Just two seconds

by Gavin De Becker; Thomas A. Taylor; Jeff Marquart

  Access + Commitment + Target + Time

  When attackers have these ingredients and yet do not act, they start thinking too much, allowing thoughts and distractions to get in their way. Is that person a guard or an aide? I wonder if he'll turn around and face me soon? Am I close enough? Is my target wearing a bullet-resistant vest? These examples of thinking show us something of equal relevance to our mission (and important enough that it merits the entire next chapter): The act of thinking is not an act at all. Thinking invites all kinds of information to get in your way.

  Playing either role (protector or attacker) teaches this essential lesson again and again: If an attentive protector is close, all of the attacker's advantages quickly evaporate once he presents a gun. From then on, time starts passing very quickly. It brings to mind the old saying "Time flies when you're having fun" -- only now, it's "Time flies when you're waving a gun."

  In Thomas Perry's book Sleeping Dogs, a mafia hit man gives an instructive account:

  Once you're in, you're like an egg in a frying pan. You get two seconds to get in, see him and pop him. You stand still more than a second at any step, you heat up and fry.

  Protective and Projective Roles

  Speaking broadly, there are two categories for protectors:

  Projective: Those who are closest to an audience, crowd, bystanders, onlookers, or site perimeter. They assume responsibility for offensive actions, such as blocking, disruption of aim, charging, overpowering and neutralizing attackers, taking custody, etc. We call this category "Projective" because their mission is to project energy and force outward, away from the protectee.

  Protective: Those closest to the protectee and expected to take defensive actions, such as shielding, covering, moving, and evacuating. Their mission is to defend the protectee.

  Everything you've read thus far about reaching the attacker in time applies equally to reaching the protectee in time to shield, cover, move, or evacuate.

  Which of the two actions -- protective or projective -- is most likely to defeat an attacker? Like a parent reluctant to name a favorite child, we might want to say that both of these important roles are equal, but that's not quite true. Assuming equal proximity (protector-to-attacker and protector-to-protectee), the actions of bodyguards in the Projective role are the actions most likely to be decisive during an attack. When seen through the rapid shutter of an attack, a protector who acts projectively (against an assailant) is more effective in the time available than one who acts to move or shield the protectee. Though many people view the bodyguard's role as primarily defensive, the fact remains that actions against the attacker will usually be the most important. Just as in sports, the game cannot be won through defense only.

  During a handgun attack, for example, protectors acting projectively have to reach the assailant and then disrupt aim. That's all they have to do. During the same attack, those responsible for protective actions have to reach the protectee, then move the protectee somewhere (away, down, out), or move themselves in front of the protectee. Any of these actions takes much more energy and time than, say, moving an attacker's arm one inch. When an attack is underway, the admirable (and almost never reached) goal of intentionally placing one's body between the protectee and an attacker will be relevant only if the protector is already very close to the protectee -- and even then, someone would still have to stop the attacker from continuing to do harm. All things considered, when we can choose where to be during an attack, being at an attacker will usually get better results than being at a protectee.

  In the case of most rifle attacks, which usually occur from some distance and without warning (i.e., the gunshot is the first event that stimulates the Moment of Recognition), then protective responses are all you've got.

  Of course, having protectors in both projective and protective roles affords the best situation of all, and few cases make this clearer than the assassination by sword of Inejiro Asanuma, Socialist Party Chairman in Japan (Compendium Case #69).

  (c) NHK Television/Japan

  In the photo you can see the attacker about to stab the Chairman with a sword. He has already stabbed him once, but this will be the mortal injury. Everyone is moving except the protectee. Four people are courageously intervening to grab the attacker -- and yet at this instant nobody is seeking to block or move the protectee. Had Chairman Asanuma been moved even slightly in any direction, the outcome might well have been different. And, had the attacker's aim been disrupted in any way, he'd likely have failed to kill the Chairman. We see that projective and protective actions are both important -- and combined, they are likely to be decisive.

  Moving Is Usually Best

  The Compendium cases show that even in situations less obvious than the Asanuma attack, protectees are almost always safer being moved from wherever they are when an attack starts to somewhere else. This might mean moving them a short distance (down, to the side, back) or a great distance (to the cars and away).

  Among many reasons to move rather than stay put:

  Attackers lose accuracy when required to track, so moving the protectee will reduce the chances of injury.

  Protectors cannot know in the instant of attack what other hazards might be present or about to happen. The attack might not be over; it might have only just begun.

  Even if the attack itself has ended, order is usually difficult to maintain after an incident (due to the emotion and reactions of people present). You can always bring the protectee back if things normalize quickly, but you cannot always easily leave if you've waited too long.

  After an attack, even an unsuccessful one, protectors themselves need time to regroup, to assimilate what's happened, and to regain readiness for their job. An attack (or even a scare) takes much of the energy protectors have got.

  An injury might not be immediately apparent, as in the case of President Reagan's shooting.

  Out of public view, it will be easier to assess the impact of the incident (embarrassment from a pie in the face, wrestling with a paparazzi photographer, the attacker's gun turns out to be a starter's pistol, for example), and develop a PR posture in response to it.

  Attackers understandably want as much time as possible to transpire between their Moment of Commitment and your Moment of Recognition. Since most attacks involve noise (gunshots, screams, grunts), it's difficult to attack without drawing any attention at all, but there have been some notable exceptions, cases in which nobody -- not even injured victims -- was immediately aware that an attack had occurred. Taiwanese President Chen Shui-bian and his Vice-president Annette Lu were both shot while standing in an open car. (Taiwan has the awful tradition of igniting celebratory fireworks as the Presidential motorcade rolls by, so nobody can really discern the sound of gunfire.) The Vice-president felt some pain in her knee and the President felt wetness on his stomach area that turned out to be blood, but the attack wasn't recognized by targets or protectors until it was long over (Compendium Case #399).

  This case demonstrates the obvious: Protectors can begin their response only after they recognize an attack is underway -- and that recognition is a mental process stimulated by physical events. In this chapter, we've seen how effectively the body can react when thought is removed from the process. Though it might sound paradoxical, we'll next explore how effectively the mind can react when mind is removed from the process.

  "Not being tense, but ready. Not thinking but not dreaming. Not being set but flexible. Liberation from the uneasy sense of confinement. It is being wholly and quietly alive, aware and alert, ready for whatever may come."

  Martial Arts Master

  Mind Chapter 3

  Essential Lesson of this Chapter:

  All attacks happen at the same time: Now. If you intend to meet the attack, you must be there mentally, not just physically. Readiness exists only when both mind and body are prepared.

  Walking into the campaign event with the Governor and his wife, you overhear snippets of their intense conversation. It s
eems he's forgotten something; no, she's forgotten it. She's sorry, she needs it, left it behind, on the sink, in the suite, nobody's fault. The Governor turns to you and says, "Hey, do me a favor: During dinner, ask somebody to get Elaine's makeup case from the suite. Just be sure somebody grabs it and gets it to the car before we go. Thanks."

  An innocent-seeming request, but the Governor has just given you a mental virus. Because of this bug, everything in the Now will become a distraction from Operation Makeup Case. More importantly, Operation Makeup Case will become a distraction from the Now. You imagine pulling up to the airport in two hours and realizing you forgot the makeup case. You imagine the Governor judging your entire worth on the basis of this one oversight, saying, or at least thinking, "The guy can't even remember the simplest thing!"

  All the while, as you stand near the elevated platform where the Governor and his wife are sitting down to pretend they're having dinner, your mind is fighting with itself -- and losing:

  "Isn't that the same guy who made the big disturbance at that rally, the guy who wouldn't let go of the Governor's arm? Keep an eye on him. Hard to imagine he's got the money to buy a ticket for this reception. Does it look like he's here alone, or with someone? Makeup case, makeup case, makeup case. He seems to be keeping his distance; he's joining people at that table. Good time to radio somebody to call the front desk. No, better not rely on anyone with the hotel; I'll send one of our guys up to the suite. He'll have to get a key. That is the same guy, something about the Governor invading his privacy via computer. I knew we'd see him again. Who can I spare to go to the suite? I'd hate to take Steve off the car. What if we have to leave early? I'll ask Anne. No, she may think I chose her because she's a woman. He's up from his table... headed this way? No, toward the back, maybe the bathroom or something. Makeup case, makeup case. My wife carries her makeup in her purse; she doesn't need a whole case. It sounds so professional: makeup case. I guess being the Governor's wife is a sort of a profession. He's coming this way. No, it's not the same guy -- unless he's gained weight. OK, Steve goes to the suite, hands me the car keys as he passes by so I can drive if it comes to that. Anne can stay on post. Steve can take the makeup case right to the car. I could ask one of the staffers, but the last time I asked Bradford for something, he said, 'Hey I'm doing my job -- I'm here to meet people.' Well, I'm here to meet people too, the kind of people who can cause serious problems, the kind Bradford wouldn't want to handle. Where'd that guy disappear to? Makeup case, makeup case. Where's that guy? Oh shit, that's him grabbing the Governor's shoulder right now. I wish I'd..."

  "I wish I'd ..." are three words you never want in a protection story.

  Since peripheral assignments like this derail our focus, one solution is to handle them immediately, and then get back to the Now as soon as possible. But even after the makeup case is handled, that hardly solves the other 60,000 distractions a day we create on our own.

  You see, your mind, like everyone else's, doesn't care what it's chewing on -- as long as it's chewing. The mind doesn't need the Governor to distract you. Threat case or makeup case, it's all the same. The mind is built to pose and answer questions, to tell and re-tell stories, to explain things, to figure them out, to divide them, to put them in categories, to turn them over, to compare them, to grind everything down to its smallest particle, to attach each experience to a memory, to draw some conclusion, to treat irrelevant, unconnected facts as if they are great clues, and then use the manufactured clues to solve mysteries, as if they are great mysteries. The undisciplined mind is a constant assembly line that painstakingly produces thousands of useless gadgets every hour, and only rarely puts together something of value.

  Come to Your Senses

  When a protector is lost in thought, he is literally lost to the present moment. To be there in space is one thing, but to be there in time is the main thing. To be present means to be pre-sent, to already be there when it happens. Since the nature of the mind is to wander, it must somehow be coaxed into the current moment, tamed specifically for protective work.

  The big question, perhaps the biggest question in protection, perhaps the biggest challenge in any important endeavor is How to stay in the present moment. The answers: Commitment, physical readiness, conditioning of the mind, and practice at seeing each new event as really new. This will all require freedom from craving.

  Few things remove a person from the present moment as completely as craving. Imagine a smoker on a protective assignment, three hours since his last cigarette. The space between every relevant perception is quickly filled by the urge to have a cigarette. All day, he is riding the addiction roller coaster, chugging his way up the steep track toward satisfaction, thinking of little but reaching the top, perhaps getting a cigarette and then rolling downward into the next valley, a valley in which he'll predictably slow to a chug as he climbs up the next steep track. Craving, imagining, planning, anticipating, attaining, satisfaction, and then a brief moment of freedom from craving -- till the cycle starts again, and then again.

  A note from Gavin de Becker: Some readers might already be aware that our firm deploys a nicotine-free workforce. That doesn't mean simply no smoking at work. It means no smoking or other tobacco use at any time. Every employee in our firm is nicotine-free, 24 hours a day, and we have random urinalysis to ensure it.

  Years ago when I made that decision there was some controversy. I took a fair amount of criticism: Was I trying to control the off-duty lives of our protectors? Did my firm have the legal right to disqualify applicants who used tobacco? Etc.

  We learned that some military sniper units had made the same decision about nicotine use because (among other reasons) snipers might be positioned at concealed locations for hours and must be careful not to reveal their location through lighting a match, for example. And even with the stakes involved, do you know what many addicted smokers do when in concealed sniper positions for hours? They light the match. Of course. They have no choice. A highly stressful situation is hardly the ideal circumstance to quit a powerful addiction. And if they resist the cravings, what happens to precision and accuracy after a few hours without nicotine? Let's just say it's not improved: hands shaking, blurred vision, inability to concentrate, looking for any opportunity to take a break and get a cigarette -- all things that distance the smoker from our goal of being present.

  So when I was facing this decision I thought: Can I really look at our clients -- who trust us to protect their safety and to protect their children -- and say:

  "We are completely committed to your safety, except for this one thing: We assign people who are either withdrawing from or dosing themselves with a consciousness-changing chemical, hour-by-hour, all day, every day -- and they'll often be thinking of ways to fulfill their cravings rather than thinking of being in the right place at the right time."

  When people asked if I was trying to control the off-duty lives of our associates, I replied Yes -- and not just trying. I was ensuring it through testing. There are many policies and requirements that influence the off-duty behavior of professionals: You can't smoke pot or have a few beers an hour before work. A pilot can't arrive at work drunk or exhausted and expect everyone to accept the off-duty choices that left him in that condition. You can't pass our Physical Fitness and Readiness test each year unless you dedicate some of your off-hours time to exercise. Professional readiness requires a full commitment, period.

  Imagine you owned a racecar. You certainly wouldn't let someone pour anything in the fuel tank that would detract from peak engine performance. Now carry that thought to a biological example: Imagine you own a champion racehorse. You wouldn't give it nicotine.

  I've been told we're the only protection operation on earth that maintains a nicotine-free workforce -- I don't know, but I hope it's not true.

  People crave ingestibles other than nicotine, of course. Depending upon a protector's habits, addictions, metabolism, nutrition, and peace of mind, he might crave sugar, coffee, chocol
ate, or even food itself. It's obvious that to do their best work protectors must be in excellent physical condition, so obvious that it's taken for granted in these pages that serious protectors will be in excellent physical condition. However, a person can appear to be in excellent physical condition, and yet still be slave to cravings. The concepts we're about to explore might well be the most important in protective work, and they require the willingness to condition the mind through practice.

  Among other things, this means avoiding the trampoline-like effect of cravings. Sugar is the prime example of something that provides a bounce, a brief moment that feels like flight, then the rapid and weighty descent to the canvas, and then what feels like low energy, followed by the belief that sugar is needed again to keep going. We said what feels like low energy because, in fact, you have all the energy you need, Snickers bar or no Snickers bar.

  What will help most people to have ready access to their energy is a lifestyle and dietary change involving several smaller meals (as opposed to two or three big ones), and choosing snack foods that metabolize more slowly than sugar. This is made quite difficult by the fact that nearly every snack that's conveniently available is a form of sugar.

  You feel hungry and want to grab something in a hurry. At most populated places throughout the world you can find -- usually within a hundred yards of where you're standing -- someone selling some form of sugar. Think about this: Walk a hundred yards in any direction, into any hotel, gas station, convenience store, pharmacy, even health food store -- and you're likely to find a wide selection of small doses of sugar, offered in a variety of forms, textures, and flavors, with varying levels of deceit in the packaging. You'll also find cigarettes and caffeine just as easily, 24-hours a day, and virtually always within a hundred yards. Why? Because millions of people are addicted to these chemicals. For the purposes of protective work, addiction is defined as any habit that leads to craving. Craving is any strong or uncontrollable desire, any persistent tug on your attention that can be stopped only through feeding it, and even then the cessation is temporary.