Feynman
12-23-2003, 01:08 PM
http://www.agora-inc.com/
from The Daily Reckoning financial e-zine, Dec 23rd 2003
An Australian journalist gets a taste of Department of
Homeland Security hospitality
by Steven Mikulan
LA Weekly
Sue Smethurst enjoys traveling. It's one of the things
about my job that I absolutely love," says the 30-year-old
Australian, who works as an associate editor for the
women's magazine New Idea. She doesn't even mind flying.
"It's one of the great pleasures of the world to be able to
turn off your cell phone and be where no one can annoy
you."
But when her Qantas flight from Melbourne, Australia,
touched down at LAX around 8 a.m. on Friday, November 14,
Smethurst found herself nightmarishly annoyed - by the
Department of Homeland Security (DHS). Smethurst was
supposed to continue to New York and on Monday interview
singer Olivia Newton-John. Smethurst had honeymooned in
Manhattan last year and was looking forward to a long, free
weekend having a good walk through Central Park, getting a
decent bowl of chicken soup and going Christmas shopping -
all those gorgeous New York things."
Better still, her six-hour layover in L.A. would allow her
to have lunch with her American literary agent. "I had a
room booked at the Airport Hilton, where I was going to my
leave bags, shower and get a cup of coffee."
But first she had to clear LAX's immigration check-in,
which she reached after 20 minutes in line. An officer from
the DHS's newly minted Customs and Border Protection (CBP)
bureau studied the traveler's declaration form Smethurst
had filled out on the plane.
"Oh, you're a journalist," he noted. "What are you here
for?"
"I'm interviewing Olivia Newton-John," Smethurst replied.
"That's nice," the official said, impressed. "What's the
article about?"
"Breast cancer."
When Smethurst tells me this, she pauses and adds, "I
thought that last question was a little odd, but figured
everything's different now in America and it was fine."
What she didn't know was that her assignment and travel
plans, along with the chicken soup and stroll through
Central Park, had been terminated the moment she confirmed
she was a journalist.
Fourteen hours later, she was escorted by three armed
guards onto the 11 p.m. Qantas flight home.
"I want to say right off that I adore America and love
Americans," Smethurst says. Still, she remains perplexed
and emotionally bruised by what followed in Terminal Four.
The CBP agent who read Smethurst's traveler's questionnaire
took her to a secondary inspection area 30 feet away and
told her to wait, then left for half an hour. He returned
with additional uniformed staff who, professionally and
pleasantly enough, asked more questions.
What sort of stories did she write? What kind of magazine
was New Idea?
Where was it published? What was its circulation? Does it
print politically sensitive articles? When would her
interview appear? Who would be reading it?
"I laughed," Smethurst recalls, because we're a cross
between Good Housekeeping and People magazine. "The most
political thing we'd likely print was Laura Bush's
horoscope."
The polite interrogation continued. Who was her father? His
occupation? Her mother's maiden name and occupation? What
were their dates of birth, where did they live?
The agents gravely nodded at Smethurst's replies and left
once more, promising to return. When they came back half an
hour later, one of the officers offered Smethurst a cup of
airport coffee.
"I thought at that stage something was quite wrong,"
Smethurst says, "so I asked the man with the coffee if
there was some problem."
"I will tell you when there's a problem," he abruptly
snapped, according to Smethurst. Then he pointed to a
nearby sign:
Your Silence Is Appreciated
At about noon, CBP informed Smethurst she would be denied
entrée into the United States: While Australian tourists
visiting the United States are visa-waived for 90 days,
working journalists need a special I-Visa, which Smethurst
had not been aware of and did not possess. She had, after
all, flown into LAX on the same passport eight times
previously without incident. Now she was being asked to
raise her right hand and swear that her answers had been
truthful, then was fingerprinted and photographed - every
time she comes to America, her swiped passport will bring
up this documentation of her rejection. As Smethurst's
inked fingers were rolled onto the government form, she
noticed its heading:
"Criminal."
Eventually she was escorted under armed guard to a pay
phone to make the call she vainly believed would clear
everything up and allow her to stay in the country. Then,
while conversations were occurring among her husband,
editor and consul officers in L.A., Smethurst's baggage was
thoroughly searched and a makeup bag temporarily
confiscated. She was then handcuffed and marched through
the airport to another terminal, where LAX's main detention
center is located.
After the phone call she pleaded for food, having now been
away from home nearly 24 hours. Smethurst offered money for
a snack to be brought to her - French fries, potato chips,
anything - but was refused.
"Would it be possible to get a cup of tea?" she asked. This
too was denied, because it could be used as a weapon -
someone, it was explained, had recently thrown hot coffee
into an agent's face. When she requested a cup of cold tea,
she was similarly refused, although no one could explain
to her how a cup of cold water could become weaponized.
Finally, around 6 p.m., a "detention meal" was pulled from
a fridge, consisting of an orange, fruit-box drink and a
roll that, Smethurst says, "I could play golf with."
For a while she sat in the main detention center, unable to
eat the food, as eight armed guards watched TV. Then one of
the staff returned with a bag of takeout and began eating a
hamburger and fries in front of her.
"At that stage," she says, "I just lost the plot completely
and threw the roll into the bin in front of me with sheer,
utter frustration."
The CBP would later call this gesture a "tantrum";
Smethurst, in turn, claims that she was thoroughly body
searched by female staff each time she was moved from one
part of LAX to another, and that she broke down in tears
several times, swearing to her captors that she was not a
criminal, had done nothing wrong and should be allowed in
the country. She also says one sympathetic staff member
told her she'd simply had bad luck in getting the agent she
did at the first customs station, since the I-Visa rule was
enforced at the discretion of agents. Smethurst could have
entered the country by simply declaring herself a tourist
on her traveler's form - a routine practice among reporters
entering the U.S.
Eventually, Smethurst's release was won by the Consul
General's Office. The consulate also gained one other
concession - the cup of tea she'd begged for. It was
prepared by a senior CBP official whom Smethurst thought
was the kindest American she'd met that day.
"It was the best cup of tea I'd ever had," she says. I
didn't waste a drop."
from The Daily Reckoning financial e-zine, Dec 23rd 2003
An Australian journalist gets a taste of Department of
Homeland Security hospitality
by Steven Mikulan
LA Weekly
Sue Smethurst enjoys traveling. It's one of the things
about my job that I absolutely love," says the 30-year-old
Australian, who works as an associate editor for the
women's magazine New Idea. She doesn't even mind flying.
"It's one of the great pleasures of the world to be able to
turn off your cell phone and be where no one can annoy
you."
But when her Qantas flight from Melbourne, Australia,
touched down at LAX around 8 a.m. on Friday, November 14,
Smethurst found herself nightmarishly annoyed - by the
Department of Homeland Security (DHS). Smethurst was
supposed to continue to New York and on Monday interview
singer Olivia Newton-John. Smethurst had honeymooned in
Manhattan last year and was looking forward to a long, free
weekend having a good walk through Central Park, getting a
decent bowl of chicken soup and going Christmas shopping -
all those gorgeous New York things."
Better still, her six-hour layover in L.A. would allow her
to have lunch with her American literary agent. "I had a
room booked at the Airport Hilton, where I was going to my
leave bags, shower and get a cup of coffee."
But first she had to clear LAX's immigration check-in,
which she reached after 20 minutes in line. An officer from
the DHS's newly minted Customs and Border Protection (CBP)
bureau studied the traveler's declaration form Smethurst
had filled out on the plane.
"Oh, you're a journalist," he noted. "What are you here
for?"
"I'm interviewing Olivia Newton-John," Smethurst replied.
"That's nice," the official said, impressed. "What's the
article about?"
"Breast cancer."
When Smethurst tells me this, she pauses and adds, "I
thought that last question was a little odd, but figured
everything's different now in America and it was fine."
What she didn't know was that her assignment and travel
plans, along with the chicken soup and stroll through
Central Park, had been terminated the moment she confirmed
she was a journalist.
Fourteen hours later, she was escorted by three armed
guards onto the 11 p.m. Qantas flight home.
"I want to say right off that I adore America and love
Americans," Smethurst says. Still, she remains perplexed
and emotionally bruised by what followed in Terminal Four.
The CBP agent who read Smethurst's traveler's questionnaire
took her to a secondary inspection area 30 feet away and
told her to wait, then left for half an hour. He returned
with additional uniformed staff who, professionally and
pleasantly enough, asked more questions.
What sort of stories did she write? What kind of magazine
was New Idea?
Where was it published? What was its circulation? Does it
print politically sensitive articles? When would her
interview appear? Who would be reading it?
"I laughed," Smethurst recalls, because we're a cross
between Good Housekeeping and People magazine. "The most
political thing we'd likely print was Laura Bush's
horoscope."
The polite interrogation continued. Who was her father? His
occupation? Her mother's maiden name and occupation? What
were their dates of birth, where did they live?
The agents gravely nodded at Smethurst's replies and left
once more, promising to return. When they came back half an
hour later, one of the officers offered Smethurst a cup of
airport coffee.
"I thought at that stage something was quite wrong,"
Smethurst says, "so I asked the man with the coffee if
there was some problem."
"I will tell you when there's a problem," he abruptly
snapped, according to Smethurst. Then he pointed to a
nearby sign:
Your Silence Is Appreciated
At about noon, CBP informed Smethurst she would be denied
entrée into the United States: While Australian tourists
visiting the United States are visa-waived for 90 days,
working journalists need a special I-Visa, which Smethurst
had not been aware of and did not possess. She had, after
all, flown into LAX on the same passport eight times
previously without incident. Now she was being asked to
raise her right hand and swear that her answers had been
truthful, then was fingerprinted and photographed - every
time she comes to America, her swiped passport will bring
up this documentation of her rejection. As Smethurst's
inked fingers were rolled onto the government form, she
noticed its heading:
"Criminal."
Eventually she was escorted under armed guard to a pay
phone to make the call she vainly believed would clear
everything up and allow her to stay in the country. Then,
while conversations were occurring among her husband,
editor and consul officers in L.A., Smethurst's baggage was
thoroughly searched and a makeup bag temporarily
confiscated. She was then handcuffed and marched through
the airport to another terminal, where LAX's main detention
center is located.
After the phone call she pleaded for food, having now been
away from home nearly 24 hours. Smethurst offered money for
a snack to be brought to her - French fries, potato chips,
anything - but was refused.
"Would it be possible to get a cup of tea?" she asked. This
too was denied, because it could be used as a weapon -
someone, it was explained, had recently thrown hot coffee
into an agent's face. When she requested a cup of cold tea,
she was similarly refused, although no one could explain
to her how a cup of cold water could become weaponized.
Finally, around 6 p.m., a "detention meal" was pulled from
a fridge, consisting of an orange, fruit-box drink and a
roll that, Smethurst says, "I could play golf with."
For a while she sat in the main detention center, unable to
eat the food, as eight armed guards watched TV. Then one of
the staff returned with a bag of takeout and began eating a
hamburger and fries in front of her.
"At that stage," she says, "I just lost the plot completely
and threw the roll into the bin in front of me with sheer,
utter frustration."
The CBP would later call this gesture a "tantrum";
Smethurst, in turn, claims that she was thoroughly body
searched by female staff each time she was moved from one
part of LAX to another, and that she broke down in tears
several times, swearing to her captors that she was not a
criminal, had done nothing wrong and should be allowed in
the country. She also says one sympathetic staff member
told her she'd simply had bad luck in getting the agent she
did at the first customs station, since the I-Visa rule was
enforced at the discretion of agents. Smethurst could have
entered the country by simply declaring herself a tourist
on her traveler's form - a routine practice among reporters
entering the U.S.
Eventually, Smethurst's release was won by the Consul
General's Office. The consulate also gained one other
concession - the cup of tea she'd begged for. It was
prepared by a senior CBP official whom Smethurst thought
was the kindest American she'd met that day.
"It was the best cup of tea I'd ever had," she says. I
didn't waste a drop."