ACE Campbell

John Carpener’s letter (Beacon, May 13) records his sad remembrance of his brother’s, et al, bad manners towards migrants. He opens with the perplexing inclusion that “135,000 sounds like a lot of people as cited by ACE Campbell May 8”?

He then goes on about the angst people have for “those who don’t look like us” and “want to pull the ladder up behind them because they see themselves as better than their wannabe New Zealanders.”

To provide some context, my previous contribution to this media was drawing attention to the Coalition Government’s new immigration settings that had been changed up.

The coalition are cutting Labour’s 135,000 immigrant intake back to 24,000. They had instigated a policy of examining skill levels, English language competence and health checks, putting in place management structures that could verify immigrant status to meet our requirements to drive a highly productive economy.

This is needed to control New Zealand’s borders and encourage those who can add to our society; it is a matter of governance, not a matter of any “race” preference.

The Labour Government’s policy had none of these benchmarks or checks and New Zealanders were experiencing the pinch through health, education and some social levels, a slight feeling of chaos.

I hark back to Angela Merkle’s so-called “moral compass” and the effect this is still having on Europe.

Whilst all the good intentions surfaced, it wasn’t practical, it didn’t work. Yes, they were refugees, but the management structures to support them had gone AWOL, Europe was in chaos.

Also, Julian Gillard’s (Australian Labour prime minister) unstructured handling of “The Boat People” had to be righted by Tony Abbott.

As a motor home wanderer, I have met many people from the vast expanses of this Earth and I, like most New Zealanders, recognise people by the shake of their hand, the width of their smile and the congenial nature of their being.

Mr Capener, your misconceptions about immigration certainly don’t cross reference with the content of my letter or the way New Zealand cuts its cloth.