Targeting foreign students is a mistake

In a cynical bid to curb immigration, the government has tightened the screws on the higher educatio

Not so long ago, the Work and Pensions Secretary, Iain Duncan Smith, echoed Gordon Brown's nadir in calling for British jobs for British workers. "In the short term, controlling immigration is critical," he said, "or we will risk losing another generation to dependency and hopelessness."

Like Brown, Duncan Smith failed to offer a realistic solution to the perceived bias of the labour market towards those from abroad. He complained that more than half of new jobs in the preceding year had been taken by foreigners (a statistic dismissed as "dodgy" by Matt Cavanagh of the Institute for Public Policy Research, who put the figure at closer to 10 or 20 per cent). In response, business leaders, rather sensibly, urged the coalition government to focus on reforming skills and education.

The most recent Tory assault on UK colleges, however, probably isn't what they had in mind. The Conservatives are committed to slashing net migration from 239,000 per year to below 100,000 (by next election season, naturally) -- but since a large proportion of immigrants to the UK come from within the European Union and are not subject to British control, ministers have little wriggle room.

Of non-EU immigrants, many are here to work; yet this group, so necessary to UK business interests, has largely been protected. That leaves foreigners arriving to join their families -- an entry route safeguarded by international and human rights laws -- and students. The Tories have predictably leapt upon this last group, even though they contribute in excess of £5bn to the UK economy each year through tuition fees and off-campus expenditure.

When the government unveiled its new student visa rules in March, Sally Hunt, general secretary of the University and College Union, raised concerns that they risked "sending out the worrying message that the UK is closed for business". If the UK as a whole has managed to remain open (well, barely), the same cannot be said for the 51 colleges that have failed UK Border Agency inspections and the more than 470 education providers that have been barred from accepting new foreign students in the past six months alone, according to new figures from the Home Office.

The Immigration Minister, Damian Green, is correct to come down hard on the "widespread abuse of the student visa system" and many of the colleges that were closed were doubtless shut for good reason. As the Financial Times reports: "When asked by inspectors, one of these providers could not even produce a list of students enrolled or a timetable of classes, while others could not produce records of student attendance."

Yet Green's jubilance that the measures are "beginning to bite" is misplaced.

The above successes aside, the Tory programme of targeting prospective students from outside the EU has been poorly conducted and ill-considered. Despite the symbolic value it will have to some, it will fail to make "a significant dent" in the immigration reduction target, according to Scott Blinder, senior researcher at the Migration Observatory at the University of Oxford.

Instead, as a result of new government rules, a higher education sector that is heavily reliant on international students (and which has already experienced a fall of 9 per cent in UK applicants, likely due to the massively increased fees) is deterring bright, young people from around the world from choosing Britain. The UK Universities group, a student placement service, reports a sharp downturn in applications from abroad; many are instead opting for countries such as Australia, New Zealand and Canada.

A Migration Observatory poll found that 57 per cent of Britons were happy with the number of foreign university students rising or staying the same. The figures in relation to English language or further education students were also positive. So does it make sense to target them? Visa abuse within the sector is very low. It's just odd to overstate the case. In a recent FT report, Cavanagh says: "The public are negative about immigration but they don't mind foreign students or skilled workers. Yet those are the two categories that the government is ending up bearing down on the hardest because they're the easiest to control."

It's time that the government prioritised the national good over easy headlines. Perhaps Nicola Dandridge of Universities UK was on to something when she suggested:

The numbers of international students coming into the country should be accounted for separately and not included in the definition of net migrants for the purposes of government policy. International students are not economic migrants. They come to the UK to study, and then they leave. The vast majority of international students return home once their studies are completed, and those that do not, need to re-apply for a separate visa.

Sounds like common sense to me. The US and Australia both attempted to curb the numbers of overseas students but reversed the policy, after it damaged the international competitiveness of their institutions. We should learn from their mistake.

Yo Zushi is a sub-editor of the New Statesman. His work as a musician is released by Eidola Records.

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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