Rene Varek, CEO of Amserv, has written an essay titled "The Car as an Icon of Freedom." It is a poetic, metaphor-laden defense of the automobile — a machine he calls a "symbol of freedom," even "the modern counterpart of the Gothic cathedral." But what Varek romanticizes is not freedom. It is dependency: economic, environmental, infrastructural and cultural. And that dependency did not emerge organically. It was created deliberately, forcefully and through conspiratorial tactics, as the historical experience of the United States shows.

A car is not a guarantee of freedom but a privilege that applies only to certain people. To own and drive one, you must be young enough, healthy enough, able to see, capable of driving, licensed and financially secure. What happens when you can no longer sit behind the wheel? When your health declines? When you lose your eyesight? When you are simply no longer able to drive? Do you then lose your freedom?

True freedom is being able to move even when you cannot drive. That means reliable, accessible and well-planned public transportation. That means urban space designed not on the assumption that you own a car, but on the assumption that you are a human being — at any stage of life, in any condition. This is why public transportation is the most democratic form of freedom. It does not distinguish between young and old, rich and poor, sighted and blind. It does not discriminate. The car, on the other hand, often does.

Destruction of US public transport: How the car business destroyed freedom and how it's being restored now

The United States, which Varek highlights as the birthplace of car culture, was in fact a leader in public transportation in the early 20th century. American cities such as Los Angeles, Detroit and Philadelphia had functional and efficient tram and transit networks. People did not need personal cars because trains, trams and trolleys ran frequently and reliably. This did not sit well with corporations that wanted to sell more cars and more oil.

Everything changed consciously and deliberately when General Motors, Standard Oil, Firestone and other large corporations formed the so-called "National City Lines" consortium, which bought up tram companies and then shut them down. In place of tram lines, bus routes were established, often following the same network. But buses proved less reliable and eventually even those disappeared. The result was a car culture that became an obsession — not born of freedom, but of corporate interest and manipulated politics.

Ironically, the same American cities where the promise of car freedom was supposed to solve all problems are now trying to rebuild public transit. New York is investing in expanding the subway, Los Angeles is bringing back trams and even car-centric Houston is developing bus corridors and pedestrian streets. Detroit, the car capital itself, is constructing a new rail line.

This is not a nostalgia-driven movement but a necessity. Car-centeredness has brought urban decay, traffic jams, environmental pollution and social isolation. As Los Angeles shows, it is far more expensive to rebuild destroyed infrastructure than to maintain it. Public transportation infrastructure — including rail lines and tram routes — is a form of wealth we pass on to the next generation. It must be cared for.

In Europe's major cities, including Berlin, Copenhagen, Vienna and Paris, the car is not a symbol of freedom but simply one choice among many. Public transit is fast, frequent and accessible. Tokyo, Seoul and Hong Kong demonstrate how far it is possible to go when cities are designed for people rather than machines. These cities do not speak about freedom rhetorically — they offer real options.

That is something a car-centered world does not do. Without a car, you are marginalized. If you cannot drive — because you are old, ill, blind or poor — you are excluded from freedom.

A car can be a costly necessity in the countryside, but it's not freedom and rather a trap in Tallinn

Of course, things are different in rural areas — where public transportation is poor, people lack the freedom to choose and are forced to drive. Low-income residents are thus compelled to spend a large share of their household budgets on fuel. In the countryside, car dependency and energy poverty are especially severe.

In Estonia's transport sector, however, most fuel is consumed in Tallinn and Harju County, where traffic is heaviest despite the availability of high-quality, free public transportation. The majority of emissions come from there as well. More than half of private car trips in Tallinn are under 10 kilometers in length. If current trends continue, the total annual mileage of vehicles will only keep increasing.

Last year, 70 people died in traffic accidents in Estonia, many of them pedestrians and cyclists. A car-centered city is dangerous, noisy, polluted and ultimately economically inefficient.

True freedom is not having to own a car

A car requires a constant supply of fuel — that is, it depends on oil, whose price, availability and geopolitics are unstable. On top of that come maintenance costs: insurance, parking, repairs, tire changes and more — expenses you must pay even when you are not driving and which not everyone can afford. Infrastructure, including road expansions and parking spaces, consumes urban land, budgets and the quality of the living environment. Cars demand constant investment and in return often give back traffic jams, stress, air pollution and danger.

Tallinn has a unique opportunity: free public transportation. This could be strengthened and further developed. If we have trams, buses and trains accessible to children, pensioners, people with disabilities and anyone without a license or car, that is true freedom. A society that leaves no one behind.

When you can no longer drive — because of age, illness or any other reason — the car will not help you. Well-functioning public transit will. Bike paths will. A city designed for pedestrians will.

The car is not rebellion; it is the status quo. For decades, its sales have been driven by appeals to sexuality, rhetoric of freedom and myths of modernity — but it is a myth. The car is not an escape if you are stuck in traffic every day. It is not freedom if you have no other choice.

Nor is the car a cathedral. It is a machine that burns oil, generates noise and kills people, turning cities into closed-off engine rooms. If anything is a cultural act, it is restoring the city for people.

Freedom is a choice

The well-known sociologist Cara Daggett describes Rene Varek's ideological reverence for the car as part of what she calls petro-masculinity — a reactionary identity that treats the use of fossil fuels as central to masculine autonomy, domination and freedom. Petro-masculinity is not just about preferring to drive. It also manifests in hostility toward climate policy, public transportation and any collective solutions, since these are seen as threats to a deeply masculine illusion of control.

It is time to stop worshipping the car as an icon and start valuing people, communities and the environment. Estonia's population is already small enough — surely it would be better if people weren't dying every week in car accidents.

Rene Varek says the car represents individual freedom. But freedom without choice is not freedom. If our cities and our society do not support mobility without a car, then this is not freedom — it is dependency. The car should not be a precondition for life, but one option among many and never the only one.

True freedom is freedom of access — the right to move regardless of age, income or whether you own a car.

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