Day: November 20, 2025
Jessica Christian/San Francisco Chronicle via Getty Images
- The TSA proposed an $18 fee for travelers without acceptable ID at airport security checkpoints.
- The fee aims to fund biometric kiosks to streamline identity verification and reduce delays.
- It’s not a guarantee flyers clear security, and the $18 is non-refundable.
The Transportation Security Administration has taken a page from the budget airline playbook.
The agency filed a new proposal on Thursday that would charge travelers $18 at security checkpoints if they show up without a REAL ID or another acceptable government-issued ID, such as a passport or permanent resident card.
The fee covers the cost of creating and maintaining the new program and would essentially be required for an agent to access a biometric kiosk system designed to verify a traveler’s identity more quickly than the current manual process.
The fee is optional, but flyers without acceptable ID risk not being allowed on their flight if they don’t pay up.
It’s unclear when the rule to spur more REAL ID adoption could go into effect. The filing said it’ll begin when the agency opens registrations for the program on its website.
Under the proposal, the $18 would be valid for 10 days, meaning travelers without compliant ID documents wouldn’t necessarily pay the fee every single trip within that window.
The TSA said the new technology would be less time and resource-intensive than the current process when a flyer lacks these IDs, which involves providing personal information or answering detailed questions to match flyers to government databases. They also face extra screening of their carry-ons and persons.
But it added that the kiosks would just be an alternative attempt to verify a flyer’s identity — it’s not a guarantee. Those who can’t clear airport security through any means would not be refunded the $18. And they may still be subject to additional screening.
The TSA said the program would require spending on data infrastructure, software development, program management, and compliance. It added that it may impose a limit on how many times an individual could use the kiosk.
It’s unclear if TSA agents would be the ones to collect the fee when a flyer opts into the program. The TSA did not immediately respond to a question about where the fee will be paid and what payment types it will accept.
The fee-based system would be separate from the TSA’s existing use of facial recognition technology, which is already deployed voluntarily at dozens of airports nationwide — including major hubs like New York-JFK, Boston Logan, Denver, and Atlanta.
“This notice serves as a next step in the process in REAL ID compliance, which was signed into law more than 20 years ago,” a TSA spokesperson told Business Insider. Congress passed the REAL ID Act of 2005 in response to the 9/11 attacks, but it just rolled out in 2025.
They added that additional guidance would come in the “coming days” and that the rate of ID compliance is around 94%; a REAL ID card shows a star inside a circle in its upper right corner.
In May, the TSA began requiring travelers to present a REAL ID or another government-approved identification to pass through airport security checkpoints.
Provided by Jeff’s Bagel Run
- Jeff Perera became a stay-at-home dad after he lost his job in retail.
- He and his wife had been searching Florida for a true New York-style bagel — until he started to make them himself.
- They sold their house, raised $28,000 on Kickstarter, and opened a bagel shop
This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Jeff Perera, 48, the cofounder of Jeff’s Bagel Run. It has been edited for length and clarity.
I met my wife while working at Target, marking the beginning of what became a decadeslong career in retail. Over the years, I moved into leadership roles at several major brands before eventually joining a senior living company in a senior role.
Then, in August 2019, I got a call that changed everything: I was being let go. At the time, my wife, Danielle — who’d also built a successful career — was home full-time with our four kids.
At first, settling into the role of stay-at-home dad wasn’t natural — not because of the dad part, but because I was often the only dad at the park or play group.
Still, it gave me a rare chance to slow down. Danielle, who had decided to return to corporate work around that time, helped me realize I’d never really taken a step back to ask what I wanted next.
My identity had been closely tied to my job for years. I had no idea that space would make room for a question that would change everything: “Jeff, can you make me a bagel?”
When you can’t find the best bagel
Some people go on coffee runs. Others go on Target runs or beer runs. For Danielle and me, it was always a weekly bagel run. But living in Central Florida — a true bagel desert — meant driving 45 minutes to find a decent New York-style bagel.
So when my wife popped the question, given my newfound free time, I decided to try making her the perfect bagel.
Danielle has vivid childhood memories of bagels, riding in her mom’s station wagon on Long Island, eating one fresh from the bag. The best foods, of course, can transport us back to moments we just want to taste one more time.
The problem was, I’d never baked anything in my life. I had zero culinary training. I just looked up the first recipe I could find and got to work. Those first bagels were terrible — dense, misshapen, and far from New York standards. But that only inspired me to try again.
Every day, Danielle would come home from work to a new batch waiting for her to critique.
Then the pandemic hit, and my family was locked down with a mad bagel scientist. I’d make up to six dozen bagels a day. Bowls of dough covered the counters, each marked with recipe notes. My kids helped knead and mix, turning the kitchen into a full-on test lab.
Danielle would taste and review each one — the chewiness, the salt, the crust. Eventually, she joked that her work clothes might stop fitting if I didn’t stop baking. So, we started giving them away.
Provided by Jeff’s Bagel Run
Getting it right
The look on my wife’s face when I finally nailed the perfect bagel was unforgettable. We looked at each other and asked: Could we actually sell these?
I made a simple flyer, posted on Instagram, and sold a few dozen. One of our early customers was a local journalist who wrote about us, and suddenly we had more orders than we could handle.
Our kitchen exploded into a full-scale operation. We had five refrigerators stretching into the garage, extension cords running everywhere, and breakers popping constantly. We upgraded our confection ovens.
In the third week of the pandemic, we started posting our bagel menu. Our bagels were selling out in seconds. During one stretch, we baked for 27 days straight. I delivered bagels across town, spreading a little joy during lockdown.
Scaling up
In 2020, we did our first in-person market. People lined up for a block to buy bagels. The next year, a downpour hit mid-market, and every other vendor packed up. But our line stayed. We threw tarps over the bagels, and people showed up soaked to buy half a dozen. That’s when we knew we had something real.
We sold our house and launched a Kickstarter campaign with a $10,000 goal. We raised over $22,000 from 276 backers, enough to buy equipment and take the next step. Danielle quit her job, and together we opened our first store in Ocoee, Florida, in 2021.
Today, Jeff’s Bagel Run — named after our weekly drives to find the best bagels — is a growing franchise with more than 100 stores in six states, and counting.
Provided by Jeff’s Bagel Run
Peace, love, and bagels
Starting a business with your spouse can be tough. We make it work by having short memories; what happens at work stays at work.
Our corporate leadership training kicks in when we need to manage challenges or each other, but at the end of the day, we always choose “us” over the business.
Building something from scratch taught me a lot about trust, not just in my partner but in myself. In my corporate days, I always had a mentor or a boss to call for advice. Now, it’s just us.
The United States’ “War on Drugs,” inaugurated in the early 1970s, set out to suppress domestic drug consumption and dismantle trafficking networks through a combination of aggressive law enforcement, interdiction and crop eradication overseas.
Yet, half a century on, U.S. anti-drug policies have neither appreciably reduced U.S. demand nor eradicated the international drug trade.
Instead, they have externalized violence, instability and the socio-economic costs of prohibition onto weaker states in Latin America, West Africa and Southeast Asia.
What began as an effort to protect U.S. citizens has evolved into a global project of border externalization, where the true collateral damage is borne far from Washington in societies ill-equipped to absorb it.
The exportation of violence
In Latin America, U.S. initiatives such as Plan Colombia (2000–present) and Mexico’s Mérida Initiative (2009–2021, later renamed the Acuerdo Bicentenario) illustrate the unintended consequences of military-focused aid.
Plan Colombia channeled billions in U.S. military hardware, training and budgetary support to Bogotá, targeting coca eradication and guerrilla groups. Although coca cultivation fell in some regions, rural communities suffered displacement when fumigation campaigns destroyed both illicit and licit crops.
At the same time, paramilitary forces and some elements of the Colombian military committed human rights abuses — so-called “false positives” — killing civilians and presenting them as guerrilla combatants to secure bonuses and equipment.
Far from promoting peace, these tactics fueled grievances and deepened mistrust in state institutions.
Mexico’s cartel scourge
Mexico’s Mérida Initiative, likewise, sent weapons, surveillance equipment and training to Mexican federal forces to stem cartel violence. Yet, from 2006 to 2015, homicide rates soared, surpassing the previous decade’s peaks.
Cartels fragmented into increasingly violent cells, and competition over lucrative trafficking routes intensified.
Local police forces, unable to resist better-armed criminal groups, became complicit in corruption or were overwhelmed altogether.
Rather than rebuilding trust in civilian law enforcement, the emphasis on military operations entrenched a perception that violence was the only effective response to organized crime.
West African transit routes
In West Africa, fragile states such as Guinea-Bissau and Ghana have become transit points for cocaine from Latin America bound for European markets. Lured by international funding for counter-narcotics operations, national security forces often lack the institutional safeguards to manage large-scale assistance.
Rather than curbing trafficking, programs inadvertently strengthened corrupt networks: Military officers and local elites diverted aid, profited from protection rackets and used state funds to fortify personal power bases.
In a region grappling with poverty and weak governance, the influx of drug-war resources has exacerbated instability, triggering coups and hollowing out legitimate state capacity.
The arms trade and the globalization of criminal markets
A critical enabler of today’s cross-border violence is the unregulated flow of arms. The United States remains the world’s largest exporter of conventional weapons, supplying partner nations with rifles, aircraft and surveillance systems. Yet significant numbers of these weapons leak into illicit markets.
In Mexico alone, an estimated 70% of firearms seized at cartel crime scenes are traced to U.S. origins. Similarly, in Central America’s Northern Triangle — Guatemala, Honduras and El Salvador — smuggled U.S. pistols and assault rifles arm gangs that terrorize urban poor communities.
Beyond the Western Hemisphere, traffickers connect drug markets with arms dealers in Eastern Europe and the Middle East, creating a truly global network of organized crime.
These weapons not only escalate the lethality of turf wars but also enable criminal syndicates to diversify into human trafficking, illegal mining and wildlife poaching.
Each new illicit market generates fresh revenue streams, reinforcing a cycle of violence that no single country can defeat alone.
The militarization of security and human rights abuses
U.S. funding for military‐style anti-drug operations frequently overlooks the human rights implications of blurring law enforcement with warfare. In the Philippines, President Rodrigo Duterte’s 2016 “War on Drugs” adopted a shoot-to-kill approach reminiscent of U.S. interdiction tactics.
Over one hundred thousand suspected drug users and dealers have died, many in extrajudicial executions carried out by police working under “kill quotas.”
The resulting climate of fear extends far beyond individuals directly involved in drugs. Ordinary citizens and civil society actors face intimidation — eroding public trust in institutions meant to protect them.
Colombia’s “false positives” scandal offers another cautionary tale. Military units, rewarded for high body counts, executed innocent civilians — farmers, street vendors and displaced persons — then dressed them in guerrilla garb to claim battlefield kills.
International outcry eventually triggered investigations, but the damage — tens of thousands of lives lost, communities torn apart and the army’s reputation shattered — was irreparable.
In both cases, the celebration of “success metrics” over due process has shown that militarized approaches to drug control not only fail to stem the flow of illicit substances but also corrode the social contract between citizens and the state.
The global trend of crisis externalization
The externalization paradigm extends beyond drugs. Faced with migration surges, wealthy states increasingly offload border management duties onto poorer neighbors.
The European Union’s deals with North African countries to host asylum-seekers and the United States’ cooperation with Central American governments to detain and process migrants are emblematic.
Similarly, climate change — driven largely by industrialized nations — disproportionately devastates low-income countries, which receive scant assistance to adapt. Each policy shifts the burden of problems created by developed states onto those least responsible and least able to cope.
Regional destabilization and the rise of authoritarian responses
As violence and illicit economies engulf societies, public demand for “strongman” solutions often grows. In El Salvador, the “mano dura” (iron fist) anti-gang policy embraced mass arrests, military patrolling of slum districts and razor-wire perimeter fencing.
Crime statistics temporarily dipped, but high-profile crackdowns did little to dismantle the social networks that feed gang recruitment. Instead, overcrowded prisons — run by gang leaders from within — became incubators for further criminal organization.
Similar dynamics play out across Latin America and Africa: Hard-line rhetoric and heavy-handed tactics gain political popularity even as they sacrifice civil liberties and entrench authoritarian governance.
Shared responsibility and the illusion of reform
Despite periodic pledges of “shared responsibility,” global drug control remains dominated by punitive, U.S.-led paradigms. International forums echo calls for “alternative development,” yet budgets for eradication and interdiction dwarf those for crop substitution, rural education or public health.
Producer-country governments, reliant on foreign aid packages, face a stark choice: Adopt militarized strategies to maintain funding or risk political isolation. The result is an illusion of reform — talk of human rights and demand reduction masking a continued emphasis on supply suppression.
The urgent need for global drug policy transformation
A sustainable resolution demands a fundamental shift in perspective. First, decriminalization of personal use and possession must replace incarceration as the default response. Portugal’s experience — where decriminalization coincided with reductions in overdose deaths, HIV infections and overall drug use — demonstrates the efficacy of health-centered models.
Second, harm-reduction services (needle exchanges, supervised consumption sites) should be expanded and destigmatized. Third, long-term investments in education, employment and rural infrastructure can address the root socio-economic drivers of drug cultivation and trafficking.
Finally, genuine multilateralism requires that policy debates include the voices of affected communities: Small-scale farmers in the Andes, civic-society organizations in West Africa and public-health experts in Southeast Asia.
Only by recognizing drug policy as a matter of global development and human rights — rather than solely as a national security concern — can the international community dismantle the cycle of exported violence and build resilient societies across the Global South.
The clock has run on half-a-century of misplaced priorities. It is time to end the externalization of crisis and forge a more just, cooperative approach to drugs on a truly global scale.
The post Exporting Crisis: How the War on Drugs Destabilized the Global South appeared first on The Globalist.
