding for my plane in Pittsburgh. I also had a layover of several hours in Philadelphia.
            While I grabbed a sandwich or tried to read the paperback that I brought along for the trip, the large flat screen TVs in the waiting areas and restaurants displayed broadcasts of the 9-11 tributes and memorials. There were solemn processions, and in speeches we were told that we were “forever changed” by the events of that day ten years ago. Great slabs of granite now stand in New York City and a field in Pennsylvania inscribed with the names of people who died in the terrorist attacks that day.
Now, keeping in mind that the last thing a person getting on a plane wants to be reminded of are large jets being flown into large buildings, all the 9-11 events got me wondering as to how we think about this tragedy in relation to what I consider a greater tragedy. Each year more than 30,000 Americans die in traffic accidents.[i] That number of deaths is roughly equivalent to a 9-11 happening every month. Like 9-11, these deaths are unpredictable and violent, and they cut across all demographics, killing old and young, rich and poor.
            Watching the tributes of 9-11, it is not a big stretch of logic to assume that, if we value life as we say we do, each month we would gather our president, vice president, and former presidents to make speeches honoring those killed in car crashes, that each month granite slabs with the names of the dead would be dedicated along our roads and highways, that each month there would be wall to wall television coverage of memorial events commemorating those who lost their lives on this country’s roads.
            OK, I recognize the difference. 9-11 was a murderous terrorist attack, and the other deaths are summation of hundreds of accidents that happen every day. There is no sinister intent to the traffic deaths. People simply die when cars and trucks crash. But how is it that we are so blithely blasé about so many people dying? The same number of people succumbing from a communicable disease would be considered a frightening epidemic. Terrorists killing the same number of people would generate comparisons with the Holocaust. The fear generated by terrorism on this scale or an epidemic of this size would paralyze our society.
            But we still get in our cars and drive to work and take the kids to school. Sometimes we’re stuck in traffic on the freeway, and as we inch up past the flashing lights, police cars, and tow trucks, we always glance over to see the smashed headlights and wonder if there was anyone killed.
Our reaction to these deaths does not make sense.
The formula for the airport TSA is pretty simple: keep bombs, weapons, sharp objects, and crazy fanatics off airplanes. Road safety is more complicated. There are millions of drivers who are running late for work, distracted by cell phones, or simply aren’t fully paying attention to moving a vehicle down the road. Add to this the testosterone of teenagers, alcohol and other drugs, heavy rain, fog, ice, and snow and you can see that it is not an easy task to keep us safe on our highways.
But we have more than 50,000 TSA agents at our nation’s airports.[ii] And we spend about $75 billion annually on what is termed “homeland security.”[iii] What if we were to dedicate the same amount of resources and spend the same amount of money to make sure that cars don’t run into each other or run into pedestrians and cyclists? What if we were to have the same sort of vigilance for drivers as we do for airplane passengers? Taking off our shoes and belts and submitting to the intense scrutiny of the TSA, would we be willing to submit to similar routines to drive our children safely to school? By the arithmetic of 9-11, if a similar investment and scrutiny were to reduce highway fatalities by a quarter – saving 7,500 lives, more than twice the number killed on 9-11 – it would be worth every penny.
But perhaps there is nothing we can do to end this carnage. Perhaps these deaths, killing the equivalent of the population of Juneau, Alaska every year, are the price we pay for the ability to travel conveniently, quickly, and autonomously. But after I spent a day in which my safe travel across the country was ensured by an army TSA agents and the investment of billions, only to be left amid cell phoning, tailgating, make up applying drivers as I motored from the airport back to my home, it’s at least a good question to ask.

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