Airport

Airports in their current materialization are only possible in the society of control. The paranoid consistency I observed through Russia, Ukraine, Great Britain, Finland, India, Italy, Spain, and the United States of America, is impressive. In the majority of these countries I saw more than one airport. They are remarkably similar; a truly international space. Quirks and things are different everywhere, but the essence of the place is to be devoid of any local specificity, over which the universal readability of the space is opted for. Wonderful continuity throughout the different continents and countries. The glaring surfaces everywhere, the same alphabets, the same underlying message: follow our directions in a correct and timely fashion, and out of our deceptively comfortable globality you would get to the dear to your heart locality, in all what the word entails, faster. Everywhere there is the same pulsating threat: you are the citizen here who might be, if needed, if the authorities so desire, stripped from your so-called rights, very easily and in an accurate, disciplined, elegant, noiseless manner.

Our current culture is all about exercising the utmost patience: safely secured in their seats, little do passengers differ from the patients secured in their inebriated selves, within their dulled with the drugs bodies. Foucault would call airport today the disciplining space akin to prison and hospital. “The Birth of the Airport” is one of his unwritten books.

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