“Road rage” is now an official disease — Intermittent Explosive
Disorder, the shrinks call it. According to a study funded by the
National Institutes of Mental Health, something on the order of 16
million Americans suffer from IED. Inadequate production of the
brain chemical serotonin leaves victims unable to properly regulate
their moods — and thus, their behavior. Confronted with
chock-a-block traffic, left-lane hogs, etc., they gesture rudely,
hurl insults — or worse.
But is IED really a malady? Or just the natural expression of a
heavily overtaxed fight-or-flight mechanism intrinsic to human
nature? In other words, is it reasonable to be stressed out and
angry as a consequence of having to sit and stew in endless
traffic?
Or is it in fact a sign of health that more and more of us chafe
at being caught like lab rats in a continent-sized Skinner Box —
and manifest our natural frustrations by leaning on our horns,
stomping on the gas and doing whatever’s in our power to flee?
Think on it for a moment: Modern humans are essentially the same
as our ancestors of 100,000 years ago; widespread (and inescapable)
gridlock is a phenomenon of the past 50 years. In most parts of the
country, it is a younger phenomenon than that. We were not bred for
this sort of abuse. We have not had time to evolve new mechanisms
(such as an internal morphine release gland, let’s say) to cope
with an environment our hunter-gatherer systems are completely
ill-equipped to deal with. The chaos; the unremitting noise — the
slow boil of constant pressure with no escape valve. The flood of
stress hormones that rush into our bloodstream, finding no
productive outlet. Of course we want to shout. Or even hit
something. The temptation to use our car as a battering ram is hard
to beat back down into the nether regions of our subconscious.
We respond, in other words, very much in the way you’d expect a
cornered animal to respond. We get angry. Our vision narrows to the
singular focus of getting through — and getting away. Forms of
civility become a hobble; like passengers on a doomed ocean liner,
the situation devolves to every man for himself. Sink or swim —
even if you have to push someone else under to keep your own head
above water.
It’s ugly and unpleasant — but it’s the reality. Being quiet
and polite is not only increasingly difficult, it’s apt to leave
one holding the short end of the stick (or at least, constantly
abused by fellow — and more aggressively self-preserving —
motorists).
But it’s not a “disease.”
Becoming stressed out — and ultimately, enraged — is an
entirely predictable, entirely natural reaction to an unnatural
situation. Sitting in traffic for a couple of hours every day is
madness. Willfully subjecting ourselves to this and not expecting
negative consequences is like failing to make the connection
between a pack-a-day habit and emphysema. Stop smoking — or better
yet, never start — and the problem disappears.
We don’t need a pill.
We do need to recognize a dangerous and unhealthy situation for
what it is — and take steps to ameliorate it. That would include
encouraging people to live closer to where they work — or
telecommuting — instead of encouraging them (via short-sighted
land-use policies) to buy a home in some distant suburb.
That’s what’s crazy — not the supposed sufferers of
“Intermittent Explosive Disorder.” If we want less of it, we need
to address the underlying causes — not focus on disease-ifying the
all-too-predictable symptoms.
Failing that, subscribe to satellite radio, get some books on
tape — whatever it takes to get your mind (and your glands) off
the galling prospect of another daily grind. Your blood pressure
will thank you. And you might just avoid a fender-bender, fistfight
— or worse.
