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It is 7.30am at Terminal 2E at Charles de Gaulle airport near Paris, and in the line leading to the security gates, an executive is removing his belt with a mechanical gesture, a mother is taking baby bottles out of her bag, and a tourist is sighing as he unties his shoes. Everyone is moving forward in beep-punctuated silence, only disturbed by the sound of bins moving along the conveyor belts.

This scene repeats itself relentlessly: , 4.89 billion passengers in 2024, meaning that more than 13 million people a day go through such security checkpoints. (The Trump administration recently ended the requirement for people to remove shoes at US airports )

At first glance, going through airport security may seem like nothing more than a necessary technical procedure. Viewed from an anthropological perspective, however, this mundane moment reveals a transformation of our identities that is as effective as it is subtle. Something strange happens in these queues: We enter them as citizens, consumers, professionals—and leave them as "passengers in transit." This metamorphosis, which we take for granted, deserves a closer look.

The dynamics of ritual transformation

What strikes us first in these airport scenes is the gradual, systematic dispossession of personal belongings, clothing, and status symbols deposited into plastic bins before they disappear from view. Then, there is the arbitrary character of the underlying logic: Why shoes and not underwear? Why 100 ml and not 110 ml? This apparent lack of coherence actually serves a symbolic purpose: It's there to create a sense of dispossession that touches on the individual's social status attributes.

As early as 1909, ethnographer Arnold van Gennep identified as the first phase of rites of passage. Individuals must abandon their previous state, shedding what defined them in the secular world. The suited executive becomes an anonymous body, temporarily stripped of his attire, and subjected to the same technological gaze as everyone else. This forced egalitarianism is not a side effect. It is actually central to the process: it prepares for a transformation of identity by neutralizing, albeit temporarily, the usual social hierarchies.

Then comes the screening: scanners, detectors, questions about intentions. "Why are you traveling? Who are you going to see? Did you pack yourself?" Every traveler becomes a temporary suspect who must prove their innocence. This reversal of the burden of proof—of the fundamental principle that one is —goes largely unnoticed since it seems entirely "logical" in these circumstances.

This phase corresponds to what Van Gennep called the margin or liminality, a concept later developed by anthropologist : a moment when subjects, deprived of their usual social attributes, find themselves in a state of vulnerability that makes them malleable and ready to be transformed. In this technological in-between, we are no longer fully citizens, nor are we travelers just yet.

Eventually, there is what is called reintegration, to use another term coined by Van Gennep: We are now permitted to enter the area beyond security checks. Officially, we have become "passengers"—a status that requires docility, patience, and the acceptance of various constraints "for the sake of our own safety." This area, with its duty-free shops and overpriced cafés, highlights this ritual transformation, since we are no longer citizens exercising our right to travel, but global consumers in transit, stripped of our political and territorial roots.

The paradox of the 'security theater'

The troubling paradox with security scanners is that although they effectively detect prohibited items (forgotten knives, suspicious liquids) and act as a real deterrent, they fall short when faced with sophisticated threats. In 2015, US test teams succeeded in smuggling fake weapons in .

Between 2007 and 2013, the failed to detect a single terrorist, at a cost of $900 million. It who passed through airports, but there were no hijackings in the United States. The program therefore appears to be both and .

This lack of operational efficiency is compounded by a major economic imbalance: According to , the actual reduction in the risk of terrorism resulting from the tens of millions invested annually by airports is so limited that the costs far outweigh the intended benefits.

Security expert refers to this logic as —measures primarily designed to reassure the public rather than neutralize the most serious threats. These measures are not dysfunctional, but rather a rational response to social expectations.

After a terrorist attack, the public expects visible measures that—although of questionable effectiveness—will calm collective fears. The "security theater" responds to this demand by producing a sense of protection that helps maintain confidence in the system. Researchers Razaq Raj and Steve Wood of Leeds Beckett University describe how this theater is staged in a way that is .

This explains why these measures persist and are despite their limited results. In addition, they help reinforce a tacit acceptance of authority. This phenomenon relies largely on the , which locks us into , and on a societal dynamic of , with no apparent possibility of turning back.

Learning to be docile

These security checks teach us something more significant than meets the eye. They condition us to accept surveillance as something normal and , benevolent even. This acceptance ; it extends to other social contexts. We learn to "show our ID," to provide justification for our movements, and accept that our bodies be scrutinized "for our own good."

This system also works by reversing the roles. Resistance becomes suspicious: anyone who questions the procedures, refuses an additional search or gets annoyed by delays is automatically labeled as a "problem." The binary character of such moral classification—good, docile passengers versus difficult passengers—tends to turn criticism into an indication of potential guilt.

Over time, airport security gestures and their repetition become part of our bodily habits. We anticipate constraints by wearing shoes without laces, carrying prepackaged liquids and making our computers accessible. We develop what philosopher Michel Foucault called : bodies trained by discipline to internalize constraints and facilitate control.

Beyond airports

The COVID-19 pandemic also introduced similar practices: certificates, passes and behaviors that have become near-rituals. We have become accustomed to "showing ID" for access to public spaces. .

The requirement for passengers to remove their shoes at airports actually dates back to a single failed attempt to carry out a terrorist attack: the December 2001 incident in which a man named Richard Reid concealed explosives in his shoes. One man, one failure, and travelers routinely complying 24 years later where the requirement still exists. This is just one example of an event among others that resonate as "founding myths" used to normalize a number of constraints.

French sociologist notes the emergence of a "moral government" where obedience becomes a proof of ethics and where questioning control turns into a sign of civic irresponsibility. This evolution is remarkable in that it is largely invisible. We do not see the ritual at work, we just experience "necessary measures." This normalization probably explains why such transformations encounter little to no resistance.

Anthropology teaches us that the . They become obvious, necessary and indisputable. The system uses what US political scientist Cass Sunstein Unlike which subtly encourages good behavior, sludge operates through friction, making resistance more costly than cooperation. Social psychology research on suggests that we are more likely to accept constraints when we feel we choose them. By believing that we are making a free choice to board a plane, we freely accept all the constraints that come with it.

Challenging the obvious

The conscious recognition of such mechanisms does not necessarily imply that they should be criticized or opposed. There are legitimate requirements associated with collective security. Being aware of these transformations, however, leads us to question and discuss their rationale, rather than just blindly submitting to them.

Philosopher pointed out that understanding power is a step toward regaining one's capacity for action. Perhaps this is what is at stake here—not rejecting all constraints, but retaining the ability to think them through.

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