“Our legislators are not sufficiently apprised of the rightfullimits of their powers; that their true office is to declare andenforce only our natural rights and duties, and to take none of themfrom us. No man has a natural right to commit aggression on the equalrights of another; and this is all from which the laws ought torestrain him.”
— Thomas Jefferson (1816)1
Over the past week I’ve made two round trip flights by air, which meansI have had the distinct pleasure of passing through airport securityfour times in seven days. It may be my imagination, but I believe thatour friendly neighborhood TSA officers are getting more authoritarian.While the officer at the podium still exhibits call center courtesy,those charged with seeing that people make their way through thecanvass rope maze and show up with their license and boarding passready have taken to shouting orders as if managing a chain gang. Ofcourse, this characterization isn’t far from the truth. However, Idon’t really blame the officers personally that much. Their job is toget people to act in a completely unnatural manner — partiallydisrobing in a crowded room full of strangers just for starters — andwith the exception of frequent travelers they are never going to do itright.So, as the days go by and thousands of new travelers shuffle in andforget to have their licenses ready, forget to take their suntan lotionout of their carry on, try to go through the metal detector with theirjackets on, and do a thousand other things that innocent people wouldnever think twice about doing, the frustration must build with thesefoot soldiers in the War on Terror. “I just told you yesterday that youcan’t bring liquids through security!” they must think, forgetting thatthe little old lady they are snarling is not the same little old ladyfrom yesterday or the day before or the day before that. . .
However, my sympathy does not go so far as to let me forget what ishappening each time I remove my shoes and render my person, papers, andeffects insecure against unreasonable searches. Regardless of thechirpy greeting by the uniformed agent with the infrared flashlight orthe bizarre signs attempting to characterize this shakedown as sometype of customer service (Rather be molested in private? Just ask. . .), I always remember what is really going on: I am being investigated for a crime.