The Changing Face of Fake ID's

Arizona Summer Wildcat Josh Schneyer

The law of our land breeds criminals. Most of us are chronic offenders by the time we reach our mid-teens. There is nothing American about waiting for the legal age to begin drinking. The keg party is our introduction to lawlessness. Here, contemptuous minors gather amid barrels of the ritual libation, perhaps one of those premium Milwaukee brews.

To buy alcohol is the loftiest ambition of this age group, and for its members the fake ID carries the buying power of a platinum card. This is why the practice of identity fraud will thrive for as long as there's a drinking age.

That message resonates throughout California this week, where 79 Department of Motor Vehicle employees were fired for producing fraudulent driver's licenses. It's a lesson in youthful persistence, and bureaucratic failure. The state paid these clerks a pittance at their Orwellian, paper-pushing jobs. But the fake ID racket got them fringe benefits fit for a mafia boss; bribes reached $1000 per license. Investigators believe at least 25,000 bogus licenses have been issued in California during the last few years.

News of the California crackdown struck me as ironic. After all, I'm a member of the last generation for whom it was still possible to create an ID that looked like the real thing. A few years back it was a matter of pride to beat the DMV, not bribe them. In recent years the guild of ID forgers has disbanded. The tricks of their trade are all but forgotten. Fraud schemes go out like hair-do's. Now minors are going straight to the DMV.

But let's entertain fake ID nostalgia for a moment. In the old days, ID forging was just part of growing up in America; wholesome mischief.

Years ago the DMV's machines were so rudimentary that it was child's play to fabricate realistic ID's. A standard Polaroid, a typewriter, colored cards, and access to a laminating machine were the only prerequisites.

As the DMV updated its contraptions, forgers followed. They copied the fonts and color schemes on the cards. Still, most enthusiasts could make an ID in one afternoon at their computers.

When the DMV designs became truly complex (the picture no longer bulged under the lamination), one enterprising soul came up with a brilliant idea. He painted a large section of wall with the ID's design, in intricate detail. Aspiring underagers could stand in front of this painting, which was many feet wide, and get their photo snapped. The Polaroid came out the exact size of a driver's license, ready to be laminated. The whole procedure, which normally added four or five years to your name, took all of 15 minutes and $50.

It was never long, however, before bouncers and 7 Eleven attendants (as keen as this lot tends to be) began to recognize a new generation of fakes. The DMV was always coming up with something better. At bars, there were corporate incentives attached to seizing ID's, too. Door thugs were paid for each seized fake. Still, these bouncers could often make more money selling confiscated ID's right back to minors. An identity is a terrible thing to waste.

But times got tougher for forgery buffs. In fact, it seemed as though the the DMV would succeed in its crusade against underage drinking. Just take a look at your license to see why. It's virtually fraud-proof. Your photo and signature are transferred by laser directly onto the card. Your fingerprint is converted into a high-tech image sequence that appears next to the photo, and the state seal is a hologram.

In the right light, the seal is superimposed onto the photo so that your face bears the inexorable "brand" of the state. Around back there's a magnetic band just like on credit cards. It's hard to say what's logged on there, but it could include anything from birthmark locations to bathing habits. If you're underage, there's firetruck-red lettering across your card. It reads, "UNDER 21," and that's downright spiteful. After all, bouncers (whose intelligence cannot be overstated) can look at your birthday and do the math themselves.

But in spite of all these new fangled license features, the state hasn't won at all. California is a case in point. It spent millions of tax dollars making ID's hard to copy. Then, its minimum wage employees commandeered the state of the art DMV equipment to hand out "real" ID's to whoever was willing to pay. They made licenses for minors who presented someone else's birth certificate, or none at all. In so doing, they made a laughing stock out of taxpayers.

It's as if frustrated money counterfeiters could walk into the Pennsylvania mint and make off with a sheet of hundreds by "knowing the right people." It's as if you could convince your mailman to bring you someone else's mail. But let's face it: when the issue is underage drinking, there's no law or moral fiber strong enough to prevent fraudulence.

When you close off one route to liquor, others open promptly. It follows that today's minors spend as much time swilling as their predecessors did. They still slake their thirsts with whatever Milwaukee can churn out, too. Only the nature of their fraudulence has evolved.

The crux of all this discussion on fake ID's is that it's time to reassess the drinking age, which is unrealistic. In spite of all the money we pour into enforcing it, minors are pouring as much of Milwaukee's best as ever.

Josh Schneyer is a non-degree seeking graduate student