Local governments across the country are embracing Automated License Plate Readers (ALPRs) to fight crime. At the center of this trend is Flock Safety, an Atlanta-based tech startup. Flock promises an easy solution to property crime by installing AI-powered cameras on public roads. It sounds like a reasonable upgrade to traditional policing, but a massive backlash is growing over civil liberties and the misuse of public trust.
This debate is not new. Nearly two decades ago, when I served as the elected president of the Queen Anne’s County Commission in Maryland, our board faced a similar dilemma. A traffic camera company wanted to track speeding vehicles’ license plates in the county, and they also entertained proposing those crossing the Preston Lane Memorial Bay Bridge. The pitch focused entirely on safety. However, after listening to principled civil arguments from our constituents about privacy and government overreach, we shut the project down. We chose to protect individual liberty over automated tracking.
Today, the stakes are much higher. These are not standard traffic cameras that only take photos when a driver runs a red light. Flock cameras use artificial intelligence to capture a unique digital fingerprint of every vehicle. They log license plates, vehicle color, make, model, bumper stickers, and roof racks.
Crucially, this data feeds into a massive national database. A police officer in one state can easily track the movements of a vehicle thousands of miles away. According to the American Civil Liberties Union, Flock has deployed more than 120,000 cameras across 49 states. The system relies on a massive trade-off: the constant, warrantless tracking of millions of entirely innocent citizens.
This lack of privacy boundaries has led to real-world consequences. Numerous reports show police officers using the network for unauthorized personal surveillance. Officers in multiple states have been investigated or fired after using the database to stalk ex-partners or acquaintances.
Furthermore, the centralized data has drawn fire from both sides of the political spectrum. Local communities have discovered that federal agencies can tap into this data without local voter consent. The Electronic Frontier Foundation warns that these networks create an invasive life-tracking map that is highly susceptible to grave abuses.
The reaction to these risks is no longer just a debate. It has turned into a practical rebellion. Across the United States, citizens have begun vandalizing or physically cutting down cameras. On the political front, the tide is turning just as fast.
Advocacy groups report that over 200 cities, counties, and local governments have terminated their contracts or deactivated their networks. This resistance cuts across partisan lines. Deep-blue cities like Los Angeles and Cambridge have canceled their contracts. At the same time, conservative communities and state governments are pushing back. Florida recently restricted local police from deploying these readers on state highways, while cities like Tempe, Arizona, shut down their programs due to public outcry.
In response to this pressure, Flock Safety recently shortened its default data retention period from 30 days to seven days. While this change shows the company recognizes its public relations crisis, it does not solve the core issue.
FLOCK SAFETY CALLED ITS CRITICS ‘TERRORISTS.’ NOW IT WANTS TO BE YOUR PRIVACY SAVIOR
Public safety is a fundamental duty of local government, but it should not require permanent surveillance. When technology allows bad actors to stalk citizens and lets federal agencies bypass local oversight, the system is broken.
The stance we took in Queen Anne’s County twenty years ago is becoming the standard across the nation. As more local contracts come up for renewal, lawmakers face a clear choice: protect the constitutional privacy rights of their constituents, or continue funding a private national surveillance grid.
Eric Wargotz is a policy, analyst and writer, practicing physician, former U.S. Senate nominee, and former elected president of the Queen Anne’s County Board of Commissioners in Maryland. Opinions are his own.