Stopping Distractions the Hard Way — Because the Easy Way Isn’t Working

Driver’s education is profoundly important in reducing driving-related deaths. But it’s not just the “rules of the road” part of driver education that is important. That part is complicated — I didn’t pass my first written driving test, which required me to know such details as when you may legally block an intersection (never) and which lane can be entered within 200 feet of an intersection before turning right (a bike lane). But with experience, those rules get easier to apply.

One underappreciated value of driver education is helping people understand the dangers of distracted driving. We all spend a lot of time behind the wheel, and driving can start to feel almost automatic. Our world is filled with pressures to multitask. We can put away dishes while we talk to a friend. We answer email during a meeting. Multitasking isn’t optional in lots of jobs, but instead seems to be expected.

Driving is already a “multi-tasking” experience, because it requires drivers to pay attention to many things, all at once. But cars are built in a way to split drivers’ attention. We listen to music, we talk on the phone, we look at screens with maps, we are given real-time data about how our car is performing, and all of that takes attention away from the environment around us.

I first appreciated the dangers of distracted driving when I was a young child. One memory sticks with me as vividly as if it happened this morning. My mother was driving me to some gathering with friends (that part of the story is one thing I don’t remember), but she was frazzled about some problem with her work. I was young, maybe five or six years old, and the world of adults was a strange and mysterious place. But I could tell she was distracted as we drove through our quiet residential neighborhood. I sat in the back seat because it was safer place to be, even though I desperately wanted to be up front.

From my back seat, I could see her glancing down at her phone. She was reading something, and then typing responses, all while we cruised past houses with people playing outside, past bike riders and dog walkers, though busy streets choked with traffic. I didn’t know anything about how to drive, but I knew something was wrong. Driving seemed scary and complicated, it seemed like a bad idea to be doing something like sending messages when you waited at a traffic light.

I didn’t say anything to my mother that day, but the memory stuck with me. When I began to drive myself, I felt the same temptation to multi-task. But I knew the dangers, and I took steps to resist the temptation. I put my phone out of reach. I turn off the option of notifying me about incoming text messages. I know I’m no stronger than anyone else, so I take real, concrete steps to keep myself (and everyone else on the road) safe.

It is tempting to say that that education alone is not enough, but that we should instead impose additional limits on how many distractions are allowed in our cars. For example, many cars have eliminated the option of displaying incoming text messages, but some people might suggest we should prevent even notifications from popping up.

Unfortunately, that is a losing strategy. People want the distractions. Driving becomes a routine task after a while, and almost a chore. And, because driving is a chore, people want something, anything, to distract them. It is impossible to guarantee a distraction-free space inside a car. Even a conversation with a friend in the passenger seat is a distraction, and no one would argue we should outlaw those conversations. And a cell phone might not be connected to a car, but it can still be read while it sits on the passenger seat. The solution is not to limit how cars are built.

There is, however, one change that could keep our roads safer — if people were willing to do it. Modern cell phones know whether they are moving or stationary. It would be entirely possible for cell phones to have their texting function disabled while moving above a certain speed. That technology already exists, but at the moment, cell phone manufacturers and wireless companies have not taken that step. And they will not do so unless they are required to do so.

Would that be a perfect system? No, not even close. There would be workarounds and hacks and maybe even apps that would trick the phone into thinking it was standing still. We would also need to think about whether passengers should be able to still send and receive text messages, and new technology might be needed to determine how to make that distinction.

Would people hate that change? They would. But would it save lives? It would.

If my proposal were adopted, many people would be outraged at the inconvenience. We therefore need to have an honest discussion about how much we value our distractions. Personally, I find the number of annual driving-related deaths to be a national tragedy. I worry for my friends, my family, and for people who have done nothing more than cross the street in a well-marked crosswalk. I also know that we are all free to make our own choices. But when those choices put the lives of others at risk, we owe it to ourselves to pause and reflect what is most important. The answer is easy — the messages can wait.