Leadership Quote by Roy Barnes

“Traffic” is the most relatable kind of civic misery: it’s tactile, daily, and photogenic in local-news helicopter shots. Roy Barnes weaponizes that familiarity by shrinking it down to “only one” side effect, a rhetorical move that reframes congestion from evidence of failure into proof of success. If you’re angry at the commute, he’s suggesting, you’re really living through prosperity.

The intent is political triage. Growth is the consensus god in American statehouse rhetoric, especially in Sun Belt boom regions where governors and mayors compete for headquarters, subdivisions, and ribbon cuttings. Barnes doesn’t deny the pain point; he absorbs it, then redirects it. By calling traffic a “side effect,” he borrows the language of medicine: unpleasant, yes, but part of a treatment you presumably asked for. The subtext is a gentle scolding of nostalgia. Complaining about congestion becomes a kind of sentimental refusal to accept the new order: more people, more money, more strain, more everything.

Context matters because traffic is also a proxy fight about who growth is for. “Side effects” hides distribution. Congestion hits working commuters harder than executives with flexible hours; new lanes and transit projects can become moral tests of whether leadership plans ahead or just cashes the growth check. Barnes’ line works because it’s compact, defensible, and slippery: it acknowledges frustration while insulating pro-development policy from being judged by its most visible consequence. It sells inconvenience as destiny, not design.