Misaligned incentives in the Australian immigration system, or: moving to jail

Mandatory sentencing isn't so scary if you would quite like jail

Mark Dodd of the Australian, News International's flagship antipodean paper:

Mandatory sentencing – a key element of Labor's policy to deter asylum boats – is having the opposite effect, encouraging Indonesian crew attracted by Australia's relatively high prison pay. Lawyer and former diplomat Anthony Sheldon says jailed crew members can make $20 a day in Australian jails, in his submission to the Gillard government's expert panel on asylum-seekers.

"The preference of a number of older fishermen is to remain in detention in Australia," Mr Sheldon says in the submission. "Depending on their jobs in prison, they can earn up to $20 per day, making them wealthy beyond comparison upon their return to their villages after their sentence is served. They also receive free dental and medical services during their imprisonment. Combined with the relative safety of their work in prison compared to the dangerous work at sea, Australian imprisonment is very desirable."

If you are trying to deter people by threatening bad things, it really is a good idea to make sure that they actually think of those things as bad. Australia is attempting to deter the people-smugglers asylum seekers pay to get them to its shores by mandating a five-year sentence for any crew member caught. Since the whole point of "asylum boats" is to end up in the hands of the authorities, that ought to be a valid deterrance.

Unfortunately, although Australian prisons aren't very nice by the standards of Australia, for an Indonesian fisherman contemplating a career change, they make an awfully good pitch, as Sheldon makes clear.

Of course, the Indonesians involved are working from incomplete information; as the policy is new, no-one has yet returned home after serving the full sentance. It may be that eventually they get back and tell everyone "steer clear", in which case the issue will come out in the wash. But until then, Australia has to find some other way to render the plan ineffective.

Making Australian prisons as bad as Indonesian ones isn't quite on, but Sheldon has a better idea:

A public awareness campaign about a prisoner exchange treaty with Indonesia, highlighting the fact that boat crews could face the risk of serving the balance of their prison terms in Indonesian jails would have a desired deterrent effect, he said.

Of course, all of this is based on the assumption that deterring the boats is good public policy – which may be the standard view in Australia, but is not necessarily true.

An asylum boat carrying 150 people crosses to Australia. Photograph: Getty Images

Alex Hern is a technology reporter for the Guardian. He was formerly staff writer at the New Statesman. You should follow Alex on Twitter.

Getty
Show Hide image

Rarely has it mattered so little if Manchester United won; rarely has it been so special they did

Team's Europa League victory offers chance for sorely needed celebration of a city's spirit.

Carlo Ancelotti, the Bayern Munich manager, memorably once said that football is “the most important of the least important things”, but he was only partly right. While it is absolutely the case that a bunch of people chasing around a field is insignificant, a bunch of people chasing around a field is not really what football is about.

At a football match can you set aside the strictures that govern real life and freely scream, shout and cuddle strangers. Football tracks life with such unfailing omnipresence, garnishing the mundane with regular doses of drama and suspense; football is amazing, and even when it isn’t there’s always the possibility that it’s about to be.

Football bestows primal paroxysms of intense, transcendent ecstasy, shared both with people who mean everything and people who mean nothing. Football carves out time for people it's important to see and delivers people it becomes important to see. Football is a structure with folklore, mythology, language and symbols; being part of football is being part of something big, special, and eternal. Football is the best thing in the world when things go well, and still the best thing in the world when they don’t. There is nothing remotely like it. Nothing.

Football is about community and identity, friends and family; football is about expression and abandon, laughter and song; football is about love and pride. Football is about all the beauty in the world.

And the world is a beautiful place, even though it doesn’t always seem that way – now especially. But in the horror of terror we’ve seen amazing kindness, uplifting unity and awesome dignity which is the absolute point of everything.

In Stockholm last night, 50,000 or so people gathered for a football match, trying to find a way of celebrating all of these things. Around town before the game the atmosphere was not as boisterous as usual, but in the ground the old conviction gradually returned. The PA played Bob Marley’s Three Little Birds, an Ajax staple with lyrics not entirely appropriate: there is plenty about which to worry, and for some every little thing is never going to be alright.

But somehow the sentiment felt right and the Mancunian contingent joined in with gusto, following it up with “We’ll never die,” – a song of defiance born from the ashes of the Munich air disaster and generally aired at the end of games, often when defeat is imminent. Last night it was needed from the outset, though this time its final line – “we’ll keep the red flag flying high, coz Man United will never die" – was not about a football team but a city, a spirit, and a way of life. 

Over the course of the night, every burst of song and even the minute's silence chorused with that theme: “Manchester, Manchester, Manchester”; “Manchester la la la”; “Oh Manchester is wonderful”. Sparse and simple words, layered and complex meanings.

The match itself was a curious affair. Rarely has it mattered so little whether or not United won; rarely has it been so special that they did. Manchester United do not represent or appeal to everyone in Manchester but they epitomise a similar brilliance to Manchester, brilliance which they take to the world. Brilliance like youthfulness, toughness, swagger and zest; brilliance which has been to the fore these last three days, despite it all.

Last night they drew upon their most prosaic aspects, outfighting and outrunning a willing but callow opponent to win the only trophy to have eluded them. They did not make things better, but they did bring happiness and positivity at a time when happiness and positivity needed to be brought; football is not “the most important of the least important things,” it is the least important of the most important things.

0800 7318496