The Health Divide: The stress of living under constant surveillance
In Tulsa, Oklahoma, police recently expanded the use of Flock cameras after a yearlong test run. When local media compared the camera locations with the city’s racial demographics, a troubling pattern emerged: Most of the cameras are concentrated in majority Black and Hispanic neighborhoods, while wealthier, predominantly white areas have few — if any. (The police department refused to release the full camera map publicly.)
This not only creates an imbalance in privacy but may also impact the health of a community.
If surveillance technology disproportionately targets certain communities, how can residents expect equal treatment or fair outcomes? Black and Latino communities in the United States are already heavily policed, and technologies like Flock cameras risk deepening the racial disparities that already exist within the criminal legal system.
More surveillance of vehicles in Black and Hispanic neighborhoods can contribute to more police stops, more reports of suspicious activity, and elevated crime stats, which are then used to justify placing even more cameras in communities already heavily policed.
Supporters argue the cameras are simply tools in the fight against crime. Critics argue that the bigger question is who gets watched the most.
The impacts of over-surveillance extend beyond arrests and charges.
Public health researchers warn that constant monitoring can fuel anxiety, stress, and helplessness in communities already burdened by poverty, discrimination, and mistrust of law enforcement.
Imagine growing up in a neighborhood where cameras track every car entering and leaving, police routinely patrol the streets, and residents constantly feel watched. Over time, that kind of environment can create chronic stress, which researchers have linked to high blood pressure, depression, anxiety, and other serious health problems.
For many Black and Hispanic residents, this debate is about more than privacy. It is about the emotional toll of feeling that your neighborhood is under suspicion rather than a community worthy of investment and support.
In that sense, over-surveillance can contribute to the broader set of social forces and stresses that shapes how long and how well people live.
That is why the debate surrounding Flock cameras cannot focus solely on crime prevention. It’s also a debate about public health, civil rights, and the kind of relationship cities want to have with the communities they claim to serve.
Cities are pushing back
The use of Flock cameras has exploded nationwide. But as the Trump administration intensified immigration enforcement efforts, growing numbers of cities began reconsidering whether the technology creates the potential for mass surveillance or could aid federal deportation efforts.
Some cities chose to keep the cameras, arguing that public safety concerns outweighed privacy fears. Others decided the risks were too great.
According to NPR, Flagstaff, Arizona; Cambridge, Massachusetts; Eugene, Oregon; and Santa Cruz, California, are among at least 30 local governments that have either deactivated Flock cameras or canceled contracts since the beginning of 2025 — much of that activity has occurred within the past few months.
Flock’s AI-powered cameras do more than read license plates. The technology also catalogs details such as vehicle make, model, and color, allowing law enforcement agencies across the country to search vehicle sightings across jurisdictions nationwide.
Civil liberties advocates warn that the technology’s reach is expanding even further.
According to the ACLU and reporting from 404 Media that draws on leaked Flock documents, the company is working to connect its surveillance systems to commercial data brokers that provide services such as “people lookup.” While the company has long argued its cameras do not collect personally identifiable information, critics say that claim has always been misleading because license plates can easily be connected to specific individuals.
According to the documents, the company appears to be moving toward directly linking vehicle surveillance to personal identity information — giving police the ability to “jump from license plate reader to person” with increasing ease.
The question is no longer whether the technology works. The bigger issue is whether Americans are comfortable with what the technology could mean for their neighborhoods.
This is a story that warrants ongoing coverage, particularly the implications for the health and well-being of those living in impacted communities. Journalists should consider spending time talking directly with residents living in heavily monitored neighborhoods to hear whether the cameras make them feel safer — or simply more anxious.
Reporters might also examine whether Black and Hispanic neighborhoods are receiving a disproportionate share of surveillance cameras compared with wealthier communities. Comparing camera placement with race, income, and health outcomes could reveal troubling disparities.
This coverage should also grapple with the biggest question of all:
Are cities truly trying to keep vulnerable communities safe, or are they simply becoming more concerned with monitoring them?
We’re excited to share that “The Health Divide” column has been nominated for a 2026 NABJ Salute to Excellence Award in the “Digital Media — Commentary/Weblog” category. The winner will be announced on Aug. 15 at the organization’s national convention in Atlanta.