Further Scenes From the Class Struggle in America (Or, Homeland Insecurity)

In Which the Author More Deeply Probes the Eternal Question: "Whatever Happened to Class?"


In my previous post, I explored the loss of class in our society, and how the world seems to be making a ruthless attempt at living as classlessly and uncivilly as is humanly possible. The gravity of this issue was magnified for me this weekend, when John and I took a rather impromptu trip to Mexico. I've already mentioned the degree of classlessness with which TSA employees tackle their jobs. But these folks have nothing on the boorish officers of the United States Homeland Security Department (DHS).

Before I go any further, let me say that I realize my husband has very little patience for airports in general, and even less patience for Customs processes. I need to state this because it will help you gain a more balanced perspective on the topic I wish to expound upon here: the gross ineptitude and downright rudeness of those assigned to take care of and protect us.

We are a nation ruled by fear. When the populace is petrified and made to fear even the most harmless things, the citizenry is easier to control. All dictatorships have functioned under this principle. If you scare the hell out of 'em, they're putty in your hands, or, as is probably more appropriate in this circumstance, jello under your feet.

With absolute power -- no matter how ill-achieved or false it may be -- comes a crack in the wall of democracy: instill fear and you will have control. And at the root of instilling fear is establishing a sturdy soil of rudeness. Without bad manners, fear of those in positions of authority would not have the opportunity to flourish.

There's a line in the song I quoted in my previous entry that goes, "Oh, there ain't no gentlemen that's fit for any use." After encountering our DHS at work this weekend, I'm convinced that this line must appear on their recruitment notices. "Think you're unfit for any use at all? Let us prove it to you! Become a Department of Homeland Security Officer today!"

These people are, in a few short words, without even a modicum of class.

On the plane back from Mexico, we were given Customs forms to fill out. You know, your name and address and birthdate, as well as five or six questions about the purpose of your foreign adventure. They ask if you're bringing in live animals or plants, or if you've spent time on a ranch, or if you have more than $10K in U.S. dollars on you. This is routine, and I have no problem answering these questions.

Once we landed, we were ushered through to the first step in reentry to American soil: passport check. These people make MBTA and TSA employees look like Peace Corps volunteers. They sit behind their glass booths, in fully-uniformed regalia, as another officer stands at the head of the line and tells you which aisle to go in. John and I did this with no problem. However, we made a fatal error when going to Glass Booth Number 10:

We didn't stand behind the yellow line.

Dear God, call the Feds! These two sunburned gays with a ratty old suitcase did not stand behind the all-powerful Line. Notice how I capitalize the L in Line. That's how important it is.

The fact that we didn't do this was scandalous to the DHS officer in Glass Booth Number 10, and he barked at us to get behind the line!

We did as we were told, stifling our laughter over this display of perceived superiority, before we were once again barked at. "Go to Number 9!" the Hitler in Glass Booth Number 10 ordered. Glass Booth Number 9 had just been freed up, and even though we were going against the rules of the Head of the Line DHS agent, we followed our new orders and proceeded to the bald, mean (one the direct result of the other, I'm sure) man at number 9.

This agent looked at our passports and ran them through his little machine, which, I venture to guess, stores all sorts of information about American citizens, from our Social Security numbers to how many times we make tinkle in an average day. He then proceeded to ask us the exact same questions we had already answered on our Customs forms. How stupid do these people think we are? Do they think we suddenly remembered on the way from the plane to the glass booth that, Oh yes, I do have a live animal in my suitcase that I lifted from the Mexican jungle? I mean, come on! We've already covered these bases.

Baldy was rambling through the interrogation so fast that John missed his last question (the one about whether or not you visited a ranch of some kind on your vacation). Not hearing him, John didn't answer the question. As you can imagine, this upset Glass Booth Number 9 to no end. He narrowed his eyes in sheer disgust, sighed exaggeratedly, and said, "You have to answer all the questions!" John asked him to repeat the question, answered no, and we were ushered into further belittling after our condescending chastising from The Hairless One.

Next we went to Customs, where even more people stared blankly at our passports (this was the fourth time our passports were inspected since Mexico). I was let through, but John was "detained". Why he was, we still don't know. But he had to go through yet another line, where yet another DHS agent gazed inexplicably at his passport. By this time, John was pretty angry, and it's not easy to get John angry. The agent, of course, was as rude and uncivil as could be suspected, and, sensing John's frustration, inquired, "Do you have a problem with this?" John, diplomatically, said no, there's no problem. He knows that these guys have the power to incarcerate us for the rest of our lives without a warrant and without a lawyer (this is a fact). I daresay I may not have been so appeasing. I mean, all we really wanted to know is Why? Why was John being held for further interrogation? Just how many bloody people does it take to look at a passport and say, "Yup, he's a citizen, let him in"? Even if the DHS official could have said, "It's totally random; we double-check every third person that comes through", or something to that effect, it would've been sufficient.

But, alas, giving an explanation would've meant giving up a little bit of power. And when you give up even a little bit of power, you are releasing your grip, however tiny, on your ability to instill fear. And that's all these DHS people have: the ability to frighten us. Would it have been that difficult to get a "please" or "thank you" from one of these people? I don't think that's asking too much: we do, after all, pay their salaries with our hard-earned money.

John of course made it through the debacle, and we were once again allowed reentry into our homeland. John thinks he was detained because he has a beard. And hell, for all we know, that could indeed have been the reason.

Intrigued by this inconsiderateness of those in command of our "protection" (Who are they protecting us from? Certainly not themselves!), I did a little research on the Department of Homeland Security's employees. To say this department of our government is a mess would be an understatement.

Here are a few of the more interesting facts I came across.

From USA Today, 12/27/2004:

• The government agency responsible for protecting the nation against terrorist attack is a dysfunctional, poorly managed bureaucracy that has failed to plug serious holes in the nation's safety net, the Department of Homeland Security's former internal watchdog warns.
• Undercover investigators were able to sneak explosives and weapons past security screeners at 15 airports during tests in 2003.
• Federal air marshals, hired to provide a last line of defense against terrorists on airlines, slept on the job, tested positive for alcohol or drugs while on duty, lost their weapons and falsified information in 2002.
• The TSA spent nearly $500,000 on an awards banquet for employees in November 2003. The cost included $1,500 for three cheese displays and $3.75 for each soft drink.

According to Wikipedia, the Office of Personnel Management conducted a survey of all federal employees. The Department of Homeland Security ranked last or nearly last on every single category, including the following:

• 33rd on the talent management index
• 35th on the leadership and knowledge management index
• 36th on the job satisfaction index
• 36th on the results-oriented performance culture index

These results speak for themselves. All except that cheese platter thing. I mean, no wonder these DHS and TSA officials are so damned mean. They're all so clogged with expensive cheese that they can't take a crap if their lives depended upon it. But then again, that's probably exactly how the powers that be want it. After all, having a healthy BM is a form of release...and if we release our perceived power and incivility, then we are releasing our authority to frighten.

And they depend on that.