Wednesday, November 10, 2004 – Evening Train
Wednesday, November 10, 2004 – Evening train
It is a short distance yet a long crawl tonight from South Station to Back Bay. Dark silhouettes pass my window blocking light from the windows of distant skyscrapers. The silhouettes are the pillars of the I-93 canopy, and as we make our long lazy turn to the west we finally pick up a little speed heading slightly downhill onto level ground. I’ve estimated that trains at South Station sit no more than 12 feet above the Boston Harbor high water mark and this downhill drift takes us perhaps to perhaps six feet or less. I am also aware that many of the Boston subways go deeper and I’ve heard that some portions of those subterranean rails are laid well below sea level, conjuring notions of bursting floods and drowning trolleys – likely except for diligent sump pumping.
I am still troubled by the whole ‘fear, uncertainty, and doubt’ thing – for lack of a more precise description. If the last half of the 20th century in the United States was defined by social progress and emerging hope for individual freedoms, the first part of this 21st century is defined by insecurity – which is nothing more than unexpressed fear.
At London’s Heathrow Airport they are experimenting with low power radar to see through clothes for hidden weapons and contraband. The result is a black and white image on some glaring television screen showing exactly how the person would look if walking through the airport completely naked – not a fuzzy modest image but right down to the length of a guy’s appendage.
From a 20th century perspective most passengers might go ape-shit having learned of such an experiment. Yet as surveyed and reported, more than 95% thought it just fine. That means 19 out of 20 London airport travelers – if I count my fingers and toes properly – would’t mind being photographed in the nude if that improves the unknowable odds of an unknowable event – willing relinquish the entirety of their personal dignity by stripping naked for some functionary simply to feel a bit safer. Would they also be willing to undergo routine rectal searches? or on-sight biopsies – just to make sure those breast implants aren’t made from plastique?
The mere fact that I have trouble finding ways to sound absurd about this is itself alarming.
William has just collected tickets and I notice how his friendly nametag has been replaced with a security badge complete with photo ID and his name in bold Helvetica text – “R Bill” with no punctuation. Let me try that on for size – “R Ken.” Perhaps if I worked on a psychiatric ward I would prefer a badge like that. Perhaps the MBTA perceives the same need for anonymity aboard these trains.
Security is a big deal these days. It means billions in profits and a world that is hardly any safer as a result of that money – like building dikes and flood walls along the Mississippi River to push the danger downstream. Abraham Lincoln once noted how no measure of security can stop a killer willing to give up his own life. That was just as true in 1865 as on the morning of September 11, 2001 – and it will always remain true as long as somebody has an axe to grind.
Sadly, those travelers surveyed in Britain – as well as a host of people inside our own country – have yet to figure this out, deciding instead to live like shorn sheep, hoping for a self-serving shepherd to keep them from all harm.
