In defence of Maurice Glasman

He has spoken up for the low-paid workers whose standard of life has been forced down by excessive i

In the last two issues of the New Statesman, Maurice Glasman is to be found apologising for his remarks about immigration, but many rank and file Labour voters will be wondering why. He said nothing that was untrue or lacking in balance. As a long-standing campaigner for a living wage he will have been acutely aware that opening the borders to a sudden increase in newcomers has driven wages down, especially for the least well paid.

The same point has been repeatedly made by Polly Toynbee in the Guardian, and so far she has not been forced to recant in public. Here she is in 2005:

"The implication is that these Londoners are so thick or lazy that we need cheap foreigners for catering, caring and cleaning who can take low pay while sleeping on friends' floors in this expensive city. But what part of the good society does this help to create? It makes restaurants cheap for the well-off and lowers taxes, while public services are manned by those on sub-survivable pay."

And again in 2006: "Poor families in this most expensive city can't pay for childcare, and compete for jobs with single migrants willing to take less than a living wage. But the rich prosper: restaurants, cleaners and all other services are cheaper because wages are low."

And once more in 2010, when she criticised Gordon Brown for "boasting frequently" about low wage inflation growth, by which he meant: "Foreigners willing to work harder for less do hold down pay, especially in the care and hospitality sectors still not covered by the Gangmasters Act." Immigration is "wonderful for employers and the affluent wanting cheap nannies, cleaners and plumbers - bad for the unemployed, many of whom would have been skilled-up for the jobs otherwise.' Controlling the borders, she thought, was 'a first duty of government. Sudden and unexpected immigration has abruptly changed the nature of some communities."

Maurice Glasman was speaking with the authentic voice of Labour voters. About three quarters of Labour voters want tighter immigration controls. A YouGov poll in May this year found that 76 per cent of Labour voters supported government measures 'to limit the number of economic migrants from outside the EU who are entitled to work in Britain'. Only 18 per cent were opposed. The trouble is that the 18 per cent includes the people who write articles for the New Statesman and the 76 per cent have to rely on the bravery of people like Maurice Glasman.

Back in August 2006 Home Secretary, John Reid, in a speech at Demos tried to take the emotion out of the debate: '"n my view mass migration and the management of immigration is now the greatest challenge facing all European governments. We have to get away from the notion that anyone who wants to talk about immigration is somehow a racist." But the issue still makes some of the more sensitive party intellectuals so uncomfortable that they would rather not think about it. And yet most developed countries have an immigration policy, not least because the sheer weight of numbers can cause problems. The more crowded the country, the more necessary is an immigration policy. The UK is already one of the most densely populated parts of the world, with double the population density of France and eight times that of America. England, on its own, is more densely populated than India. The consequences for house prices, traffic jams, school places, wages, and hospital waiting lists are there for all to see.

A UK study for the Low Pay Commission looked at the impact of immigration between 1997 and 2005 and concluded that the arrival of economic migrants benefited workers in the middle and upper part of the wage distribution, but placed downward pressure on the wages of workers on lower levels of pay. Over the period, wages at all points of the wage distribution increased but the UCL study concluded that wages in the lowest quartile would have increased faster without the effect of immigration. They estimated that for each one per cent increase in the ratio of immigrants to natives in the working age population there was a 0.5 per cent decrease in the wages of the lowest tenth of workers.

It is often said that immigrants will do the jobs British people don't want, but this question is entirely a matter of pay and conditions. People will do dirty or hard jobs if they are paid enough. Employers want to pay as little as possible; whereas workers understandably want a living wage. The campaign for a London Living Wage is seeking only £7.85 -- not much to ask for. The inescapable fact is that immigration produces winners and losers - and the poorest members of society have been the losers.

The impact on housing has also been severe, especially in London. First time buyers have been priced out of the market. Immigration has not been the only factor, but it has had a major and decisive influence on prices. We can compare the ratio of average prices to average incomes in the UK over time. In 1980 the ratio was 2.3, but by 2009 during the height of mass immigration, the ratio had nearly doubled to 4.5. Take Tower Hamlets. It is possible to compare the average price of houses in the lowest quartile of the distribution with the average wage for the lowest quartile of earners. In 1997 the ratio was 3.7. In 2009 it was 7.6, double the 1997 figure.

Such realities no doubt explain why opinion surveys consistently show a majority against mass immigration. A YouGov survey in 2008 asked whether immigration should be 'stopped', 'reduced but not stopped', or 'increased': 23 per cent said it should be stopped; 61 per cent thought it should be reduced but not stopped and only 2 per cent that it should be increased. Even among 'recent immigrants' there was a slight majority in favour of reduction: 3 per cent thought it should be stopped; 48 per cent reduced but not stopped, a total of 51 per cent. Only 10 per cent wanted an increase. That result is not as paradoxical as it may seem at first sight. Many people on low incomes are recent immigrants.

Instead of being pressurised into public recantations, Maurice Glasman should be given a special Labour party medal for the moral courage he has displayed in speaking up for the powerless low-paid workers whose standard of life has been forced down by excessive immigration.

David Green is Director of Civitas

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I can’t follow Marie Kondo's advice – even an empty Wotsits packet “sparks joy” in me

I thought I’d give her loopy, OCD theories a go, but when I held up an empty Wotsits bag I was suffused with so many happy memories of the time we’d spent together that I couldn’t bear to throw it away.

I have been brooding lately on the Japanese tidying freak Marie Kondo. (I forgot her name so I typed “Japanese tidying freak” into Google, and it was a great help.) The “Japanese” bit is excusable in this context, and explains a bit, as I gather Japan is more on the case with the whole “being tidy” thing than Britain, but still.

Apart from telling us that we need to take an enormous amount of care, to the point where we perform origami when we fold our underpants, which is pretty much where she lost me, she advises us to throw away anything that does not, when you hold it, “spark joy”. Perhaps I have too much joy in my life. I thought I’d give her loopy, OCD theories a go, but when I held up an empty Wotsits bag I was suffused with so many happy memories of the time we’d spent together that I couldn’t bear to throw it away.

After a while I gave up on this because I was getting a bit too happy with all the memories, so then I thought to myself, about her: “This is someone who isn’t getting laid enough,” and then I decided that was a crude and ungallant thought, and besides, who am I to wag the finger? At least if she invites someone to her bedroom no one is going to run screaming from it, as they would if I invited anyone to my boudoir. (Etym: from the French “bouder”, to sulk. How very apt in my case.) Marie Kondo – should bizarre circumstance ever conspire to bring her to the threshold – would run screaming from the Hovel before she’d even alighted the stairs from the front door.

I contemplate my bedroom. As I write, the cleaning lady is in it. To say that I have to spend half an hour cleaning out empty Wotsits packets, and indeed wotnot, before I let her in there should give you some idea of how shameful it has got. And even then I have to pay her to do so.

A girlfriend who used to be referred to often in these pages, though I think the term should be a rather less flippant one than “girlfriend”, managed to get round my natural messiness problem by inventing a game called “keep or chuck”.

She even made up a theme song for it, to the tune from the old Spiderman TV show. She would show me some object, which was not really rubbish, but usually a book (it may not surprise you to learn that it is the piles of books that cause most of the clutter here), and say, “Keep or chuck?” in the manner of a high-speed game show host. At one point I vacillated and so she then pointed at herself and said, “Keep or chuck?” I got the message.

These days the chances of a woman getting into the bedroom are remote. For one thing, you can’t just walk down the street and whistle for one much as one would hail a cab, although my daughter is often baffled by my ability to attract females, and suspects I have some kind of “mind ray”. Well, if I ever did it’s on the blink now, and not only that – right now, I’m not even particularly bothered that it’s on the blink. Because, for another thing, I would frankly not care to inflict myself upon anyone else at the moment.

It was all a bit of a giggle eight years ago, when I was wheeled out of the family home and left to my own devices. Of course, when I say “a bit of a giggle”, I mean “terrifying and miserable”, but I had rather fewer miles on the clock than I do now, and a man can, I think, get away with a little bit more scampish behaviour, and entertain a few more illusions about the future and his own plausibility as a character, when he is squarely in his mid-forties than when he is approaching, at speed, his middle fifties.

Death has rather a lot to do with it, I suppose. I had not actually seen, or touched, a dead body until I saw, and touched, my own father’s a few weeks ago. That’s what turns an abstract into a concrete reality. You finally put that to one side and gird up your loins – and then bloody David Bowie snuffs it, and you find yourself watching the videos for “Blackstar” and “Lazarus” over and over again, and reach the inescapable conclusion that death is not only incredibly unpleasant, it is also remorseless and very much nearer than you think.

And would you, dear reader, want to be involved with anyone who kept thinking along those lines? I mean, even if he learned how to fold his undercrackers into an upright cylinder, like a napkin at a fancy restaurant, before putting them in his drawer? When he doesn’t even have a drawer?

Nicholas Lezard is a literary critic for the Guardian and also writes for the Independent. He writes the Down and Out in London column for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 05 February 2015 issue of the New Statesman, Putin's war