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Why I Love the D.M.V. — And You Should, TooSkip to Comments
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Opinion

People Hate on
the D.M.V.

People Hate on
the D.M.V.

But It’s Great.

But It’s Great.

Don’t Tell My Friends, But… is a series
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what
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You may disagree with me on a visceral level. You would not be alone. It is chic to roll your eyes at the D.M.V., to express exaggerated condolences when people say they have to renew their driver’s licenses. Even more than other government services, the D.M.V. is characterized as a bureaucratic black hole with long lines, surly clerks, inefficiencies. D.M.V. hateration is so mainstream that it made it into a children’s cartoon: In 2016, “Zootopia” anthropomorphized a pitiable sloth as a D.M.V. worker. (To the credit of those department workers’ good humor, I’ve seen a photo of that sloth posted in my local D.M.V.)

I hate the way people hate the D.M.V. I hate that it’s cool to hate it. I hate what hating the D.M.V. says about our civic imagination.

We are living in one of the most unequal periods in modern history. The gulf between the wealthy and everyone else is so wide that you’d need a private jet to cross it expeditiously. Wealthy interests have an outsize influence on our politics and our lawmaking. Corporations can buy more political influence than voters can demand for regular people. Whenever you see a radically unfit candidate running for office, you can usually find a wealthy donor making that person’s campaign viable.

In the middle, instead of fighting for equity, people who are not quite wealthy but not really poor compete with one another on razor-thin margins — to buy houses in slightly better neighborhoods, to get their children into schools with slightly higher test scores so that they can get into colleges that are slightly more prestigious. All of this scrabbling by the not quite wealthy, who are desperate not to be grouped in with the unfortunate masses, is why we cannot have nice things, like public transportation and public bathrooms and safe, free public water access. Why upgrade the subway system when you can afford a car? Why bother with financing public parks when you can buy into a master-planned community with “green space”?

This stratification is everywhere — fast passes on toll roads, exclusive access at amusement parks, so-called black car premiums on ride-share apps, private dining clubs, fast lanes for loyal customers. Americans increasingly act like public spaces are for suckers because they can pay for exclusivity instead.

The D.M.V. is so hated because it does not make status distinctions. You can’t pay to separate yourself from the masses. Everyone has to search the same cumbersome websites for the right forms. You have to compete for an appointment or show up early, whether you have a high net worth or a negative bank balance. Best of all, everybody has to wait her turn. It is inconvenient, but everyone is equally inconvenienced.

But that does not account for why it is cool to hate the D.M.V. The lowly municipal office invites eye rolls because it is one of the basic units of democracy. That invisible infrastructure is easy to stereotype as inefficient or useless precisely because most of the time it does what it is supposed to do without making a fuss. You only notice its deficiencies when it doesn’t work as it’s supposed to.

You may not have a good time at the D.M.V., sure. It could be better, but so could the long lines at Target and the customer service for your appliance warranties. If the D.M.V. is slow or inefficient, it isn’t because of the state. It is because so many D.M.V.s are chronically underfunded. Privatizing them can make service worse, as New Jersey discovered when it made the switch.

Hating on the D.M.V. is also socially acceptable because of who often works at the D.M.V. Women and people of color disproportionately work in the public sector. The D.M.V. is one of the few places where privileged people — especially privileged white people — will ever encounter a woman of color with unquestionable authority.

The D.M.V. is a beacon of equality in this country. Celebrate the place where you can watch a celebrity fill out the same forms that you do. We should revel in the fact that there is no express lane for beautiful, rich people to renew their licenses. When you sit in those hard chairs waiting for your number to appear on a screen, you should be delighted that no one else is sitting in a cushier chair. Look around that room and see your fellow Americans, the huddled masses, gathered at the feet of a woman asking for the paperwork to be a law-abiding citizen.

See it, love it and admit that actually, the D.M.V. is pretty good.