What Being Denied for a Driver’s License Made Me Think about Guns
Yesterday, I went to get a new driver’s license and was denied.
Let’s rewind a little. Although I moved back to Utah over a year ago, I’m just now getting around to changing my license because my California license expires on my birthday this Saturday. Yes, I know that technically I should have gotten my new ID immediately after moving. And I should have started this process earlier, but that’s not the point here.
The reason my application was denied is that the last time I renewed my old Utah license, I answered “yes” on the renewal form to having a mental illness, which I forgot I had done.
I’ve been diagnosed with generalized anxiety disorder and have experienced bouts of depression throughout my life. I deal with the results of my illness nearly every day, but through therapy, medication, and self-care, both my doctors and I consider my situation to be sufficiently managed. My doc will surely sign off on the paper, clearing me to drive. I’m not worried, nor am I ashamed of the diagnoses. I do recognize the existing stigma around mental health issues — but again, that’s another story. This is about guns (I’m getting there.)
The point is that because I answered truthfully on that form, I’m required by the Utah government to have a physician “sign off” on my ability to drive unimpaired. Essentially, the state doesn’t want people driving vehicles if they have a severe illness that could endanger themselves or others.
Honestly, to me this is no big deal. It’s more of a minor annoyance, requiring me to trek throughout the valley from the DMV, to my doctors office, then to the doctor again to pick up the form (of course they can’t use email!), and then back to the DMV.
Here’s the thing that has stuck in my mind: This obstacle was placed in front of me for a (presumably) justifiable purpose: the public’s safety. If I were seriously impaired, according to the law, I shouldn’t be able to get a license, at least not without a doctor’s approval.
But if I wanted to purchase an automatic weapon from a Utah gun shop (or just about anywhere else), this roadblock would be nonexistent. I could walk in, ask for the gun, and walk out — practically no questions asked.
The main argument I anticipate being brought up at this point is the legal difference between driving a vehicle and owning a firearm — the former is a privilege granted by the government while the latter is considered a constitutional right — and it’s a good case to be made. But I personally can’t find a reasonably justified argument for them to be treated differently like this, at least when it comes to checking to ensure my mental health won’t endanger myself or other people. Limits are placed on our freedoms — even constitutionally protected ones — when there is a serious threat to the lives of Americans.
A car is designed for the purpose of carrying people and things long distances at high speeds. A car also happens to be potentially dangerous if a driver is careless or impaired, say, because of a severe mental illness. To me, it makes sense that we would allow our government to restrict driving privileges to protect public safety, within reasonable boundaries.
A gun is designed for one purpose: to kill. People use weapons for other reasons, of course, like sport and recreation — and that’s fine by me! But the reason guns were created and haven’t been replaced by less lethal objects is because they do that one thing so effectively. They kill things exceptionally well.
I know people will disagree with me, and that’s OK. But I felt the need to share this perspective, because I hadn’t thought of it in such real-to-my-life terms before.
If I can accept that I have to jump through a couple extra hoops to get a license to drive, I sure as hell should be able to accept the same to purchase a weapon.
