Left stranded in Slovakia.

A country that seems to exist only to put people in prison or into psychiatric facilities. That appears to be the only thing Slovakia is good at.

Now the USA and the Anglosphere bloc, including Canada, the UK, Australia, and New Zealand, will not let me in because of a label: CIMT — Crimes Involving Moral Turpitude.

My two-year house arrest sentence will eventually come to an end. But the five major democracies and economic superpowers remain effectively closed to me forever. This can happen to anyone at any time.

So to the policymakers of the Anglosphere:

You speak of liberty. You speak of forgiveness. The USA has roughly 62% of its population, about 160 million people, identifying as Christian, forgiving their debtors every Sunday.

But in immigration law, you practice something else. You forbid entry to anyone who has ever been convicted of a Crime Involving Moral Turpitude, or CIMT.

What really are Crimes Involving Moral Turpitude?

A philosophy rooted in 20th-century logic.

Almost every serious crime qualifies as a CIMT. Unless it has been something very minor, such as traffic violations, minor public order offenses, negligence-based crimes, regulatory offenses, strict liability crimes, or simple possession of small amounts of drugs in some cases, nearly everything else may qualify.

Let me state this clearly. I was convicted of criminal harassment, meaning repeated unwanted communication with peers, teachers, and schoolmates who ignored me, and illegal firearm possession. That is part of my record. I do not deny it.

But punishment is supposed to end. If a sentence ends one day, why does it continue at the immigration border?

No judge sentenced me to permanent exile. No court declared, “You may never enter these countries again.” Yet under CIMT logic, that is effectively what happens. Not through another trial. Not through another conviction that would justify such punishment. But through classification. A checkbox. A database entry. A moral label. And suddenly, geography shrinks forever.

I studied International Business. A global field. Global finance. Global commerce. Global integration. Yet I am territorially restricted from some of the most influential economies in the world. A global education without global mobility is professional amputation. Time does not return. At times it feels like wasted effort. None of the lecturers warned me that a conviction could permanently limit access to entire regions of the world.

This is not just about tourism. If someone owns real estate or a business in a country but cannot enter it, ownership becomes symbolic.

That is not public safety. That is legal immobilization through paperwork.

The European Union removed internal borders between 27 states and proved that cooperation does not equal collapse. Risk management still exists. But permanent territorial exclusion is not the default response.

If rehabilitation exists domestically once a sentence is served, why does that philosophy stop at the border?

This is not about erasing wrongdoing. It is about recognizing that the world is far more interconnected now than it was in the 20th century, when many of these immigration laws were shaped.

Some systems say: wait five years. Wait ten years. Then we may reconsider. But time itself does not create change. It only creates delay. Life is finite. Productive years do not pause for administrative comfort.

If a sentence is complete and there is no active threat, then the agreed punishment was supposed to be sufficient to correct behavior.

Each conviction is ultimately based on judicial interpretation. With a different lawyer or a different plea arrangement, outcomes may differ.

Being labeled mentally ill and subjected to compulsory psychiatric treatment does not automatically mean a person is dangerous. It reflects professional interpretation, which can vary by system and country.

Unlike in the 20th century, the world today is interconnected. Capital moves. Data moves. Corporations move. Yet some individuals remain frozen at their worst moment. In a fluid world, rigid systems fracture. Mobility is resilience.

This is a structural disagreement. Not about crime. Not about safety. About permanence.

Should a past conviction, already punished, define a person’s cross-border identity forever? Or should a sentence mean what it says: served, finished, closed?

If punishment is finite, consequences should not be infinite. If change is possible, the law must be capable of recognizing it. Otherwise, we are not defending liberty. We are defending archives.

Left stranded in Slovakia, not by lack of ability, but by permanence.

The question is simple. Should the past permanently dictate movement? Once a sentence is completed and a person has been released, should that remain a permanent barrier to crossing borders?