At Israel’s airport, what it’s like to be racially profiled
My
European passport and Arab name aren’t not news to the Israeli
authorities. But the hostile treatment I recently encountered at
Ben-Gurion Airport made me wonder not about Israel’s security – but its
insecurities.
By Khaled Diab
Although
I like to travel light, when it comes to Israel, I always seem to be
carrying an excess of political baggage. And being a frequent flyer does
not seem to provide me with any extra allowances or concessions.
This
was driven home to me, yet again, when I recently went on a short,
work-related trip to London from Jerusalem, where I currently live.
Though I found myself surrounded by a large tourist group entering
Ben-Gurion airport, the hawk-eyed security guard outside the terminal
caught sight of my complexion and asked to see my passport.
His
suspicions were confirmed when he read my Arab name, even though it was
cunningly disguised inside the pages of a European passport. When I
asked him in feigned innocence, as I sometimes do, why he had stopped me
and no-one else, he gave me the standard response: “I’m just doing my
job.”
After
his boss deigned to allow me into the terminal, the security
interviewers who act as the check-in’s gatekeeper also did their jobs
and gave me a number six security label – the highest – which
[currently] means that all my hand baggage is searched with a fine-tooth
comb and high-tech gadgetry, I must stand in a body scanner, and get a
complimentary security massage.
For
those who are not convinced that this is a part of ethnic or racial
profiling, consider the fact that when I travel to or from Israel with
my European wife and/or blond son, I am not exposed to this level of
intrusion.
But
in terms of intrusiveness, my return from London several days later was
possibly the worst since I first started living in Jerusalem in 2011,
though the wait was far longer on my first visit in 2007. After tapping
at her computer and whispering into her phone, the passport control
officer told me I had to wait.
Though
I have become familiar with this drill, and I usually bear through it
in silence, I informed her politely that the visa in my passport had
already come with a security clearance. She too told me that she was
just doing her job.
As
I dawdled a little outside the designated area – for those familiar
with the procedure, by the drinks vending machines in a darker corner of
the arrivals hall – a heavily built plain-clothed officer full of rage
and hostility approached me and yelled: “Stand inside. Now!”
Taken
aback by this uncustomary aggression – usually, my interlocutors are
polite but distant, even cold but sometimes friendly – I asked him
politely to speak to me with respect. He repeated his order and I
repeated my request, whereupon he threatened to deport me if I did not
take the two steps back into the designated area within 10 seconds. I
acquiesced while noting that I did not appreciate his tone.
A
little while later, he returned in a calmer mood and led me into a
non-descript office. “Do you know where you are?” he asked cryptically.
“An interrogation room,” I offered.
“And do you know why you’re here?” he continued mysteriously.
“Because I asked you to be respectful outside,” I suggested.
“You
were rude to me but that’s not the reason,” my questioner said. He then
proceeded to interrogate me about my work and about my wife’s work.
“And what makes you a journalist?” he asked, his voice dripping cynicism and derision.
I
responded simply that I’d been working as one for over 15 years. The
officer then did something which I have personally never witnessed in
the many times I have entered and exited Israel, though I have heard of
others who have. He turned to his computer and presumably Googled my
name, quoting from one of my articles doubtfully.
“Do you believe this?”
“I did when I wrote it, but I am not here to discuss my journalism or opinions,” I countered.
Changing track, he asked me about who I knew and who my friends were, adding his trademark, “Do you know why I’m asking?”
Miffed
and offended by his question, I sidestepped answering it by admitting I
hadn’t a clue. “If you’re trying to work out whether I have Israeli as
well as Palestinian friends, well I have both and from many different
walks of life,” I volunteered.
After
asking me to write down my Israeli and European phone numbers and my
email address (another intrusion I objected to but acquiesced), he told
me I was free to go. By way of a farewell, he informed me that they
reserved the right to stop me and my wife for questioning at any point
on entry and exit in the future.
I
don’t know if this greater scrutiny has anything to do with the recent
Israel-Gaza war or whether I had been flagged personally, or whether it
was purely random based on my ethnicity.
Whatever
the case, it is a violation of my fundamental rights (such as equality
before the law and freedom of expression) and an encroachment of my
privacy, as outlined in the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, to
which Israel is a signatory.
I
fully understand Israel’s need to protect the security of its citizens,
especially on something as potentially vulnerable as airlines. But its
gruelling and exacting airport security, unmatched anywhere in the
world, is more than up to that task.
An
Israeli friend pointed out that she and her family underwent similar
interrogations in America. To my mind, that is equally unacceptable.
Governments have no right to intrude into our private lives – and when
they do, it usually ends badly.
There
is no justification for racial, ethnic or other forms of profiling, nor
for intrusive questioning. Granting the state and its officials with
arbitrary powers often means they will be exercised or abused
arbitrarily. Ultimately, this is not about state security - but the
state’s insecurity.
No comments:
Post a Comment