Questioning Authority Is Your Constitutional Right
The security officer held up his pack of mini cable ties like she’d just discovered a bomb.
“These are prohibited.”
He looked at the tiny plastic strips in her hand. The same ones he uses to secure his checked luggage on every flight, and he flies a lot. The same ones you can buy at any hardware store for R20.
“Can you show me where they’re on the prohibited list?”
Her face hardened. “You need to trust me. They’re prohibited.”
This is where it always starts. Someone with a uniform and a checklist deciding they know better than the actual rules. And when you dare to question them, you become the problem.
When Authority Becomes Invention
“Show me where it says cable ties on your list of prohibited goods,” he said.
Here is a link to the official ACSA prohibited goods list: https://www.airports.co.za/Pages/Prohibited-items-in-the-cabin-of-departing-flights.aspx
She called her supervisor. A woman arrived who was equally certain and equally unable to provide evidence. They huddled together, glancing at him like he was causing a scene by simply asking them to follow their own rules.
Finally, the supervisor played her trump card. “We have discretion to confiscate anything we deem dangerous.”
There it was. The magic word: discretion. The escape hatch that turns an official into a mini dictator. When the rules don’t support you, claim special powers.
He did the math out loud. “How many of these would I need to tie together to create a weapon? Fifty? A hundred?”
They weren’t amused. After several tense minutes, they “generously” allowed him to take three cable ties. He negotiated to five. The rest went into their disposal bin.
The Absurdity of Selective Enforcement
Here’s what makes this even more ridiculous. Look at what a typical business traveller carries through security every single day without question, all of which could be dangerous weapons if someone chose to use them that way;
A laptop power cable with a heavy transformer block.
A laptop.
A pen.
A lighter.
A can of deodorant.
Reading glasses with metal frames.
A belt with a metal buckle.
Keys.
A hardcover book.
I could keep going, but I am sure you get the point.
All of these items could theoretically be used to cause harm. All of them pass through security every day. But cable ties? Those are the threat??
The inconsistency reveals the truth. This isn’t about safety. It’s about control. It’s about someone deciding in the moment what they think should be prohibited, regardless of what the actual rules say.
It’s Never Just About the Items
A friend of mine lost a golf ball. One single golf ball from a tournament he had just played in. Security took it from his hand luggage. When he asked why, they shrugged. “Could be dangerous.”
A golf ball. Think about that. You can buy them in the airport gift shop, but you can’t carry one through security. The absurdity doesn’t matter. The logic doesn’t matter. What matters is that someone decided, and their decision was final.
These stories sound petty when you list them out. Cable ties, a golf ball. Small stuff. Why get worked up?
Because it’s never about the items. It’s about what happens when we accept arbitrary authority. It’s about the creep from minor overreach to major abuse. It’s about learning that the people meant to serve and protect can instead bully and intimidate.
The Pattern Repeats
We wrote previously about traffic officers and police who operate the same way.
Click this link to read the article: https://lnkd.in/d_kCD9pv
Officers who demand to search your car without cause. Who threaten arrest when you ask what law you’ve broken. Who intimidate you because they wear a uniform and carry a badge.
I’ve heard dozens of these stories. The woman pulled over and told her license is suspicious, even though it’s legitimate. The man ordered out of his car for “failing to show respect” to an officer. The driver arrested for video recording a road block, even though recording police is legal.
The script is always the same. Authority without accountability. Rules that bend depending on who’s enforcing them. And consequences for anyone who dares to question.
South Africa’s Constitution guarantees you rights. Dignity, freedom, security, privacy. These aren’t privileges granted by officials in uniforms. They’re rights that exist whether those officials like it or not.
But rights on paper mean nothing if people with power can ignore them at will.
Professionalism Requires Proof
Here’s what should happen when someone questions a security decision.
The officer should have the relevant legislation on hand. Not buried in some office filing cabinet. Right there, accessible, ready to show anyone who asks.
They should be trained to answer questions effectively and professionally. They should know the rules well enough to explain them clearly and cite specific regulations.
“Trust me, it is on the list” is not an adequate response. It’s not professional. It’s not acceptable. And it’s not how authority should function in a constitutional democracy.
If an item is prohibited, show the regulation. If you’re exercising discretion, explain the specific safety concern and the legal basis for that discretion. If you can’t do either, you shouldn’t be confiscating anything.
This isn’t about making security officers’ jobs harder. It’s about making sure they do their jobs correctly. Real professionals welcome questions because they have answers. They understand that accountability makes them better at their work, not worse.
Why Good People Go Bad
Here’s what I’ve learned: the uniform changes people.
Not everyone. Some people understand that authority is responsibility, not privilege. They know the rules, follow them, and can explain their decisions without getting defensive.
But others put on that uniform and suddenly they’re untouchable. Every question becomes insubordination. Every request for clarification becomes a challenge to their authority. They hide behind words like “discretion” and “security” because the actual rules don’t support what they’re doing.
It’s insecurity masquerading as power. Real authority doesn’t need to intimidate. Real security doesn’t require inventing threats. Real professionals welcome questions because they have answers.
What It Costs Us
You might think this is an overreaction. Getting worked up over cable ties and golf balls.
But imagine thousands of these interactions happening every day. At airports, roadblocks, government offices. Each one teaching the same lesson: shut up and comply.
That’s how democracies die. Not in one dramatic moment, but in a thousand small surrenders. In a million times someone with a badge overstepped and faced no consequences. In every person who stopped asking questions because it was easier to just give in.
Know Your Rights
The only way to fight back is to know your rights. You actually need to study them. The Constitution, the laws, the official policies. Knowledge is the only weapon you have against arbitrary authority.
Ask questions calmly and clearly. “Where is that written?” “What specific law or regulation?” “Can I speak to your supervisor?” Don’t get angry, don’t raise your voice, just persist.
Document everything. Record when legal. Write down names, badge numbers, times, and details. File complaints through official channels. Your individual complaint might not change anything, but patterns matter. Oversight only works when people actually report abuse.
And don’t give up. I know it’s exhausting. I know it’s easier to just hand over the cable ties or the golf ball or whatever else they want. But every time we do that, we make it easier for them to do it to the next person.
The Question You Need to Ask
He still packs cable ties when he travels. Every single trip. And every time he approaches security, he wonders if today’s officer will be professional or petty. Whether they’ll follow the rules or invent new ones.
That uncertainty is the problem. We shouldn’t have to gamble on which version of authority we’ll encounter. We shouldn’t have to hope we get the reasonable officer instead of the one on a power trip.
So, here’s my challenge to you: the next time someone in a uniform tells you something is prohibited or illegal or not allowed, ask them one simple question.
“Can you show me where that’s written?”
Then wait for an answer. A real answer, not bluster or threats or appeals to their discretion.
Because the moment we stop asking that question is the moment we accept that power matters more than law. And once we accept that, we’ve lost everything that separates a free society from a police state.
Those cable ties are still in his bag. He’s not giving them up. Not because they matter, but because the principle does.