Obsidian Wings

(In)Security – Weekend Open Thread

by wj

These musings about the American approach to security are not actually motivated by this week’s activities around Trump’s fantasy wall and its supporters. Although there are some obvious implications. Rather, they stem from the trip I took last week to Brussels. Specifically, about my observations concerning airport security in Europe, as opposed to at US airports.

One obvious difference is at security check points. At US airports, chances are you will get to empty everything out of your pockets, take off your shoes, and go thru the nudiescope. In Europe, nobody thinks you need to take off your shoes, and the metal detectors are set relaxed enough that you don’t even need to take off your watch.

But the other big difference, and one which particularly struck me, was that every airport that I went thru had pairs of soldiers, with semiautomatic weapons (and in jungle camo for some reason), patrolling. In US airports, I have seen lots of military personnel in uniform – but only because they were traveling. Not a weapon, let alone any serious weapons, among them.

The difference, I suspect, is that Europeans are serious about security. Whereas Americans seem mostly interested in the appearance of security – “security theater” if you will. So European governments mainly do things which will increase actual security. Whereas the American government does things that will serve as constant reminders to the traveling public that they have “done something” – whether it actually serves any useful security function or not. One has to wonder why that is. (And no, I don't have an answer on that.)

Of course, the same focus on symbolism over actual usefulness is reflected in the Trumpists’ obsession over Trump’s wall. Even if the problems that Trump (falsely) alleges were real, the wall would be of minimal use in addressing them. But as a symbol, it is apparently quite potent. At least for some.

(Also an Open Thread. Because we are somewhat overdue for one.)

Invisible

by JanieM

The summer after my sophomore year in high school I bought the junior math textbook, taught myself Algebra II and Trig, and asked if I could take senior math that year. The principal – let’s call him Father S – was reluctant to allow it, but my math teacher, Mrs. W, was supportive. In the face of Father S’s reluctance, Mrs. W gave me a test, which I aced, after which she told Father S that she refused to have me in her junior math class.

Father S gave in, but not before expressing his fears that I would end up with “holes in her knowledge.”

I did end up with holes in my knowledge, but they had nothing to do with math. Because of Father S, the Holy [sic] Roman Catholic Church, my family, and the entire culture I was raised in, I left home for college having no idea that I was gay, or indeed that there was such a thing as being gay.

But this isn’t a story about being part of the LGBT minority. It isn’t even a story about being part of a math nerd minority.

No, this is a story about sleep.

I did math every night that summer between midnight and four a.m. Then I’d sleep till noon, spend a few hours at the town beach, where the kids hung out, and have an evening with family or friends. Then – rinse and repeat.

I’ve always been a night person. Luckily for me, back in the old days school started at a relatively civilized 9:15, not at, say, 7:10 a.m. like the schools in towns near me now. Making teenagers get out of bed and get to school for a 7:10 bell, sometimes over rural distances, is, not to put too fine a point on it, child abuse.

When I had babies I was forced to shift the pattern for a few years, but I drifted back to my old habits as soon as my kids were old enough to pour their own Cheerios. One of them was like me, the other was more like their dad, who was an early to bed, early riser who also required far less sleep than I did.

Watching the kids, I learned that we differ not only in night/morning patterns and in how much sleep we need, but also in how we make the transitions. One of my kids fell asleep easily every night and woke up cheerful and ready to go. The other tossed and turned for an hour before dropping off, then woke up bleary-eyed in the morning, sort of like me.

I’ve struggled for my entire adult life with the tendency to stay up later and later and sleep later and later until I’m too out of synch with the wider world to function. Yes, it turns out to be hard to run a family, or a life, if you’re up all night and sleeping all day. (And yes, I know there are people who work at night and manage it somehow. My hat is off to them.) Offices of all sorts are open in the daytime, not at night. Social and athletic events happen in the day or evening, not at two in the morning. Operating during the day and not late at night are doctor’s and dentist’s offices, hair salons, stores and restaurants (at least in this rural state), car repair shops, book clubs, the Department of Motor Vehicles . . .

And the court system.

I have just been called for jury duty. For some number of days I have to show up at a courthouse half an hour away at eight in the morning. Given that I don’t usually get out of bed until ten, this is going to be . . . an adventure.

Shifting my sleep schedule gradually never works, and as I get older my sleep is sketchier in general. Luckily, my work is flexible enough so that I can sleep in if I’ve had a bad night.

I’ve never been called for jury duty before, and I have no objection to doing my civic duty. But now that I’m faced with the reality, it’s a little daunting, and I wish I could count on doing it after a good night’s sleep.

Unfortunately, no one, and I mean no one, cares about the needs of night people.

I’m going to need a lot of strong black tea on my way to the courthouse.

A book I won't be reading

by liberal japonicus

Via this Vox article, an interesting New Yorker article about Dan Mallory. Wondering about the takeaway of the Vox article: does the personal deception done by Mallory stand as evidence of the rot in the publishing industry? Be interested to hear what everything thinks.

Snippets

by JanieM

Unlike Doctor Science, I’m not back from outer space. But here's something to snack on.

1. Foreign Affairs has a series of essays responding to a Francis Fukuyama piece about identity politics. The Stacey Abrams essay includes this sentence:

The marginalized did not create identity politics: their identities have been forced on them by dominant groups, and politics is the most effective method of revolt.

This applies to my own life. Being born in a closet forces a choice: stay in the closet, or spend life and energy trying to get out of it and burn it down. I’m a long way from having devoted my entire life to the politics of gay rights, but in a better world I would certainly have done something else with the time I've spent that way, and may yet spend in the future.

Disclaimer: I haven’t read the other essays at the link yet, except to skim Fukuyama’s response to the responses.

2. Maria Farrell at Crooked Timber has a beautiful, utterly heartbreaking essay up called “At least you can leave,” about how often her friends are saying those words to her as they contemplate what’s happening in the Brexit-ravaged UK with much the same horror that some of us feel as we contemplate what's happening in the Clickbait/McConnell/R-ravaged USA.

Read it and weep.

3. Pete Buttigieg. I first heard about Buttigeig from some of the younger folks in my life, and they love him. He’s stuck in Indiana, so I don’t know what his path is going to be into national politics, if indeed he can forge one. I wish him luck.