A Kafkaesque Farce

The lovely Kathleen Parker, now a CNN celebrity, writes of, what else, TSA.  How many ways can this be said?

In the accelerating debate about airport pat-downs that feel like a clumsy third date and body scans that border on Peeping Tom shows, it's hard to find a sane place to land.

Is this really for our own good? Or are we trading what's left of our human dignity by participating in a Kafkaesque farce that more closely resembles a college fraternity psychology experiment devised around a keg:

"Okay, here's the plan. Americans are terrified of an airplane bomber, right? So let's see what we can get them to do if we promise them safety."

"Like what?"

"I dunno, like let us touch their genitals and use scanners that show them naked, stuff like that."

"No WAY!"

This isn't merely a matter of modesty, though that is a consideration. I don't like the idea of some stranger - regardless of whether he or she can see my face - examining my concessions to gravity without my permission. Surrendering to rule shouldn't be confused with granting permission. One is submission; the other an invitation to mutual consent.

As to the alternative, no thank you. The idea of a stranger, even one of the same sex, foraging around my private principalities is simply unacceptable. Forget the creepiness factor, which is sufficient; consider the principle - quickly! - before you get used to the notion that government has the right to do Whatever Is Necessary To Protect You.

From what, if not this?

But more alarming than the apparatuses is our willingness to go lowing into the night. Incrementally, we adapt to the stripping of civil liberties until, with the passage of time and the blinkering of generational memory, we no longer remember when things were otherwise.