When airport security is not just security, but an exercise in humiliation

As someone who travels through Tel-Aviv and have seen young, disrespectful, cocky and racist security officers in actions. The article by Musa Budeiri is most interesting and enjoyable to read.Please enjoy.
Sami Jamil Jadallah

Musa Budeiri wrote
Mac Books, Zaa'tar & the Everlasting State of ExceptionTraveling from Jerusalem to Lod airport I am reflecting that come summer, it will be forty years since the conquest of those parts of mandated Palestine (now termed the West Bank & Gaza Strip) which had escaped Israeli control in 1948, in addition to the Syrian Heights. I calculate that if I have traveled an average four times a year from Lod and back that would make one hundred and sixty times that I have been through the various security regimes instituted by the Shin Bit at the airport. And I am still a threat.Arriving early there is only a couple of people in the line ahead of me waiting to go through the security check. I can not help overhearing the conversation taking place right in front of me between a fellow passenger who is holding a European community passport, and who, like me, is obviously a "non ethnic" European, and the young woman whose job it is to usher people to the bulky X-ray machine through which everybody has to have their luggage examined. Trying to ascertain the passenger's ethnic origins, the "usherette" is fielding the usual indirect questions which presumably are designed to avoid giving offence to "innocent" travelers. This of course requires some measure of cooperation on the part of the traveler being questioned. In this case, my fellow passenger is either oblivious of this rite, or is not in a mood to cooperate. The conversation is taking place in English, and suddenly the "usherette" asks what language the passenger speaks at home. The reply is English. Unable to accept this as it does not fit the stereotype she has already established for the person being questioned, she offers a list of languages and asks if she perhaps speaks "Indian" or some such language. The passenger seems to catch on. She makes it clear that she does not speak "Indian", but that she does speak Gujarati. This seems to mystify the questioner. So she tries a different tack. She asks what religious festivals the passenger celebrates at home. But it appears her world view is restricted to the three monotheistic creeds, because when the woman replies "Divali", there is a vacant look on her face. She then excuses herself and is replaced by another, presumably "more experienced" questioner. This is entertaining, but being an experienced "answerer" I do not anticipate much trouble navigating my way into the X-ray machine and further along the "safe to fly" process. I usually immediately confess my national/ethnic origins and point out that the European community passport I travel on is merely that, a travel document. Increasingly since September 11, I also make a declaration of a non existent religious affiliation. I always feel that perhaps coming clean, like admitting that one is an ex murderer, a past inmate of a lunatic asylum, or a reformed habitual sexual offender, would put the questioners at ease. Additionally, I am only carrying a small shoulder bag with next to nothing in it and my brand new ten days old Mac book.Not having to pretend that I celebrate Divali, or that I am in the habit of having a Hanukah Bush in my home at some date in December, I soon find myself waiting for my two items to return to my safe keeping after having journeyed through the all knowing and all seeing large X ray contraption, a rite of passage which is supposed to make me feel that air travel is safe and secure, even from myself. Once I have retrieved my luggage I proceed to the search area and two pleasant and seemingly user friendly girls begin to shower me with the VIP treatment. Not having much to examine does not stop them from doing their job thoroughly, methodically and painstakingly slowly. I am carrying one pair of trousers, one pair of pants, training shorts, digital camera, cellular, heart monitor watch & accompanying exercise strap, a bag of thyme, a book on mizrahi Jews by S‡mi Shetrit, all sorts of medical reports, and the usual assortment of pills which constitute my daily intake for a couple of weeks. Obviously, now that I think about it in retrospect, not very "convincing" luggage for a seemingly innocent passenger who already fits a suspicious "profile". Once this process is well under way, I am informed that I will not be allowed to travel with the Mac book. I am further told that it will not be possible for the Mac book to travel on the same flight. When I ask the reason for this, I am referred to another person, who abruptly tells me that she cannot divulge the reason, but that as a result of the security procedure in operation, the Mac book is not allowed to travel on the same flight as me. I ask for a written statement to this effect, and for her name. She declines both, but informs me that I can of course lodge a complaint if I so desire, and to address it to the airport authority. I ask for a receipt, but she again says she cannot give me one. I ask how the Mac book will be delivered to me when she does not know my address or even where I am traveling to. She replies that it is not her job to arrange delivery. She directs me to approach the lost and found at Heathrow airport in London and to inquire about my laptop there. When I try to protest further, she tells me that she cannot waste any more time and leaves while I am in mid sentence. I address the two women who are still leisurely entertaining themselves with the empty shoulder bag that I want to talk to the person in charge, and they inform me that I have just talked to their supervisor. By now I am getting angrier and my voice is getting louder, probably slightly hysterical, whereupon one of the women tells me not to shout at her as it is not her decision and that she is only doing her job. Then the other one volunteers that there is another supervisor and she will call him for me, which she does. A man appears and mid way through my protests to him, the woman supervisor makes another appearance, and this time they both leave together after telling me that I have a choice. Either I don't fly, or I can leave the laptop behind! They further tell me that I cannot fly with the computer cable, the thyme, and the heart monitor band in my shoulder bag, and that these will be put in a box and stored in the hold of the plane but that I can retrieve them when the plane arrives at Heathrow. They also think that the pills I am carrying are suspicious though they do not think it necessary to ask me what they are for or why I am carrying them. Shortly, two boxes appear. One with red markings and one with blue. They are both entitled Israel Airports Authority - Ben Gurion International Airport...Security. The Mac book goes into the box with red markings, the monitor strap, cable and thyme go into the blue marked box. They are then taken away by a non uniformed person who presumably is a security officer. There is still the body search of course. I am escorted by a young man to another room who while doing a thorough body search, keeps telling me that he is very sorry he has to do this and that he understands my objections (not that I am making any. By then I have entered the resignation phase). My half hearted attempt to illicit some follow up to his apologies only elicits the response that he is doing his job. I am escorted to the checking-in desk and later taken straight through to the police cubicles to have my passport stamped for exit. For about five minutes the policewoman stares in silence at her computer and at my passport, then she asks me for my ID card. I dutifully present it, whereupon she asks me for my father's name. I point out that it is written in my passport, in my ID card and presumably on the computer screen. She insists that she wants me to tell her, so I do. By then I have no more fight, having already failed to save the Mac book. I reflect how one defeat makes it easier to succumb to succeeding defeats. It is already two hours since I have joined the queue behind the Divali celebrating traveler. After some reflection she asks for my grandfather's name. After more staring at the monitor, she calls a colleague in another booth. Another uniformed policewoman joins her and now they are both staring at the monitor screen. After a few minutes and the exchange of a few comments the guest policewoman goes back to her booth. We are now back into staring at the screen, then she picks up the phone and speaks to somebody. I decide that I have been patient enough and that it is time I am a bit more interventionist. After all I keep hearing and reading that I have "agency". So I ask what the problem is. She ignores me. I am simply not there, and obviously not relevant. A non uniformed person appears. They confer; the new arrival collects my passport, ID card, ticket and boarding pass and commands me to follow her. I do. We approach another larger cubicle with a uniformed officer inside. She motions for me to sit down outside the cubicle, hands in my documents and leaves. I sit. Fifteen minutes later, a middle aged police woman comes out of the cubicle. I feel relief. It must be the age. She hands me back my documents. Inside my passport she has found my latest ECG test. She asks me what that is. For my part I half heartedly inquire what the problem is. She informs me that it is to do with a "similar" name. She tells me that she has penned a note that I am/was not the "other" person! I wonder how she knows? Two and half hours after arriving at the airport, I enter the departure lounge. I wish I was still a smoker. I arrive at Heathrow and wait at the baggage carousel. Eventually I notice the blue marked box, not at the main carousel but at a small conveyer belt to the side. I explain to the attendant that this is mine and after examining my ticket he allows me to take it. Success. I now have the cable, the thyme and the exercise belt. I allow myself a delusion. Perhaps "they" placed the Mac Book on the same flight! I approach the British Airways desk and tell them I am looking for the "lost and found". They want to know why. I explain. They cannot grasp the story. They tell me that BA will not carry unaccompanied luggage. So perhaps the Mac Book will be put on al EL AL flight. They direct me to an office outside the arrival hall. It is the left luggage office and it deals with lost property. I talk to the attendant and he confirms that lost luggage eventually finds its way there. He is of course rather incredulous, and thinks that if the box is eventually sent from Lod airport, it will arrive at the luggage carousel, and of course will not be collected, so it will go round and round and round. Eventually it will be taken of the carousel and dispatched to his counter, as by then it will be classified as lost or abandoned property. But he has no idea if and when it will arrive. British Airways have two daily flights from Lod to Heathrow, and then of course there is El AL. As far as he is concerned there is no procedure for what I have narrated. My Mac Book will just be another piece of lost luggage. For the next couple of days I harass the left luggage counter at Heathrow with constant phone calls. It is a different attendant every time; some find the story hard to comprehend, others do not even bother. I start thinking that there must be tens of thousands of lost pieces of luggage floating around the airports of the world, and that mine is just a matter of financial loss, no different from the loss of people who have actually "lost" their luggage. But this is not satisfactory. I feel my many sojourns at the airport are the price I have paid and continue to pay for the Mac Book. I reason with myself that I need to make one last effort, which is to go to the airport and do an "on the spot "search. If this fails I can resign myself to the fact, and if my attorney is agreeable launch a complaint and perhaps demand financial compensation. But this has to await my return to Jerusalem. I choose a Sunday, as the traffic will not be so bad. I do the hour and a half drive to the airport in an hour. Already I am feeling buoyed. I approach the lost and found. No success. I ask to be allowed into the arrival hall. Not seriously of course. Perhaps the box with the red markings is lying around along with other hundreds of unclaimed pieces of luggage. I do not think that I will be allowed to of course. I am given a number and directed to a free phone. I find myself talking to an airport authority official. I explain, as well as I could. By now I have explained the story so many times I am no longer sure of the facts. He directs me to a small door which will lead me to the arrival hall. I go through a door, take of my shoes, undergo a security check, put my belongings through the x-ray machine, and eventually find myself with the arriving passengers and the carousels doing their merry go rounds. To my astonishment I find myself talking to a BA clerk who actually understands the story. He has been to Tel Aviv and knows how things are done there. After a few minutes searching through the computer, he directs me to a lost and found office inside the arrival hall. I make my way there with no expectations. At the last minute I had decided to bring the box with blue markings with me. I thought this would make it easier to explain what I am looking for. I approach the desk and place the box on the counter. I explain to the attendant that I am looking for a similar box but with red markings instead of blue. I can see part of the store room behind him through the open door. Racks and racks of "lost" luggage, Suddenly I see a similar box. I point it out. He goes to retrieve it. Yes it has red markings. Yes it has Ben Gurion airport on it, and yes it has my name. Success. What a feeling. The attendant is more experienced at this sort of thing. He asks me to open it and to check and see that the computer is there and that it is in working order. I do as he instructs.In a couple of days, I will be taking a British Airways flight to Lod. I tell myself that I am racking up "security miles" in preparation for the 40th anniversary of the June 1967 occupation, and the 59th anniversary for the establishment of the state. There is little consolation in the fact that we are all living in "a state of exception".