Back in 2005, our Congressional kleptocrats snuck an obscure provision into a military spending bill that, in effect, creates the first national ID card in U.S. history.
The "REAL ID" Act imposes security, authentication, and issuance standards for American state driver's licenses and state ID cards. But as I pointed out in a previous blog entry, the most threatening aspect of the Real ID initiative is its creation of 50 inter-connected state databases to include details on nearly 250 million licensed drivers. Each state must provide electronic access to all other states to information contained in its motor vehicle database.
While no state has yet to comply with the Real ID Act's security and authentication standards, this database, or at least a part of it, is already up and running. Before renewing your driver's license, your state Motor Vehicles Department must now check your driving record in all 50 states. If you have an outstanding violation in any other state—even an unpaid speeding ticket from decades ago—you won't get your new license. And, you may have to negotiate a bureaucratic labyrinth worthy of a Kafka novel to resolve the problem.
I recently read in Liberty magazine about the experiences of Jim Walsh, a resident of the state of Washington, when he tried to renew his driver's license. He couldn't, because computer records from Massachusetts revealed a 20-year-old unpaid speeding ticket. In fact, Jim had paid the ticket, but he couldn't produce a canceled check from 1988.
Here's what he's had to go through so far to get the problem resolved.
First, Jim called the Massachusetts Registry of Motor Vehicles (MRMV) to see if their records indicated that, in fact, the ticket had never been paid. After waiting for 90 minutes on hold, a rude clerk confirmed that unfortunate "fact." Nor could the clerk accept a second payment. He would have to send in another check to the county court that issued the ticket.
Next, Jim contacted the appropriate county court in Massachusetts. A clerk helpfully provided instructions on how to pay the ticket a second time. After receiving Jim's duplicate payment, the county court sent a payment confirmation to the MRMV.
Now it was time to call the MRMV again. After another extended period on hold, another rude clerk told Jim that the payment confirmation didn't match the required Department of Homeland Security format. To have the payment acknowledged in the required format, Jim would have to produce a court order issued by a judge in the county where the ticket was issued.
It was time for another call to the county clerk. It would be no problem to request a judge to issue the court order. However, Jim would need to make a personal appearance before a judge to request the court order. Since Massachusetts is 2,500 miles from the state of Washington, this would require an overnight trip and several hundred dollars in travel expenses.
When Liberty published this article, Jim still hadn't been able to renew his driver's license. The court clerk in Massachusetts suggested that it might be possible for Jim to hire a local attorney in lieu of a court order to satisfy the MRMV. The attorney could present the MRMV with a sworn statement that the receipt from the county, in fact, represented proof of payment. It might also be possible to take the receipt marked "paid" to the Washington Department of Motor Vehicles to see if it would be possible to bypass the Real ID database.
But there were no guarantees. Jim's ability to operate a motor vehicle legally rests in the hands of unaccountable bureaucrats. (I've yet to hear back from Liberty as to whether Jim's heroic efforts were, in fact, successful.)
Benjamin Franklin warned us more than two centuries ago that, ""He who sacrifices liberty for security deserves neither security nor liberty." As I've written previously, there's no indication any national ID initiative has ever improved security. And, as this sordid tale of bureaucracy run amok illustrates, it's already thwarting our shrinking liberty.
Copyright © 2008 by Mark Nestmann
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