BY SARAH STEPHEN
Imagine this: it's 2005, and a fundamentalist Christian regime has come to power in New Zealand. In its effort to consolidate power, it is undertaking a campaign of systematic persecution of all those who have organised against it — religious leaders, left-wing campaigners, trade unionists, human rights activists, even those who were just too vocal in their opinions.
Many people flee the country in any way they can. Some are able to escape with false documents on airplanes. Others take the dangerous risk of a boat journey to Australia.
Imagine you are one of those thousands who face possible death or imprisonment in New Zealand society, and your unwillingness to accept the religious teachings imposed by the new regime.
Your daughter was not allowed the education and freedom to live as she should be allowed, just because she was female. You were caught and tortured for teaching feminist ideas in a public high school, but you escaped death.
Imagine you had to uproot yourself, leave your friends, your family, escaping alone so you didn't arouse unnecessary attention. You could not apply for asylum through the Australian Embassy in New Zealand because the regime had posted spies near every embassy, and was tracking down and jailing all those who tried to leave New Zealand legally.
Imagine you sold your house, and gathered together your life savings, to get to what you thought was going to be a safe country, Australia.
You boarded a boat which took you to Melbourne. It was intercepted off the coast by a Navy ship. You were so excited and relieved to have made it safely across the Tasman. You felt sure that things would be OK now, because Australian people would be aware of how bad things were in New Zealand, how many people had been killed or had just disappeared, how full the jails were. You would be able to start some sort of life again, and bring your daughter over to live with you.
Within hours you find yourself, along with the 50 other people you were travelling with, taken to Maribyrnong detention centre and isolated from the other detainees for five days.
In that time you are questioned about your intentions. The immigration official is cold and suspicious. You feel alarmed, but hope it is a misunderstanding. You explain your background, why you came to Australia. You apply for political asylum.
You are told that what you have done is against Australian law, and that even if you are found to be a genuine refugee you will only be entitled to a three year temporary visa, with no provision to bring your daughter or other family members over to Australia.
You aren't given any idea of how your application for asylum is progressing, or how long it will take to be finalised. You meet other people also in detention who have been there for two, sometimes three, years without ever having been charged with a crime, or having been before a court.
How would you feel? Do you think you might get mad when a guard breaks a man's jaw while he is handcuffed? Do you think you might react angrily to taunts from guards? Do you think you would lose your temper at having your things constantly searched?
The point of this hypothetical scenario?
If an Australian government was even to begin to treat New Zealanders, fellow white English speakers, like this, it would face overwhelming national outrage.
Why then is precisely equivalent treatment of dark-skinned Muslims from the Middle East, fleeing from even more desperate political circumstances, accepted by a majority of Australians?
Racism, pure and simple. It's about time it was stopped and the refugees were freed.