Where now for the immigration debate?

The coalition's political approach is at risk of unravelling, but genuine policy challenges remain.

The economic impacts of migration, and of immigration policy, are back in the spotlight. Today, Gus O’Donnell accused the government of "shooting itself in the foot" on growth by restricting skilled immigration. Yesterday’s two big economic reports, from Michael Heseltine and the Resolution Foundation’s Commission on Living Standards also considered the issue from different perspectives.

O’Donnell and Heseltine both highlight the potentially negative impacts on growth of immigration policy that restricts (either in principle or in practice) the ability of businesses to access a global pool of talent. Meanwhile, the Commission on Living Standards, in an exhaustive study of the causes of the "wage squeeze" that has affected low and middle earners in the UK, concludes that immigration has not been a significant factor.

So if immigration is important for growth, and doesn’t have significant effects on low and middle earners (the evidence for both these claims is strong), what’s the problem? Why does the government persist with an immigration policy that appears to make no economic sense, and why does the opposition not offer a more straightforward criticism of it? There is sometimes a feeling on the "progressive" side of the argument that this is simply a problem of politics and public opinion – if only the economic evidence could be better communicated and understood, then the path would be clear for a more "rational" (and, by implication, more liberal) immigration policy. This is wrong, for at least two reasons.

The first is that there are genuine policy challenges with respect to immigration policy that need to be addressed – this is not simply a case of politics and public opinion muddying the crystalline waters of economic evidence.

The impacts of migration on the labour market and the economy are complex. Although the finding that migration has had little impact on wages or unemployment is robust, there are some important caveats which need to be considered. Too little is known about the distributional impacts of migration. The Commission on Living Standards is right that even at the bottom end of the labour market, the impacts of migration on wages and employment seem to be very small, but this does not rule out more significant impacts on specific groups of workers (for example in some sectors in particular local areas). Nor does it take into account the fact that migration (including skilled migration) has been part of an economic model that has seen wages at the top end of the labour market become disconnected from those at the bottom. Pleas from the City to be able to bring in more highly-skilled (and highly-paid) migrants may make sense from the point of view of economic growth, but we should take seriously the argument that some kinds of growth are better than others, and that migration policy needs to be part of that discussion.

Migration also poses a range of complex policy challenges beyond labour markets and the economy, particularly at the local level – the rapid population change that can result does affect housing, public services, and community cohesion, whatever the economic benefits.

The second reason, which Heseltine recognised in his report yesterday, is that migration policy must have "public assent". This is not just an argument for better communications. Progressives and economic liberals may find some aspects of public opinion on this issue uncomfortable, and it is always open to them to try to shift the terms of debate – but the right response can never be simply to ignore the views of the electorate. Arguments over migration cannot be left to experts or economists but must be shaped through democratic debate and choice.

So where does this leave migration policy and politics? There are three key challenges that policymakers and politicians must face up to. The first is that migration must be situated in a wider policy debate about the economy (and housing, welfare, and communities). Ed Miliband has understood this, and Labour is showing promising signs of tackling migration policy in this way. The second is that many of the real policy challenges are local ones, and need to be addressed at the local level – something that will require a big change of approach in a policy area that has traditionally been highly centralised. The government’s net migration target is about as far away from the nuanced local policy mix that is needed as it is possible to get. In light of this, the third challenge presents a paradox – although there are real policy challenges at the local level, the public don’t (on the whole) feel that immigration is a problem in their own local communities, although a large majority do feel that it is a problem for the country as a whole.

So politicians are faced with a national political problem which is cast in terms of very simple choices, and a need for nuanced and local policy solutions. The government has opted to play the political game rather than the policy one – a strategy that is at risk of unravelling under the weight of its own contradictions, and the kinds of critiques that have emerged this week. Labour are engaging seriously with the policy questions, but are still in search of a narrative on immigration – "one nation" Labour is as good a starting point as any, but much more work is needed given the party’s difficult recent history on this issue.

David Cameron watches passengers go through immigration control during a visit to Heathrow terminal 5. Photograph: Getty Images.

Sarah Mulley is associate director at IPPR.

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This Ada Lovelace Day, let’s celebrate women in tech while confronting its sexist culture

In an industry where men hold most of the jobs and write most of the code, celebrating women's contributions on one day a year isn't enough. 

Ada Lovelace wrote the world’s first computer program. In the 1840s Charles Babbage, now known as the “father of the computer”, designed (though never built) the “Analytical Engine”, a machine which could accurately and reproducibly calculate the answers to maths problems. While translating an article by an Italian mathematician about the machine, Lovelace included a written algorithm for which would allow the engine to calculate a sequence of Bernoulli numbers.

Around 170 years later, Whitney Wolfe, one of the founders of dating app Tinder, was allegedly forced to resign from the company. According to a lawsuit she later filed against the app and its parent company, she had her co-founder title removed because, the male founders argued, it would look “slutty”, and because “Facebook and Snapchat don’t have girl founders. It just makes it look like Tinder was some accident". (They settled out of court.)

Today, 13 October, is Ada Lovelace day – an international celebration of inspirational women in science, technology, engineering and mathematics (STEM). It’s lucky we have this day of remembrance, because, as Wolfe’s story demonstrates, we also spend a lot of time forgetting and sidelining women in tech. In the wash of pale male founders of the tech giants that rule the industry,we don't often think about the women that shaped its foundations: Judith Estrin, one of the designers of TCP/IP, for example, or Radia Perlman, inventor of the spanning-tree protocol. Both inventions sound complicated, and they are – they’re some of the vital building blocks that allow the internet to function. 

And yet David Streitfield, a Pulitzer-prize winning journalist, someow felt it accurate to write in 2012: “Men invented the internet. And not just any men. Men with pocket protectors. Men who idolised Mr Spock and cried when Steve Jobs died.”

Perhaps we forget about tech's founding women because the needle has swung so far into the other direction. A huge proportion – perhaps even 90 per cent - of the world’s code is written by men. At Google, women fill 17 per cent of technical roles. At Facebook, 15 per cent. Over 90 per cent of the code respositories on Github, an online service used throughout the industry, are owned by men. Yet it's also hard to believe that this erasure of women's role in tech is completely accidental. As Elissa Shevinsky writes in the introduction to a collection of essays on gender in tech, Lean Out: “This myth of the nerdy male founder has been perpetuated by men who found this story favourable."

Does it matter? It’s hard to believe that it doesn’t. Our society is increasingly defined and delineated by code and the things it builds. Small slip-ups, like the lack of a period tracker on the original Apple Watch, or fitness trackers too big for some women’s wrists, gesture to the fact that these technologies are built by male-dominated teams, for a male audience.

In Lean Out, one essay written by a Twitter-based “start-up dinosaur” (don’t ask) explains how dangerous it is to allow one small segment of society to built the future for the rest of us:

If you let someone else build tomorrow, tomorrow will belong to someone else. They will build a better tomorrow for everyone like them… For tomorrow to be for everyone, everyone needs to be the one [sic] that build it.

So where did all the women go? How did we get from a rash of female inventors to a situation where the major female presence at an Apple iPhone launch is a model’s face projected onto a screen and photoshopped into a smile by a male demonstrator? 

Photo: Apple.

The toxic culture of many tech workplaces could be a cause or an effect of the lack of women in the industry, but it certainly can’t make make it easy to stay. Behaviours range from the ignorant - Martha Lane-Fox, founder of, often asked “what happens if you get pregnant?” at investors' meetings - to the much more sinister. An essay in Lean Out by Katy Levinson details her experiences of sexual harassment while working in tech: 

I have had interviewers attempt to solicit sexual favors from me mid-interview and discuss in significant detail precisely what they would like to do. All of these things have happened either in Silicon Valley working in tech, in an educational institution to get me there, or in a technical internship.

Others featured in the book joined in with the low-level sexism and racism  of their male colleagues in order to "fit in" and deflect negative attention. Erica Joy writes that while working in IT at the University of Alaska as the only woman (and only black person) on her team, she laughed at colleagues' "terribly racist and sexist jokes" and "co-opted their negative attitudes”. 

The casual culture and allegedly meritocratic hierarchies of tech companies may actually be encouraging this discriminatory atmosphere. HR and the strict reporting procedures of large corporates at least give those suffering from discrimination a place to go. A casual office environment can discourage reporting or calling out prejudiced humour or remarks. Brook Shelley, a woman who transitioned while working in tech, notes: "No one wants to be the office mother". So instead, you join in and hope for the best. 

And, of course, there's no reason why people working in tech would have fewer issues with discrimination than those in other industries. A childhood spent as a "nerd" can also spawn its own brand of misogyny - Katherine Cross writes in Lean Out that “to many of these men [working in these fields] is all too easy to subconciously confound women who say ‘this is sexist’ with the young girls who said… ‘You’re gross and a creep and I’ll never date you'". During GamerGate, Anita Sarkeesian was often called a "prom queen" by trolls. 

When I spoke to Alexa Clay, entrepreneur and co-author of the Misfit Economy, she confirmed that there's a strange, low-lurking sexism in the start-up economy: “They have all very open and free, but underneath it there's still something really patriarchal.” Start-ups, after all, are a culture which celebrates risk-taking, something which women are societally discouraged from doing. As Clay says, 

“Men are allowed to fail in tech. You have these young guys who these old guys adopt and mentor. If his app doesn’t work, the mentor just shrugs it off. I would not be able ot get away with that, and I think women and minorities aren't allowed to take the same amount of risks, particularly in these communities. If you fail, no one's saying that's fine.

The conclusion of Lean Out, and of women in tech I have spoken to, isn’t that more women, over time, will enter these industries and seamlessly integrate – it’s that tech culture needs to change, or its lack of diversity will become even more severe. Shevinsky writes:

The reason why we don't have more women in tech is not because of a lack of STEM education. It's because too many high profile and influential individuals and subcultures within the tech industry have ignored or outright mistreated women applicants and employees. To be succinct—the problem isn't women, it's tech culture.

Software engineer Kate Heddleston has a wonderful and chilling metaphor about the way we treat women in STEM. Women are, she writes, the “canary in the coal mine”. If one dies, surely you should take that as a sign that the mine is uninhabitable – that there’s something toxic in the air. “Instead, the industry is looking at the canary, wondering why it can’t breathe, saying ‘Lean in, canary, lean in!’. When one canary dies they get a new one because getting more canaries is how you fix the lack of canaries, right? Except the problem is that there isn't enough oxygen in the coal mine, not that there are too few canaries.” We need more women in STEM, and, I’d argue, in tech in particular, but we need to make sure the air is breatheable first. 

Barbara Speed is a technology and digital culture writer at the New Statesman and a staff writer at CityMetric.