Not So Open: A Traveller’s View on Global Immigration Controls

My interview with the New Zealand border guard was invasive. After eight months of travel through Europe, North Africa, and the Middle East, it wasn’t until I reached New Zealand that I was questioned about my PTSD medication. What was it for? Why was I carrying so much? Can I prove any of this? It caught me off guard coming from one of America's closest allies. I understood that this was their country and they were concerned about narcotics smuggling, but a single bottle of PTSD medication in the hands of a traveller and former military officer seemed an odd place to start.

I eventually passed the checkpoint, but it made me wonder about all of the times I had passed through customs and security in the United States. I didn't have to declare my medication when entering the United States unless specifically asked, and I had never been asked. I was sure that if I had, simply showing my veteran identification card and saying it was for PTSD would get me through without a fuss. Of course, I was an American, not a foreigner, in my home country, so the rules were looser for me. But standing in the biosecurity line in New Zealand, I was a foreigner, and the rules were stringently applied, the alliance between our countries notwithstanding.

Border controls like this one are a fact of life for long-term travellers like me. As Americans, we have an idealised view of what international travel looks like as we take our annual two-week vacation to popular tourism destinations. We are often waived through without serious inspection, our tourism dollars more valuable than customs regulations. As a traveller, though, things were different. I wasn't visiting tourism hotspots; I was visiting countries both on and off the beaten path. As I did, I got a first-hand look at just how open the world's borders truly aren't, and I became highly critical of border critics as I navigated the bureaucratic, legal, and physical barriers people across the world experience everyday.

Let me examine five examples from my travels:

Vietnam: Bureaucracy and Border Walls. The most glaring example of policy hypocrisy I experienced was in Vietnam. One of only five remaining communist countries in the world, those calling for open borders would be surprised at Vietnam’s strict immigration policy. I had to apply in advance for an electronic travel visa, which itself was not technically a visa but a travel authorisation form. I then had to print out the form and present it to border authorities. The government said it could take up to two weeks to process the authorisation, but online forums told stories of much longer waits. I received mine in just a few days, but I was no more exempt from Vietnamese immigration requirements than Mexicans, Nigerians, or Iraqis. I wasn't upset or angered by this, but I was amused that people in my country were demanding relaxed immigration enforcement while countries like Vietnam erected immovable migration barriers for us. Even more amusing was the impressive border wall along the border with China, complete with thick, steel beams, military guards on both sides, and surveillance cameras. I had to get permission just to get close to the wall on the Vietnamese side. What would happen if I didn't get permission? "They will shoot you," one guide told me. I didn't know if "they" referred to the Vietnamese or the Chinese, but either way the implication was clear — stay away from the border.

Australia: Fortress Pacific. Surely members of the Five-Eyes partnership would relax border controls for each other, right? Wrong.  Like Vietnam, I had to get permission in advance to travel there; like New Zealand, I had to pass through strict biosecurity controls, including an interview about my PTSD medication with a customs official. Given this experience, it wasn't hard to believe the stories about economic migrants braving the ocean to reach Australian shores in search of a better life only to be intercepted and returned from whence they came. But who was I to judge? Australia is a sovereign country and entitled to its border laws. That's what I would have thought, anyway, had Labor Prime Minister Anthony Albanese not continued the policy of intercepting, returning, and deporting economic migrants travelling by boat under Operation Sovereign Borders (whose logo proudly proclaims "Zero Chance"), while the Labour Party simultaneously criticised American immigration controls. It is "rules for thee, but not for me" from one of our most important security and trade partners in an increasingly-contested region. Like the United States, there was plenty of social opposition to these policies in Australia, but the electorate and politicians lacked the political will to end a policy that benefited its citizens and workforce. Even as an American, I had to leave within three months.

Bali: Tourists Welcome, Locals First. One thing I learned in my travels was that American tourism dollars opened a lot of government doors, and Bali was no exception. Bali required me to obtain a visa on arrival at a cost of about 35 USD, but the process was sleek and easy. It had to be to process the millions of foreign tourists that visited the island year after year. Within a few minutes, I applied, paid for, and received my visa, good for thirty days of tourism. No online process, no intense biosecurity interview, no hassle. The island needed tourism dollars far more than strict immigration controls. That said, Bali's controls still exist behind the scenes. Foreigners are legally prohibited from owning property on the island, and several industries, including the scuba diving industry, require companies to hire local professionals, not well-off expats seeking to transplant their lifestyles abroad. While there are plenty of foreign-owned businesses, the Balinese government's priority is supporting local nationals over foreign interests. In my eyes, allowing foreign-owned businesses into the economy was a means to the end of providing local jobs. Writers like me would have to look elsewhere for work. It seemed a logical balance of local and international interests, one which Western nations didn't want to strike.

The Schengen Paradox: Heaven for Some, Hell for Others. Europe is a rite of passage for long-term travellers, and the institution of the Schengen Area, the agreement which unified European immigration policy under a single, continent-wide banner, only made this rite of passage more affordable. If your country is on the visa-free travel list, you can enjoy twenty-six countries for up to ninety days without a problem. If your country is not on the list, though, hopefully luck is on your side. Not only do you need a valid passport and application, you need medical insurance, proof of financial solvency, proof of accommodation, evidence that you will return to your home country, and to submit fingerprints with the application. On top of that, you have to pay 90 EUR for each adult applicant. Some nationalities require a sponsorship letter from someone in Europe. Even after all of this, which can take up to forty-five days, applicants can still be summarily denied. Even Moroccans had to undergo this process, despite their country waiving visas for most Europeans.

At the same time, Europe's asylum process allows applicants to apply once they physically arrived on its shores, disenfranchising those who try to do things the legal way in favour of those who don't. It was unsurprising, then, to encounter the strains from unchecked illegal migration under the banner of asylum seeking in Spain and Italy, who are required to provide housing, health care, and education while processing applications as border countries, and who must fund returns for denied applicants under EU regulations starting in 2026. Meanwhile, Germany, the main driver of this policy, has remained insulated by comparison from such strains, as the country is separated from the Mediterranean by Italy, France, Switzerland, Austria, and the Alps. In an age of communal policy, the burdens weren’t shared equally, and the countries with the least geographic protection bore the greatest weight.

Mexico: Transit Nation with a Double Standard. Mexico is home to some of the most beautiful scuba diving in the world, and it Caribbean and Pacific coasts boast world-renown resort destinations. While generally a visa-free destination for Western countries, there are still restrictions. Travellers can only stay for up to six months; however, a border agent can mark your entry stamp to require you to leave sooner at their discretion. Under similar discretion, a border agent can deny entry if they believe you are doing "visa runs" (i.e., spending just a day or two outside of the country to reset your time) to live (and likely work) in the country illegally. Personally, I have had two friends caught under this discretion. One had to pay a steep fine upon their departure; the other was deported to Brazil upon his arrival at the airport (despite being from Argentina). Even foreign retirees seeking to live out their golden years on Mexico’s beaches were subject to strict scrutiny, specifically regarding their bank accounts and tax contributions.

At the same time, Mexico's southern border is wide open to migrant caravans making their way to the American southwest border. Passports litter the roads as migrants shed their old lives and identities on their way to the United States, and trash bins overflow with them in the northern Mexican states. Mexican nationals are almost as frustrated with this arrangement as Americans, as this unchecked, illegal migration places pressure on infrastructure, jobs availability, and community cultures when migrants opt to remain in Mexico instead of continue to the border. It is an upside-down policy where Western tourists spending hundreds, if not thousands, of tourism dollars on their week-long vacation experience more scrutiny at the airport checkpoint than Central American and African migrants who bring little to the Mexican economy or social structure. Again, I do not begrudge foreign countries from instituting visa regimes and ensuring their border security, but their backwards, unbalanced application in Mexico confuses the priorities.

Given these examples, American immigration policy doesn't seem out of place. In fact, one could argue it is generous in a global context. We allow asylum applications at ports of entry, have a system where you can lawfully stay in the country while awaiting an immigration hearing, and lack the hard border barriers that physically deter illegal crossings (like the ocean and guarded fences). Our only real asks of migrants are that you apply for a visa before arriving in the United States, apply for asylum at the first third-party country you reach, and enter the country at a legal point of entry. Those aren't unreasonable requests, as even the communist government of Vietnam requires these basic principles of sound immigration policy. While it is true that our immigration court system is woefully understaffed, underfunded, and overburdened, to say it is unfair or cruel in a global context at best represents a gross misunderstanding of global policies and at worst brings questions of corruption and ill-intent for those protesting our policies. Simultaneously, pro-border activists have to understand American hypocrisy when it comes to our power in the world. Americans have visa-free access to 112 countries and eVisa or visa-on-arrival access to 58 more while only offering the same to 45 nationalities. We leverage our economic and diplomatic power to benefit our citizens' ability to travel, something all nations do to some extent, but something we can't ignore in our own policy discourse.

Ultimately, when discussing immigration policy, we must remember than legal migration isn't a guarantee and a passport isn't a free pass. The United States is far from the only country with border controls, and by comparison, our policies are already among the most compassionate. The so-called "roundups" of the current administration are targeting those who have taken advantage of our system, overstayed their lawful presence, and, in many cases, committed crimes. We are no different than Australia, Europe, Vietnam, or any other country in that endeavour, including the socialist and communist regimes so many of our citizens want us to imitate. The longer I travelled, the more I encountered the simple reality: every country defends its borders. Some do so with bureacracy, others with military force. The American system may not be perfect, but is far from an outlier. It’s more open than most.