Political baggage and state insecurity at Ben Gurion airport

By Khaled Diab

Ethnic profiling at 's airport is not about but the insecurity of the state, and is an infringement of fundamental rights.

Six has been my unlucky number ever since the first time I visited Israel in 2007.
Six has been my unlucky number ever since the first time I visited Israel in 2007.

Tuesday 4 November 2014

Although I like to travel light, when it comes to Israel, I always seem to be weighed down by generations of excess 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 , 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 scrutiny.

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 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 e-mail address (another intrusion to which I objected 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 , 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 , 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.

____

Follow Khaled Diab on Twitter.

This article first appeared in Haaretz on 30 October 2014.

Author

  • Khaled Diab

    Khaled Diab is an award-winning journalist, blogger and writer who has been based in Tunis, Jerusalem, Brussels, Geneva and Cairo. Khaled also gives talks and is regularly interviewed by the print and audiovisual media. Khaled Diab is the author of two books: Islam for the Politically Incorrect (2017) and Intimate Enemies: Living with Israelis and Palestinians in the Holy Land (2014). In 2014, the Anna Lindh Foundation awarded Khaled its Mediterranean Journalist Award in the press category. This website, The Chronikler, won the 2012 Best of the Blogs (BOBs) for the best English-language blog. Khaled was longlisted for the Orwell journalism prize in 2020. In addition, Khaled works as communications director for an environmental NGO based in Brussels. He has also worked as a communications consultant to intergovernmental organisations, such as the EU and the UN, as well as civil society. Khaled lives with his beautiful and brilliant wife, Katleen, who works in humanitarian aid. The foursome is completed by Iskander, their smart, creative and artistic son, and Sky, their mischievous and footballing cat. Egyptian by birth, Khaled's life has been divided between the Middle East and Europe. He grew up in Egypt and the UK, and has lived in Belgium, on and off, since 2001. He holds dual Egyptian-Belgian nationality.

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10 thoughts on “Political baggage and state insecurity at Ben Gurion airport

  • Right. But that’s the point I was making from the start.

    Reply
  • That might be because u r not getting profiled….

    Reply
  • I’ve never had any liquids taken away from me at Ben Gurion.

    Reply
  • Actually the amount of liquids allowed at BG is lower than the standard 100 ml used in most airports in the world. I don’t recall if 50 ml but in any event lower than standard. @khaled diab were u also escorted to the bathroom and on the flight? This happened to me once…

    Reply
  • The ban on liquids illustrates the limit of technology – where there’s a will, there’s a way, otherwise there would never be any terrorism at airports. You may have noticed, incidentally, that there is no ban on liquids at BG; this is because they recognize that assessing the passengers is far more effective, and possible to do, because it’s a relatively small airport. The harsh reality is that measures we generally consider unacceptable actually work. In your case, I think they probably hoped you would write this article.

    Reply
  • Alex, I see no contradiction. One cannot blow up a plane or shoot up an airport armed with his loaded name, unsheathed pen or sharp tongue. If it is really only about the security of aircraft and airport, then machines and occasional searches are more than enough – questioning adds nothing. Guillaume, I truly hope not. The ban on liquids is already surreal enough. Mathieu, that’s a good book.

    Reply
  • it reminds me the “Chroniques de Jerusalem” by Guy Delisle. Although, he might not be suffering from ethinc profiling he is asked a hell of questions on his way back from a travel in Europa, at Ben Gourion airport….

    Reply
  • Guillaume

    Ya basha, you know what? I fear (and truely believe) that one day, yes one day this procedure will be standard operating procedures at airports. All it takes is for the US to make it a standard and give it 10 years and Europeans will follow suit. I am getting ready for the day where I will not be taking the plane ever again!

    Reply
  • “But its gruelling and exacting airport security, unmatched anywhere in the world, is more than up to that task.” There’s a contradiction here. The grueling and exacting airport security isn’t purely about machines – it includes the ethnic profiling you complain about above. And it’s also important to note that it’s one of the main reasons there haven’t been attacks on BG since the 70s.

    Reply

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