Kiwianarama

"...and then you plant the drugs when she's not watching, like so."

For a country whose primary export is Tourism, New Zealand sure has some clever ways to stop people getting in.

Of course, if there is an irony to New Zealand’s obsession with border control, it is this; arrive at Auckland airport wearing a Burqa and waving a Semtex-smeared copy of the Holy Qur’an, and you’ll be sunning your barely-exposed ankles on Piha beach within the hour. But try to sneak in the un-eaten half of a croissant the airline gave you for breakfast, and expect to be deported to Afghanistan quicker than you can say ‘Death to the Infidels’.

So how did New Zealand come to have such a pedantic and meddling customs service, in the absence of any real threats to our national security?

For a proper explanation, we must first consider the unspoken rule of membership to the OECD, which is that member nations are required to prove that their country is so prosperous, so damn sexy to the peoples of the undeveloped world, that they must, quite literally, beat them back with a shitty stick.

Hence the border services of USA, Australia, Germany, France & Italy, which are assaulted daily by a seemingly endless tide of illegal migrant workers and suicidal religious extremists. Good reason, in other words, for all the metal detectors, finger print scans, and hordes of volunteer armed rednecks patrolling the borders. All of which contributes toward making the modern experience of entering these countries at best, scary, and at worst, humiliating. But, as you come away sore (or soiled), you can at least console yourself in the knowledge that there some basis for their unfriendly levels of customs security.

When it comes to our fair islands, however, even the Mexicans have done the math, working out that there is more money to be made tossing tortillas in Tijuana, than by taking the average desk job in New Zealand.

And when you can’t even count on the Mexicans to flood your illegal labour market, who does that leave?

Which is why, in yet another case of keeping up with the Jones, New Zealand has had to ‘cook the books’, if you will – turning an otherwise slow trickle of trainspotters, bungee-jumping German backpackers, and Lord of The Rings nutters, into a ‘clear and present immigration and bio-security threat‘, by inventing a clever, if confusing, series of security checks, customs documentation and landing card forms.

It’s basic bouncer logic. Make the punters queue outside your empty nightclub, and people will believe it’s cool. Effective, but oh so lame.

To give you an example, the following are actual questions¹ taken from a NZ Customs landing card survey. For sake of authenticity, try not to sleep for 46 hours before answering them, and, if you get one wrong, ask a complete stranger to insert something cold and rubbery someplace where the sun doesn’t frequently shine, then slap you with a $600 fine;

• Have you, or haven’t you, not never recently been, or not been, in contact with with farm animals? (Yes or no. Or yeahnah.)
• At which port did you board this aircraft? (Trick question, only boats use ports, idiot.)
• Which countries have you visited in the last six months?
• Which countries haven’t you visited in the last six months? (There’s 195 in the world², so don’t leave any out, or else…*sound of snapping rubber*)
• Is Crowded House an Australian or New Zealand band?
• Is Russel Crowe an Australian or New Zealand actor? (Double trick question, both countries have officially disowned him. Plus he’s not an actor, he’s a dick.)
• What is the square root of 3237899?
• Are you trafficking any illegal drugs? (Well you would tell us if you were, wouldn’t you?)
• Are you carrying more than $5000 in cash?
• If the answer to the previous question was ‘Yes’, do you promise to spend it on Chinese made soft-toy Kiwis, plastic Tikis and T-shirts that say “I went to Rotorua, and all I got was this T shirt (to cover the 3rd degree burns I sustained after falling in a boiling hot mud-pool)”..?

To further add to the cultural cringe, in the good old Kiwi spirit of egalitarianism (and also smacking just a little of Tall Poppy Syndrome), NZ Customs takes an almost gleeful pride in treating every visitor – regardless of profile or celebrity status – with the same parochial authoritarian tone. As in; “Look, now, you may be a big deal up in London, Mr Jagger, but you’re in New Zealand now, so quit whinging and bend over.”

Unless, that is, you are a suspected terrorist, where, far from being unwelcome, you may be positively encouraged. But there is a catch…

As a condition of entry, you must let Dave Dobbyn dedicate at least one song to you. In public. Preferably at some manner of ‘Benefit Concert’. And a real celebrity studded, orgy-of-smugness, one at that.

Given a choice between that, and returning to the water boarding and 2 by 2 cages of Guantanamo, it is worth noting that a small (but not insignificant) number of terrorist refugees have chosen the latter.

It’s only a shame the rest of us can’t too.

1 – The actual-ness off of these questions can not be guaranteed.
2 – 194 countries if you don’t recognise Israel You know who you are ..Mahmoud Ahmadinejad.