Tales of Insanity from NZs Anti-Money Laundering Legislation. II.

Imagine if someone, lets call them a moron, created and then forcibly imposed on business and individuals in their private lives a system as wasteful, costly, and Stalin-esque as this: they determined that all money coming into the banking system had to be audited and its owners interrogated as to the origin of that money – their money – and back as far as five years ago and more – note they have to be able to tell the bank exactly where that particular money was and in what form. Madness you’d say: money is almost like a liquid, you can’t trace a single $1 like that (at least without reciting to the bank pretty much a huge part of your personal and business affairs; that is, your life, which, frankly, is none of their damned business).

Then imagine on top of that, after your money is in the banking system, say as a deposit, and because central bank stimulunacy has destroyed yield for prudent investors for all time, thus you are chasing any meagre slice of yield you can get, so you decide to move the deposit to another bank in the banking system. Then say that same moron, let’s call her Judith Collins, stipulated, or at least so badly worded her idiot law that banks interpreted her words to mean, that when you transfer that same money/deposit within the same banking system that had already audited it, nevertheless the new bank receiving the deposit had to do the same audit all over again. Imagine the chagrin in our case because that money five years ago was probably – hard to tell, money is liquid, not discrete – in three houses, one munted in the Christchurch earthquakes, so we had – yes, this really happened – to waste our time and suffer the privacy intrusion of telling the second bank our life history back five and now more years ago all over again. And then let’s hilariously say that same law was interpreted to stipulate that when, chasing meagre yield again to try and keep you just behind inflation, you transfer the same deposit back to the original bank, shazam! You have to tell the original bank your life history all over again. Again and again and again and again. Just to transfer your own damned money, which has now been audited, tagged, and filed into folders for Internal Affairs to audit, three different times (the same money, three different times – if you believe, that is, in the fantasy that you can discretely track the history of a single $1).

Why, you ask, wouldn’t the law stipulate the money only be audited once coming in the banking system, it can then rationally get a free pass as it rattles around within the banking system chasing a paltry after-tax lower than inflation return, and doesn’t need be audited again until it leaves the banking system and then comes back in again? Wouldn’t that be logical? Yes it would, but we have law made, as previously stated, by morons, and administered by cowards who are trying to cover their backs so as not to suffer the huge penalties given out under this Orwellian piece of shit.

I once would have thought any government bringing in such draconian nonsense would face a revolt in the streets from a free citizenry. But it didn’t. Because we’re all so ground down to life in our 21st century command surveillance states, Judith Bloody Collins and her rotten National government imposed this on us without so much as a whimper, and Andrew Little and his rotten bloody Labour coalition continues to drill that hole our private lives are being shredded into, as we are all marched down the road to our serfdom.

Fuck’em. Or that would be the dream. Me? I have to go give my life history to BNZ because I’ve another term deposit matured and BNZ will give me a huge extra 0.1% per annum on it: for the apparently small price in an age where we have had privacy stripped from us, that I only need to give one of the officers there my life history so my life can be an open book to a bureaucrat in Internal Affairs. Again.

If you are finally incensed, read my first post on my wife being interrogated by one of our banks over our coming holiday; when is it, where is it, etc, etc, all of it personal and none of their damned business just for the privilege of having OUR bank pay OUR money over to APT so we can go on one of their lovely river cruises, because the amount is over the bank’s AML daily threshold.

[The featured picture is Visions of the Future, by Orwellian. Except the future is here, ain’t it.]


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