My family, like so many of ours, arrived in the UK in the 1890s from Eastern Europe. My worldview is shaped by the experiences of my forebears. The views I hold on immigration, integration and anti-racism have been forged not just by the strong value set with which I was raised, but also by the family tales and mythology about their experiences, when they arrived in the UK as refugees and immigrants. Some of the stories were funny, some were dark, some heartbreaking, but all of them had one theme — a new country, a new language and a new beginning.
My family story is far from unique. My family strived to succeed in their adopted country. They worked in multiple jobs. They joined the armed forces, they served and were wounded in both World Wars. They built businesses and employed others, volunteered, joined political parties, won — and lost — elections, and now one of us is joining the House of Lords as a life peer. This is an immigrant story. It’s a British story and reflects the values that so many of us hold dear. One of aspiration, graft, integration and giving back.
Which is why I am so disgusted by the language used to discuss the plight of migrants seeking a better life, the dehumanising rhetoric designed to sow the seeds of division and hate in our country — the impact of which we saw when a Dover immigration centre was firebombed last month.
Speaking in Parliament this month, the Home Secretary said: “The British people deserve to know which party is serious about stopping the invasion on our southern coast, and which party is not. Some 40,000 people have arrived on the south coast this year alone. For many of them, that was facilitated by criminal gangs; some of them are actual members of criminal gangs, so let us stop pretending that they are all refugees in distress.”