01.20.04

Security As Theater

Taxiing down the runway yesterday on a New York-bound Finnair flight from Helsinki, the steward made the following announcement:

"The Transportation Security Administration has asked us to advise passengers that congregating in groups during the flight is prohibited. Please note that this includes standing in line to use the airplane lavatories."

Airline security is rapidly becoming a theater of the absurd. It's hard to imagine how the bureaucrats at home can top this effort, but at this point I have every confidence in their abilities. Nevertheless, I can't resist the temptation (fool!) to try and apply rational thought.

What threat, specifically, is this measure addressing? Are hijackers supposed to be deterred from getting up and storming the cabin because of an in-flight announcement? ("Alas, Mahmoud - foiled again! We must remain seated"). How is this measure in any way enforceable? Is the pilot expected to divert the flight? Perform a barrel roll at the first sign of a pee queue? And how, exactly, is the sight of multiple passengers simultaneously lunging from their seats towards a suddenly available lavatory an attractive alternative to having a little group milling about by one of the galleys?

I was filled with curiousity to see if the pilot would perform an emergency landing at Reykjavik after the meal service, but of course (inevitably) everyone just ignored the directive, and let the passengers empty their bladders in peace. On an eight-hour flight with free alcohol and predominantly Russian passengers, there was just no other solution. Even the few people who understand the announcement were in no condition to comply with it after a few glasses of cognac and orange juice.

(Incidentally, who apart from Russians drinks cognac with orange juice? Why has the world remained silent about such barbarity?)

On arrival at JFK, I got to see many of the same passengers who had failed to commit violent acts in the pee queue waiting in line to be photographed and fingerprinted in the second-class non-US citizen line. The immigration agents, who had already had their fill of fingerprinting confused, tired foreign people, were perhaps understandably gruff. But the impression they created was awful - grabbing hands, barking instructions at people who did not speak English, physically pushing little old ladies into camera range. The line was long and moved slowly, another hurdle for people who had already endured a non-refundable hundred dollar visa application fee, long questionnaires at the embassy, two immigration and customs forms to be filled out in flight, a stern video about customs procedures before landing, and of course the majestic Soviet-style dinginess of the JFK international arrivals terminal. I felt embarrassed to be an American.

The only hint of sense in this depressing carnival came at the baggage carousel, where a friendly customs inspector was walking the Sausage Dog around, looking for contraband. The Sausage Dog is a very cute beagle who is designed to detect meat products, fruit, and other contraband that one is not supposed to bring into the country, for fears of spreading pestilence and little six-footed fauna. He is very effective - we have been busted by the Sausage Dog several times on our trips from Poland, losing whole meters of Krakow's garlic-stuffed finest - but I remain an admirer of the animal, because he really is quite friendly, and does his work with flair.

The procedure with the Sausage Dog is simple - if he takes a liking to your suitcase, you get a green A written on your entry card, and the customs inspectors at the exit gate take a closer look at what you've brought. If he gives you a free pass, you're less likely to be checked before leaving. And the handler walks the dog around while people are collecting their baggage, so there's no extra hassle for the passenger. While I was waiting for my bags, I saw the animal detect a bag of oranges, a suspicious bundle in a carry-on bag, and a live cat (legal, in a carrier, but one got the sense that the dog had strong opinions about the cat's immigration status).

It would be nice if more of our security measures could be this smart, rather just ostentatiously useless. Unfortunately, our Homeland Security Bureau has become obsessed with collecting as much information as it can, with little thought to how to use it. It is ossifying into a bureaucracy that would make the Austro-Hungarian Empire proud. And it's making many visitors' first impression of America one of fear, incompetence, and a general disrespect for human dignity. If irony hadn't been declared dead after September 11, this might be one promising place to look for it.

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