Where were you?

Yesterday, I was catching up on some magazines and got around to the Nov. 21 issue of Time, where a photograph caught my eye. The photograph shows JFK , instantly recognizable from his profile, his stance—at least to people of a certain age. He is standing  on a platform in what looks to be a parking lot in a working-class neighborhood. 

When I first saw this picture, what struck me immediately, almost viscerally, were the people standing on the balconies of a nearby building just beyond Kennedy’s profile. I didn't even process this rationally. I was stunned. Not by the image of Kennedy, although looking at it today brings back memories of where I was on November 22, 1963. No, I was stunned by the people on the balconies. Everyday folks, women in skirts or dresses and men in white shirts, their sleeves rolled up. Standing on open balconies and leaning from windows within a stone’s throw of the president! 

Kennedy, in turn, looks completely exposed, completely vulnerable—and complete unaware of the danger that I sensed instantly. No bullet-proof Plexiglas shield, no hint of a protective vest under his suit (remember the pictures of Bush walking across the White House lawn after 9-11?), no standard-issue Secret Service agents in stiff suits and sunglasses, with little curly cords running down into their collars.  The caption identifies the city as Pittsburgh and the date as sometime in 1962. The year before Kennedy was shot.

The picture brought home how much has changed since the photo was taken. The remarkable changes in how important people move in the world are accepted, expected, ingrained in us all. So ingrained, in fact, that my instant response to this portrayal of how things used to be was an automatic one, not a logical one. It happened on some primitive, gut level: “This is terrifying!” The automatic reaction (from a pacifist!) was that Kennedy needs more armament around him, fast! Where are the tough guys? Where are the police and the National Guard? While we’re at it, where is the Air Force?

Kennedy’s assassination in Dallas 48 years ago today, about a year after this photo was taken, was only one of many assassinations in the US and around the world in the 1960s. In part because of those events, we’re not  likely ever to see a photo like this of a president again.

The photo we’d see now would not show everyday people gathered on neighboring balconies. The balconies would be empty, the buildings “swept” hours before by the Secret Service. There would be no crowds milling about just feet from the podium. Instead, there would be a wide empty perimeter around the stage, multiple Plexiglas shields to protect the president from all directions, a notable bulge in his or her suit, extensive and visible police presence, and plenty of guys (and now women) in sunglasses.

And If I saw that photograph, I would not even notice how I felt. It would simply seem “normal.”

At one level, these changes are good. Protecting the president is important, and these horrific events probably changed forever how we'll see "safety" for the president. But then, 9-11 shifted the target. Not just heads of state but everyday folks, like those standing on the balconies, are in danger. This was always true in some parts of the world, but not here. So the wish to protect shifted, too. To the Secret Service, we added TSA and x-ray machines at building entrances. To the perimeter around the president we added body scanners and bomb-sniffing dogs at airports. Now, I start getting worried. [Naomi Wolff worries, too]

There’s no doubt that the world can be dangerous and that we are all vulnerable. But I worry that we’re forgetting to think about how we respond as we try to fashion complete safety from an unsafe world. I worry that fear can make us accept changes, step by small step, that we wouldn't tolerate if they were imposed all of a piece. I worry that fear gets the best of us. I’m not saying I’m any good at this. Heck, my reaction to this picture was visceral before it was logical. That tells me that in situations like this, my first response is not that I think. No, I fear.

Benjamin Franklin famously said, “Those who would give up essential liberty to purchase a little temporary safety deserve neither liberty not safety.” It seems important that we realize how easily we slide into this place where we are driven by fear for our safety.

This picture reminded me of how much things have changed. I'm glad the current president has more protection than Kennedy did. But I worry about how thoughtlessly we got where we are. And I worry about where we might go from here.

[An earlier online issue of Time included a photo gallery that will take you straight back to “Camelot,” accompanied by a story about the photographer, Jacques Lowe.]