Like when you say some people are in your country, and some aren’t, and then you say that the people are not in your country don’t count.  You can’t do that without consequences.

What does that mean?

It means that someone who has run to your door, and is pounding on it to be let in because they are being chased by psychopaths, is met by you saying: “sorry, mate, you’re not from around here, you’re going to need to bugger of.”

But there’s this: countries don’t exist.  They’re made up.  It might be easy to think countries are real when you live on an island, but that’s not a “country” that’s a bunch of people with the same language and culture stuck together because of the sea.  If you get rid of the idea of countries then what you’re saying is: because you are from a place ten metres over there I have no obligation to help you even if you and your family are in deadly peril.  Which is, I hope we can all agree, bonkers.

If we let everyone into our weird false concept called a country who will bloody pay for it?  Eh?

Well, if we don’t who will pay for that?  Who will pay for a generation of people in refugee camps without healthcare, education and hope?  You can’t just do what you want without consequences for either others of your brothers and sisters, or the ecosystems.  Shouldn’t we make decisions that have positive consequences?

Let in refugees.



That was an excerpt from one of my policies.  The one called: “FFS are you still being an arse about refugees?”

“You can’t do whatever you want.”

It’s Lonely On My Soapbox, 2017


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I wrote a book called Kaitiaki o te Pō