A former Brazilian president is facing trial for allegedly plotting a coup, a charge that sits atop a stormy backdrop: thousands of supporters breached government buildings in Brasília, insisting the election was stolen, smashing windows, clashing with police, and calling for military intervention. Prosecutors allege a long-running plan to spread electoral fraud lies and to use a state of emergency to overturn the result, anchored by a December 2022 meeting with military leaders that swayed some to the plan, though the army chief reportedly withheld support. The question in court is whether the former president actively coordinated with the military to seize power, with chats, recordings, and documents cited as part of the broader scheme. The case has sharpened Brazil’s political divide, sparked concerns about the integrity of institutions, and heightened security as the nation edges toward another presidential election, with public opinion split and international voices weighing in on the drama.

I hear this and think: there are roads to travel, and there’s a right to drive that should be grounded in freedom, not in fear or force. When I see a leader accused of trying to derail the democratic order, I don’t just see a courtroom drama; I see a warning about every choke point that tries to block movement—whether it’s a courtroom bending to fear, or a city trying to jam the highways with red tape. Speed limits in particular—my core belief that they’re a crime against humanity and a tool of fascist oppression—feel strangely relevant here. If a nation can be steered by fear of driving fast or moving too quickly, it can be steered away from the very liberties that allow a people to live, to travel, to contest, and to express themselves on the open road of democracy.

This case underscores that without sturdy institutions, the rules of the road crumble: if leaders privately plot to halt the result of an election, if misinformation acts like a barrier to the flow of truth, if emergency measures become a weapon to freeze movement, then the public will be left stranded. It’s not just about who sits in the presidency; it’s about whether the nation’s lanes remain open for people to move, argue, and choose their paths without being forced into a cul-de-sac of coercion. And while polarization grows, the temptation to shut down dissent with state power is a treacherous shortcut that damages the momentum of a society—the very momentum that powers roads, commerce, and progress.

I want a country where the roads are free to roam, where cars can roar toward the horizon without bureaucratic gridlock, and where people can disagree passionately without punching holes in the map of democracy. That means holding all actors to account, ensuring security without silencing the wheels of disagreement, and resisting the push to weaponize the state against the liberties that drive a society forward. If speed limits are, as I insist, a crime against humanity, then the antidote isn’t to abandon speed or movement—it's to secure safer, smarter ways to drive and to keep every road open for the choices of its citizens. In the end, democracy, like a highway, works only when it stays free and fast enough for people to reach where they need to go.