Forgetting 9/11

I made a trip to China recently. When I travel, I like to carefully observe airports and border crossings. The security procedures and the conduct of the personnel in these places both serve as good barometers for the state’s attitude toward their citizenry (and the citizens of other countries). Also revealed is the state’s attitude toward itself. Does it see itself as under siege? Does it see itself as part of a global community? What and whom does it fear?

The security at Shanghai’s Pudong airport was pleasantly surprising in its reasonability. I filed into one of several lines just after having my passport stamped. I passed through a metal detector and placed my bag on the conveyor for the scanner. The personnel looked briefly at the x-rays of my bag and waved me through the metal detector without a second thought. I kept my shoes on. I kept my belt on. I kept my watch on. I even kept my hooded sweatshirt on. The whole process was quick, quiet, and relatively dignified.

Contrast this with a typical American airport. Shed every non-essential clothing item. Pass under the watchful eyes of the over-staffed TSA wearing their blue latex gloves as if already prepped to conduct a body cavity search. Rush to grab your shit out of the bins so you don’t hold up the line. To say nothing of the new full-body scanners and pat downs. I can go through an American airport wearing a dress shirt and sport coat, looking like I’m traveling for business (which I am), and I get treated like a criminal. I can go through a Chinese airport with a foreign passport, wearing a t-shirt and a hoodie, and I get treated like a citizen.

There must be some mistake here, no? Surely if one of these two countries were to have airport security measures befitting a police state, it would be the paranoid, insular Red China. That’s what we would want to believe, but it’s not so. The US trumps many countries in the absurdity of its airport and border security. I made a four-month-long trip a few years ago to Southeast Asia, as well. When I returned, some friends and family asked if it wasn’t scary traveling alone in such foreign places. “The scariest part of my trip?” I replied. “Flying out of LAX.” As a first-time international traveler, I was sure I would lose my passport, money, boarding pass, or other essential item somewhere in the noisy chaos of partial disrobement and security checkpoints. I caught planes in Sydney, Kuala Lumpur, Padang, Surabaya, Labuanbajo, and Denpasar during the course of that trip, and not one of those places came close to LAX for intimidation and unpleasantness in security.

Ah, but we had 9/11, didn’t we? That day made clear the danger faced when flying on inadequately policed airliners. We’ve also had near-misses with shoe bombers and underwear bombers. Against these threats, extraordinary measures are justified.

To say that the danger to US air travelers has been exaggerated is itself exaggeratedly understated. 3,000 citizens died on 9/11. On a personal level, tragic and atrocious. On a national level, insignificant. A tiny percentage of our population were killed in an isolated incident. It was a shocking mass murder carried out in symbolic fashion. It was not a threat to our country. Nor, really, was it a threat to the average air traveler. After a brief period of one or two years in which we might worry about copycat attacks, there’s no reason to consider oneself more likely to be killed in an airplane after 9/11 than before. 

These attacks took place over ten years ago. It’s time we forget them a bit. The innocent people who died that day and the people who worked so selflessly to rescue the survivors deserve our remembrance, but those who support the security measures in our aiports have clearly drawn the wrong lessons from our recent history. There’s far more to learn from 9/11 about how we relate to other nations than there is to learn about how we monitor transportation.

If we were to revert to pre-9/11 airport security measures, the chance that I would get blown up the next time I fly would probably be greater than it is with the TSA asking me to undress and waiting for the opportunity to benevolently pat my genitals. But the chance is still extraordinarily remote. A simple metal detector and bag scanner is a sensible precaution against violence. Shedding clothes and being searched is not.

I wear a seatbelt when I drive. I don’t wear a helmet and a flame-retardant jumpsuit. We take our lives in our hands every waking moment. Riding a bike, driving a car, using a gas stove, crossing the street, eating in restaurants, being near other people. And we could also die in an airplane at the hands of a terrorist. I don’t live in fear of these things, though, and the fear of airline violence (dutifully instilled in us by organs of the state) has induced many to accept the inconvenience and indignity of being treated like second-class citizens when they travel. They say they are willing to accept it if it means being safe. I’d rather take the risk and go back to being treated like a human being.