We still have a race problem

Finding a shared British identity is vital to overcoming racial tensions.

My parents came over from India in the late 1970s in response to the calls from the NHS for skilled clinicians and in the hope of better opportunities for their family. Adapting to life in the UK was far from easy – South Shields is far less sari-friendly than Calcutta – but they persevered, worked incredibly hard and are now very much part of the communities they migrated into, my father a GP and my mother a social worker.

I owe my schooling, subsequent entry into a decent university and anything I’ve done since entirely to their struggles and sacrifices. They were relentless in giving me a strong sense of Indian heritage; language, food, Bollywood et al, whilst encouraging a firmly colour blind and unequivocal acceptance of my Britishness and all that it entailed. This was far from easy for them, as they themselves were learning an entirely new culture as they went along – but they adapted, tolerated and challenged where appropriate and as a result gifted me both passionate patriotism and a solid connection with my roots. They are delighted that I’m marrying a girl from the Welsh Valleys, a joy only heightened by her ability to handle spicy food.

The cosmopolitan experience suggests that most children of immigrants (how I wish there was another word to describe my parents, so sullied has it become!) have grown up in a similarly open-minded households, proud to be British and aware of their heritage. London in particular is populated by a jumble of colours and dialects, seemingly happily co-existing with one another, intermarrying, playing social snakes and ladders and getting on without reference to skin tone.

Unfortunately, across the country (and even in the capital) the reality is somewhat different, at least in two ways. Prejudice against people of different colours hasn’t gone away. The Ministry of Justice just published a report describing attitudes to race in the North of England as stuck in a “time warp”; with physical and verbal attacks commonplace. In London there have been 1,400 complaints of racism made against the Metropolitan Police in the last three years. On average, approximately five times more black people than white people are imprisoned in England and Wales. Last season two Premiership footballers were accused of racially abusing fellow professionals, with one found guilty and the other awaiting trial. Racist language continues to be picked up in our streets, police stations, football pitches and across the internet, and is just as vile as ever.

Further, large groups of us live in racially segregated enclaves. London has mini-towns populated by people of the same origin, Bangladeshi to Somali, Caribbean to Chinese. Of course there is mixing in between, but in many of our towns and cities there is still remarkably clear separation in schools, leisure and location between those with brown skin and those with white, particularly in some poor communities where the BNP or EDL hold currency. The state even inadvertently encourages segregation through faith schools, which can often proxy for ethnicity. Race riots in Oldham shocked the nation; yet we hardly debate that some people born and brought up and Britain still choose to live, socialise and marry within (self?) imposed ethnic ghettoisation. In a modern society this is undesirable for all sorts of reasons, a scandal that we have nervously swept under the carpet.

I don’t want to write about race. I’d much rather it didn’t matter, and that I could focus on trying clever prescriptions for Europe or acerbic indictments of education or healthcare reform. But those ranks are swelled; discussing race and colour, on the other hand, is unfashionable, a relic of the 1980’s and early 1990’s. Things may have improved since then, but the problem hasn’t gone away. We have found euphemistic ways to skirt around it: gangs, radical Islam, forced marriages, asylum seekers – even the term immigrant. Race, culture and religion are understandably complex, confused, and often conflated, but some sections of the press deliberately stoke the fires of discontent without ever really letting them ignite; others are simply lazy, using terms like ‘Asians’ (placing the subjects in one of approximately 50 countries of origin – not politically incorrect, just imprecise) and talking only to self-appointed, self-important ‘community leaders’ for the low-effort minority representation voice. Meanwhile parts of real Britain smoulder with a tension that mounts by the day as the economic situation worsens, a trend seen across Europe and beyond.

Many will think this is hyperbole. It isn’t, and it is important. There are lots of cleavages in society, but race is instantly identifiable, historically more prone to violence; and a mistrust of the ‘other’ has serious consequences for all that depends on a sense of national unity – democracy, welfare, taxation, shared public goods. On a personal level I had my fair share of name-calling, beatings and graffiti growing up, and I don’t want my children to have to go through the same. So I ask that we do two things, as befits 21st century Britain:

First, accepting we have a problem, we need to create platforms that allow the people of this country to complain, argue and discuss race – part of, but nevertheless distinct, from immigration -  without constraint or fear. Legitimate worries around language or cultural assimilation must be both aired and distinguished from attitudes towards colour, exposing stupidity and prejudice, guided by a confident and unapologetic media and leadership that in turn take on the responsibility for emphasising commonality. Rather than trying to deal with racist language only on occurrence, schools must proactively educate their young people early as to where racist language comes from, how it might feel to be on the receiving end and why casual use is simply unacceptable. When politicians talk about immigration, they must make extra efforts to not conflate it with colour. ‘Respect’ within football is all well and good, but confining an anti-racism campaign to the stands ignores the fact that racism there is symptomatic of a broader malaise in society. We need to use all our channels - schools, social media, television, comedy, news, music, sport – to elevate the problem from its current mistaken categorisation as both niche and largely addressed.

Second, we have to ask the unasked (at least beyond the think tanks) – why do some who are born and bred here fail to fully integrate into the society around them, choosing instead residing within sub-cultures that are often even more specific than skin colour or country of origin? Do they identify themselves as British? Multiculturalism should mean a canvas vibrant with haphazard shape and colour, not distinct blocks separated from one another. If we accept this as an unwanted state of affairs, then why does it exist? Whose fault is it? And how can it be addressed? Citizenship classes can’t be the answer when whole towns are divided by colour. For example we must reconsider the impact of faith schools; housing policy that has for decades ended up (on purpose or by accident) grouping people of similar ethnicities together; and the attitudes of particularly the children and grandchildren of immigrants towards Britain.

The two go hand in hand. As long as people of different colour sometimes appear to belong to different countries, it will be hard to forget about their distinguishing physical features, exacerbating both racism and segregation and making it harder for people like my parents to embrace, and be embraced, by Britain. There is much to unite around; the great liberal tradition, centuries of tolerance and integration, an open political system, free healthcare for all, religious and press freedom, a judicial system revered around the world, and much more. Unfortunately inculcating a sense of fellow-feeling built on these virtues requires more than flags, flotilla and fireworks. But we have no choice - little else but a shared British identity can override the basest reactions to superficial differences.

 

Newly-arrived Bengali women on Brick Lane in 1978. Photograph: Getty Images
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A year in my life as a Brexit bargaining chip

After Brexit, like many other EU citizens in Britain, I spent a year not knowing what my future held. Here's what that was like.

I moved back to the UK in January 2016. I like to say “move back”, because that’s how it feels – I loved living in London so much during my Erasmus year that I always intended to come work here after graduation. 

I am French, and a journalist, and live in north London. I refer to the UK as “home”. By all appearances, in January 2016 I am part of what budding Brexiteers call the “liberal elite”, even though I rent a single room and my most expensive possession after my laptop is a teapot.

But by June, I have been given a new label. I am now one of the 3 million “EU citizens in the UK”. As Britain heads toward turbulent negotiations to leave the European Union, following a referendum in which I did not have a vote, I have become a “bargaining chip”. 

This is my account of that year.

April 2016

Moving back includes chores such as getting a UK phone number, a National Insurance number and opening a bank account – three tasks that go even smoother that I thought they would. For the bank account, I have been advised to go to Lloyds Bank, which makes it “easy for Europeans”. (A thread on Twitter recently proved it also is more inclined to help refugees than other banks.)

I also eagerly register to vote – another right of mine in the UK under EU rules, for local and European elections. And I am excited: I will have a vote in the London mayoral election.

I closely follow the referendum campaign. “Vote Remain” signs and stickers are omnipresent in my  neighbourhood.  I feel reassured. So do the other EU nationals quietly passing me in the street. “I don't recall seeing any Leave Campaign. It made me think it would be an easy win,” echoes Tiago Gomes, 27, a Portuguese musician.

In the pub, I get into a testy exchange with an acquaintance who holds French and British passports and is proudly campaigning for Leave. I struggle to understand why. Maybe, just like Ukip leader Nigel Farage, he knows he has a way out, if it all goes to shit.

Worried that people could wrongly see me as a Brexiteer because of my Union Jack Converses, I put a “I’m IN” sticker on each roundel.

May 2016

I vote in the London mayoral election. I have voted many times in France, but this is different – I am almost a Brit! I even take a happy selfie with my polling card, like a proud 18 year-old.

This turns out to be the only UK election I will ever have a vote in, as a friend will note a few months later.

June 2016

Jo Cox MP is murdered on the streets of her constituency. I report on the murder all afternoon and when I get the tube home, I feel shaken. A Leave supporter enters the tube carriage with an England flag. I want to ask him: "Do you even know what happened?" But I say nothing.

The violent turn taken by the campaign is felt in London, too. Samir Dwesar, a 27-year-old parliamentary assistant, remembers the abuse he suffered while campaigning for Remain: “I was called a p**i, and told to go back to ‘your f’ing country'.” Samir is British and has lived all his life in Croydon, South London.

Yet I am hopeful on 23 June 2016. I blow up “I’m IN” balloons, taste EU referendum cupcakes from my local bakery. I’m living history.

And it is history. I doubt anyone in Britain, and especially the country’s EU citizens, will forget the nightmarish morning of 24 June 2016. My heart sinks as I read the BBC news alert informing me I am no longer home – not really. On my wall, a poster of the Private Eye cover “What Britain will look like after Brexit”, which I found hilarious in April, looks like a doomed omen.

The mood is low among all Europeans. For Nassia Matsa, 27, a Greek woman from Athens who has lived in London for 9 years, it is even worse: 24 June marks her birthday. “Nigel and Boris ruined my birthday,” she says.

At least in London we are not alone. I discover many Brits identify as European. When I finally leave my house, my neighbourhood is still plastered IN signs and EU flags. “I found myself offering support to my British friends,” says Matsa. “Were talking about Brexit with an Italian, Swiss, Croatian, French and me, and all of us Europeans were comforting a Londoner who was ready to cry.”

July-August 2016

I go to France for a summer holiday. Everyone keeps asking what my situation will be in the UK after Brexit. My answer is always the same, and still hasn’t changed: I have no idea. My dad spends months repeating that Brexit will not happen: “They’ll realise it’s a mistake.” (They don’t.)

Bad adverts with Brexit puns bloom on the Tube. "We're Out," proclaims one for a city lifestyle app. I don’t laugh. But at least I don't have any Facebook friend boasting about Brexit. Mikael David Levin, a 24-year-old Italian who has lived in London for 16 years, does. "Their statuses frustrate and irritate me," he says. "They do not know how 'lucky' they are to be born in the UK."

After David Cameron’s resignation, the Tory leadership election and Theresa May’s premiership, the discussion focuses on when to pull the trigger, and what to do with people like us in the meantime. We are now, officially, bargaining chips.

September 2016

I start flying with my passport when I visit my family in France, even though I know my French ID is still valid until Britain officially leaves. At Stansted airport, the limited life expectancy of the “EU only” line makes me gloomy. Alex Roszkowski, a 27-year-old Polish-American who has lived in London for a year and a half, tells me he may now carry both his passports on every trip, as well as “copies of [his] lease, numerous old envelopes with [his] name and address, [his] business card".

Those EU citizens arriving in the UK have surreal experiences too. Joseph Sotinel, 28, who moved to London from Paris in September, encounters a bank official, who tells him: “Thanks for coming to the UK, you are still welcome no matter what.”

“It was as if I had done something heroic,” he says. “It was absurd.”

October 2016

Registering all EU citizens in the UK could take 140 years, according to a cheery statistic.

We are seeking an early deal to secure the rights of EU citizens, says the British government. Companies employing EU workers must provide a list of their employees, says the British government. Companies employing EU workers won’t have to provide a list of their employees, says the British government. EU citizens will need a “form of ID” in post-Brexit UK, says the British government.  EU citizens must be prepared to leave, says the British government.

Literally no one knows what will happen to EU citizens.

November- December 2016

EU nationals who have decided to apply to permanent residency or British citizenship start receiving letters urging them to leave the country. I fear mine could follow and think about it every time I get post. I read an article advising EU citizens to collect proof of living in the UK. As I am a lodger currently working freelance, I start keeping every single one of my shopping receipts in a box, and consider asking British friends for reference letters.

Matt Bock [unrelated to this journalist], a German freelance renewable energy project manager, worries about how to provide documentation showing he was living in the UK before Brexit too: “I don’t have an employer, I am outside the UK for a large amount of time for work, I am a freelancer largely paid by my own German company, I don’t have private health insurance, I am not married and I haven’t even been here for the prerequisite 5 years.”" He has chosen not to apply to right to remain because his chances of success are "remote", and says he is "ready to leave if need be."

As I, like Matt and many EU citizens, start thinking about moving back home, others rush to move to the UK. Alexandra Ibrová, 26, a Czech PhD student, moves to London on 28 December, worried she could not get a National Insurance number after 15 March. “I was trying to get the appointment before that date because it is actually the only official document that proves that you have been living here before the cut off date,” she says.

January- February 2017

Gina Miller’s legal challenge forces the government’s Brexit bill to go to a vote in Parliament. I am hopeful, for about five minutes, that the Labour MP Harriet Harman’s amendment to secure my rights has got a chance. It doesn’t. I complain about Labour leader Jeremy Corbyn’s three-line whip to my local Labour councillors during their Sunday canvassing. “As a traditionally left-wing voter, I'm more angry with Corbyn's Labour than with the Tories,” echoes Marta Maria Casetti, 39, from Italy, in London since 2006.

March 2017

The day before the triggering or Article 50, the Haringey LibDems send me a letter in “support” of EU nationals. I am now a bargaining chip and a stat on a micro-targeting list.

On 29 March, Theresa May officially begins the Brexit negotiations, even though 2017 is the worst possible time to leave the EU. It has almost been a year that 3 million people living in the UK have been left in limbo.

I don’t own a house or have children at school in the UK. Many EU citizens do – they have built their family life in this country, and now fear they may lose it all overnight.

Adriana Bruni, 44, an Italian who married an Englishman and has lived in Chelmsford for six years, says her family would not exist without the European Union: “From today [29 March], a family like mine will never be formed in the same way again.” Bianca Ford Epskamp, a Dutch national and school governor who has lived Dorset since 2001, adds: “Both my children are born here, go to school here, have made friends. I've always been employed, contributed, paid taxes, do voluntary things. Morally, it’s draining.”

Elena Paolini, 51, an Italian translator married to Brit who has lived in London for 27 years, says she doesn’t believe EU nationals will be deported, but she is concerned about her access to the NHS, pensions or bank accounts. She asks out loud the question that has been floating in all our minds for months: “Will I be considered a second rate citizen?”

As for me, I used to say I wanted to be British. I don't say that any more.

Update on 23 June 2017

Last night, Theresa May told EU leaders in Brussels the UK government would offer the same rights as Britons to EU citizens who arrived "lawfully" before Brexit. I can't help but think that it took a year to guarantee rights me, and the other 3 million, already had and took for granted up until 23 June last year.

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