[Infowarrior] - Has the U.S. met its match in airport-security craziness?

[Richard Forno]

http://www.salon.com/tech/col/smith/2007/11/02/askthepilot252/print.html

Has the U.S. met its match in airport-security craziness?

By Patrick Smith

Nov. 02, 2007 | Come to find out, America is not the only crazy country when
it comes to airport security. Based on what happened to me in London a few
days ago, I'd say the U.K. is a close runner-up. Working a trip from
Gatwick, I was forced to remove my shoes and put my liquids into a Ziploc
bag. This is routine for passengers, but I was in full uniform at a
crew-only checkpoint. My Rollaboard and flight case were hand-searched top
to bottom, and a nearly empty, 5-ounce tube of toothpaste was confiscated
from my toiletries bag.

The Brits are jittery, and not entirely without reason. The 2006 liquid bomb
cabal (daft as its scheme may have been) was organized here, and it wasn't
that long ago that Pan Am 103 lifted off from Heathrow with its deadly
Toshiba radio. I'm willing to grant some slack, but I draw the line at
seizing empty containers from pilots.

"Why are you taking that?" I ask the guard. "There's almost nothing in
there."

"I don't know that for sure," she replies. "I can't tell how much is
inside."

The rule is 100 milliliters. I stare down at the rolled and emaciated tube.
It can't contain more than three brushings' worth of paste. I wanted to ask
this woman how she could say a thing like that and continue to take herself,
and her job, seriously.

Still, though, while it's tempting to award first prize to our European
cousins, it's our own United States that retains the crown for loopiest
behavior. Any argument was put to rest earlier this fall, when the U.S.
Department of Homeland Security presented the latest version of its "Secure
Flight" anti-terrorism program, requesting that governments hand over a
docket of personal data on all foreign airline passengers bound for the
United States. (This would affect not only commercial flights arriving in
the United States but those merely overflying U.S. territory -- an Air
Canada plane, say, flying between Toronto and the Caribbean.) This data may
include, among other things, a flier's union affiliations, reading
preferences and -- look it up yourself if you don't believe me -- sexual
habits. What somebody's sex life might have to do with blowing up a plane is
something I can't begin to fathom; how any government might actually get
wind of this information is even more troubling. Fortunately, others feel
the same way, and the details of this proposal have provoked the ire of
certain lawmakers. It remains to be seen how much of it becomes policy.

This would be the second dose of bad press for the Homeland Security hacks
in recent weeks. Last month, you might remember, the Transportation Security
Administration (TSA is a branch of DHS) got a media scolding after it came
to light that TSA airport screeners had failed to detect up to 75 percent of
phony bomb components smuggled through terminal checkpoints during tests.

I don't normally rush to the defense of TSA, but am I the only one who finds
this revelation overblown and irrelevant? This is a clear-cut case of
workers being asked to do the impossible, then criticized when they fall
short. Think for a moment about the countless ways in which dangerous
materials can be smuggled through security. A bomb component, no different
from a knife, a gun or a dangerous liquid, can be hidden, disassembled,
improvised from and/or disguised any number of ways -- most of them
undetectable. Attempting to ferret out every potential weapon is a lost
cause from the beginning. I've said it before: The dirty work of keeping
terrorists away from planes takes place out of view -- as the job of
intelligence agencies and law enforcement. Airport screening exists as a
last resort, and it should not be held responsible for failing to meet
absurd and useless standards of zero tolerance.

Not everybody agrees, I know. I'm continually startled by the number of
otherwise smart and reasonable people who believe that concourse security
actually needs to be more intrusive and rigorous. I was dismayed by a recent
installment of the PBS television show "America's Investigative Reports,"
for example, which ran an exposé about after-hours airport workers not
receiving tough-enough checkpoint scrutiny. PBS's Friday night lineup has
gone sharply downhill since the departure of Bill Moyers, but this was an
especially disappointing segment. Instead of an exposé on how easy the
system is to skirt, how about one on how misguided it is to start with?

For those who agree with me, I urge you to take a more active role. Write a
letter; complain to your representative in Congress; and when you can, speak
up. It remains my philosophy that if more people don't protest the silliness
of current procedures, things are never going to change. Contrary to what
some people think, voicing your opposition will not get you shipped to
Guantánamo or placed on a no-fly list.

I confess to having initiated my share of robust and provocative discussions
at various airport checkpoints. The latest of these took place a week ago at
a major airport on the East Coast, when yet again I was faced with the
annoying requirement that airline crew members be in uniform in order to
bypass the shoe inspection -- a policy discussed here a couple of weeks ago.

With my credentials prominently displayed and my sneakers still on, I head
for the metal detector, hoping for some of that special treatment I'd seen
on PBS.

"Hold it," snarls a guard. "You gotta take your shoes off."

"But I'm a crew member," I answer, showing the gentleman my I.D. badge and
pilot certificates.

"Yeah, but if you wanna keep your shoes on, you have to be in uniform."

"Well, OK, but how come? What difference does it make?"

"Those are the rules."

"Why, though? Am I not a crew member?"

"Those are the rules."

"I know that. But can you tell me why?"

"Those are the rules."

"Right, I know. I'm curious what the reason is. Why does having my uniform
on matter? If I take a white shirt from luggage and put it on, suddenly my
shoes aren't dangerous anymore?"

"It's protocol."

"But that's not a reason."

And that's all he's going to take. "Supervisor!" he bellows.
"Su-per-vis-or!" His voice is much louder than it needs to be, and is
obviously designed to intimidate me. I'm reminded of a child calling for his
mother to ward off a bully. "Su-per-vis-or!"

Over comes the supervisor. He's a tall, well-built guy who looks like an
ex-Marine.

I introduce myself. "I just have a question, that's all." He nods and shakes
my hand.

"This guy won't take his shoes off," interrupts the guard. "He says we have
to give him a reason." The word "reason" is snarled and sarcastic.

"Excuse me," I answer. "First, I didn't refuse to take my shoes off. I was
asking a question. And this is the United States of America. If you're going
to search a person or make him remove articles of clothing, then yes, I
think you do need to give him a reason."

I'm startled when the supervisor lets me through. "It's OK, he can pass."

His lackey gives me a look, then pulls away like he wants to go hide under
the X-ray machine.

I spend a minute or so talking with the supervisor. "I wasn't trying to be a
jerk," I tell him. "I'm just mystified as to why a uniform is more important
than actual credentials. Or maybe there is a legitimate reason ..."

"You're supposed to be in uniform, technically," he says. "But it doesn't
make any sense, I know." He shrugs and shakes his head. "Look, this is the
government. You're dealing with the government."

I have to say, that was the most refreshingly frank thing I've ever heard
from a TSA employee.