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Observations
Walking papers, D.C.-style
(Published January 12, 2004)

By CARRIE DEVORAH

America’s post 911 fears are bordering paranoia. Good reason. White House and D.C. security is breached daily. Guards are compromising the security.

The same morning last September that a West Point graduate Muslim cleric was arrested for treason at Guantanamo Bay, President Bush’s life was endangered at the White House, soon after he safely returned from escaping Hurricane Isabel. A gate guard failed to inspect a jeep and driver entering his parking lot, bordering the White House. The driver delivered a package to a man dressed in a guard’s uniform inside the White House perimeter. The guard slipped the package into his backpack. No one investigated the package contents.

On Oct. 4, three men were photographed exiting the White House front gate. They wore earphones similar to those worn by security agents. One man’s ID card flapped as he walked. His details could be seen, both by the naked eye and by a long lens camera. America’s security is anything but secure.

"I am not at liberty to say if White House staffers must remove their picture ID cards upon exiting the grounds," said Secret Service Inspector Bob Smith. "Nor am I at liberty to say if White House entry guards must exit booths to examine car interiors and undercarriages."

Thousands of D.C. workers wear their identification badges, outside of their workplace -- in the streets, on the Metro, in the market, walking dogs, thoughtlessly putting the country at risk. Names and personal information are printed on ID cards displaying levels of security clearance. CNN, FTC, ABC, VOA, DOH, 108th Congress. The list seems endless. Badges in this city are "a capital way of life." Even, specially trained K-9s wear badges identifying their duties, primarily accompanying human companions with illnesses.

Badges are worn from doorstep to work largely for convenience. One man said, "I am just lazy," exposing his badge to public view, open to being replicated. Federal Trade Commission employees admitted they did not think twice about layering badges prominently on their shirt fronts, suit jackets, even clipped to belt loops on pants. A Department of Health employee said, "If I don’t put the badge on first thing in the morning, I will forget to take it with me to work and I won’t get into the building."

ID cards rank the wearer's status within the social scene. A D.C. columnist's badge boasts his White House security clearance. He wears his badge, tightly around his neck, close to the top of his tie, short chained, right under his chin. He said he sleeps with his badge next to his bed, in ready position, in the event he is called to an emergency press conference at the White House. "Otherwise, I will forget to take it with me," he said.

A CNN cameraman, interviewed standing on Union Station's upper level restaurant line, compromised his special White House security clearance, volunteering the information, to a stranger. White House access is "special," insider D.C. stuff. He became conscious of the cards on his clip the moment he was asked if their photo could be taken, with or without his face in the picture.

"No," he would not allow his picture to be taken. "Nothing I can do if in fact you did take a picture when I wasn’t looking," he said. His hand flew to his chest, encasing his badges. "I will not tell you my name." It was too late. Dave’s name was read from his badge long before permission was denied. He was too slow to cover his faux pas.

A well-dressed man, in a business suit told the female guard outside the Securities and Exchange Commission, "I forgot my card." None the less, she waved him in. She is supposed to refuse him entry to the building for not having his ID on him. "Face value," she said. "He didn’t ‘look the type,’ like a hooligan." She said she thinks she recognized him from entering the building another time. She was not sure.

In this day and age, familiarity breeds content. One week later, a 26-year-old female lawyer blew herself up in a Haifa restaurant. The suicide bomber did not look threatening, either.

Military personnel, all over D.C., are targets for terrorists on home shores. An airman was not bothered that his cap and jacket made him an easy target for terrorists. He said the U.S. government manual advises him that if dressing as an American soldier makes him a target on foreign shores, he is to wear civvies. "I am in my home," he said. "I am proud to walk freely on the streets of my capital, even if it means dying for my country. I am not afraid. I will not change my clothing" -- even though 9-11 brought terrorism home.

A soldier on the Metro was identified by his clothing as well as his first name, engraved on his breast pin -- though parents are warned by police not to put their children’s names on clothing, mitigating the chance a child will be lured into danger from their names being read off hats, shirts or shoes. Parker was "busted." Though he was wearing an ID card, one did not need to read it to know who he worked for. All one had to do was look at his uniform. The five-digit identification number on his ID badge gave a little more information than the greens he wore. Jutting his jaw outwards, Parker refused to say a word. The commuter next to him was verbally abusive about Parker not responding to obvious fact: "Call him the mute from the military. My ID is where it belongs: in my pocket. It goes on at work and not on the streets. I am a private person." The same sentiment was echoed by a temporary accountant for the U.S. Capitol Police. He said he hangs his badge around his neck before leaving home, tucking his ID card into his left breast pocket where "it cannot be seen. I prefer no one knows my business."

A Smithsonian gate guard said he read in a local paper that the security of picture badge identification cards is being reviewed in D.C. He isn’t sure where he heard the whispers about that. He is sure he did not hear it from his employer.

Wearing a 108th Congress badge makes congressional intern Sophia Green feel she is part of a "select club." At first reluctant to discuss her badge swinging into the salad section of the café’s refrigerator, she relaxed when she was addressed by name. It could not be missed. It was prominently printed on her badge. As the conversation progressed, she became delighted to pose for a member of the press, approving her digital pictures, visible on the camera back. Her boss had not given her any restrictions pertaining to name badges. Nor, she said, was she given restrictions on talking to press or a congressional employee handbook to read. "What is an employee handbook?" she asked, genuinely interested to learn more about her prestigious placement.

Sophia is not alone in being ignorant of details of her employer’s handbook on security and badges. Few people approached knew if their employer had a handbook to read. Even fewer had read it. Some did not know what an employee handbook is. One gentleman said his employer's handbook's security section dealt with rape, mugging and being alone in the office after hours. The manuals often say nothing about badges being hidden from public view because today’s digital wizardry can create digital duplicates, for devious use, within minutes.

All the while pictures of badge wearers were snapped in midtown D.C., only one person, amid mad morning rush, asked aloud: "What is she doing?" Why were they being photographed? Confronted, shown the photographic evidence, some clutched their badges too late, flipping them picture down or even removing the badge from around their neck, stuffing it in their pants pocket. Most photographed were too busy talking with friends or chatting on cell phones to care. More than a few removed their ID after being approached. Others refused to answer questions.

One man wearing a badge said, "Sure, I have no problem telling you who I am or letting you take my picture, but I wont tell you where I work." He was shown that his picture was already taken.

The solution to improving D.C. security might be as simple as taking a page from the example set by a South American family touring the city on the "D.C. Duck" -- giving government employees duck whistles bearing their IDs to identify themselves for entering and exiting work. Hazarding a guess, few lives would be risked, as fewer, including terrorists, would publicly wear the identifying yellow markers that the foreign guests appeared delighted to be leaving their ride with, the whistles still hanging from around their necks.

Security is never a joking matter. But in D.C. and in the homeland, it appears security is not all the White House wants to "quack it up" to be.

Copyright 2004, The Common Denominator