Refusing Trenton Oldfield leave to remain is vindictive and baseless

The man who disrupted the Oxford and Cambridge Boat Race last year has been refused a visa. At best this is a woefully inconsistent application of policy, and at worst a vengeful, vindictive and juvenile act.

Trenton Oldfield made a name for himself – as no doubt was his intention – when he disrupted the Oxford and Cambridge Boat Race, last year. His "protest" caused the race to be restarted and much anger among members of the public, many of whom saw his actions as a selfish and supercilious attention-seeking exercise. He was arrested and charged with causing a public nuisance. He was convicted, somewhat unsurprisingly, and given a six-month custodial sentence.

Oldfield, an Australian national, is married and is expecting a child. He has lived in the UK for 10 years and has a tier one visa as a highly-skilled migrant. A tier 1 visa grants individuals leave to remain in the UK for a specified period of time. Presumably, that visa is due to expire and he applied for a spousal visa.

A spousal visa usually operates a two-year probationary period, after which it is necessary to demonstrate that the couple have been living together. The individual may then apply for indefinite leave to remain.

Oldfield’s application was refused. It was reported that the Home Office informed him that following his conviction, his continued presence in the UK would not be "conducive to the public good". General Grounds for Refusal guidance issued by the UK Border Agency in relation to the Immigration Rules suggests that people who are refused leave on the basis that it is conducive to the public good "may include:

  • a member of a proscribed group
  • a person suspected of war crimes or crimes against humanity
  • a person whose presence is undesirable because of their character, conduct or associations
  • a person whose presence might lead to an infringement of UK law or a breach of public order, and/or
  • a person whose presence may lead to an offence being committed by someone else."

The Immigration Rules govern the decision-making in relation to leave to remain and guidance on adverse decisions which is to be read alongside the Rules states that "it will never be appropriate to refuse an application where there is no evidence to support the decision" and that "the refusal must show that the immigration officer or the Secretary of State was acting reasonably in deciding that he was not satisfied." One may question whether that is so.

Deportation

Foreign nationals are open to deportation following a conviction where certain conditions are met. Where, upon a conviction, an individual who is not a British citizen, is sentenced to at least 12 months’ imprisonment, there is a duty incumbent upon the Secretary of State to make a deportation order. This is known as automatic deportation.

Oldfield received a (harsh) six-month sentence and so was nowhere near to the level at which the automatic deportation policy would "bite". There was a power for the court to order his deportation, but this would have been an erroneous decision and one which would no doubt have been successfully quashed on appeal. What is interesting to note then, is that had Oldfield have applied for his spousal visa in 2012, and disrupted the 2013 boat race, he would not have presumably been deported.

The BBC reported that a Home Office spokesperson stated: "Those who come to the UK must abide by our laws.” That is no justification for refusing his application as the deportation regime outlined above did not require his removal. It is arguably contrary Parliament’s will.

If Oldfield was not subject to deportation arising from his conviction in 2012, why should that now be determinative of his leave to remain upon an application for a new visa? At best that is a woefully inconsistent policy, and at worst, it is a vengeful, vindictive and juvenile.

Appeal

Oldfield has a full right of appeal and he told the Guardian that he has appealed against the decision. The appeal will be heard before First-tier Tribunal (Immigration and Asylum Chamber).

There is of course a human rights element to this saga. Both Trenton Oldfield and his wife have a right under article 8 to a family life and it would seem disproportionate and in breach of those rights to refuse him leave to remain as a result of his conviction, despite the deportation procedure not being triggered.

Notwithstanding what you may think of him, perhaps it is worth the Home Office asking whether attempting to remove Oldfield from the UK "conducive to the public good", considering the time and expense involved (and embarrassment when the decision is subsequently reversed). His actions were selfish, yet it is the Home Office who look the fool. 

Editor's note: This article originally stated that Oldfield appeal would be heard by the Special Immigration Appeals Chamber. This was incorrect - it will be heard by the First-tier Tribunal (Immigration and Asylum Chamber) - and the article has been amended accordingly.

Trenton Oldfield. Photograph: Getty Images
Photo: Getty
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We argue over Charlie Gard, but forget those spending whole lives caring for a disabled child

The everyday misery of care work is hidden behind abstract arguments over life and death.

“Sometimes,” says the mother, “I wish we’d let him go. Or that he’d just been allowed to slip away.” The father agrees, sometimes. So too does the child, who is not a child any more.

On good days, nobody thinks this way, but not all days are good. There have been bright spots during the course of the past four decades, occasional moments of real hope, but now everyone is tired, everyone is old and the mundane work of loving takes a ferocious toll.

When we talk about caring for sick children, we usually mean minors. It’s easiest that way. That for some parents, the exhaustion and intensity of those first days with a newborn never, ever ends – that you can be in your fifties, sixties, seventies, caring for a child in their twenties, thirties, forties – is not something the rest of us want to think about.

It’s hard to romanticise devotion strung out over that many hopeless, sleepless nights. Better to imagine the tragic mother holding on to the infant who still fits in her loving arms, not the son who’s now twice her size, himself edging towards middle-age and the cliff edge that comes when mummy’s no longer around.

Writing on the tragic case of Charlie Gard, the Guardian’s Giles Fraser claims that he would “rain fire on the whole world to hold my child for a day longer”. The Gard case, he argues, has “set the cool rational compassion of judicial judgement and clinical expertise against the passion of parental love”: “Which is why those who have never smelled the specific perfume of Charlie’s neck, those who have never held him tight or wept and prayed over his welfare, are deemed better placed to determine how he is to live and die.”

This may be true. It may also be true that right now, countless parents who have smelled their own child’s specific perfume, held them tightly, wept for them, loved them beyond all measure, are wishing only for that child’s suffering to end. What of their love? What of their reluctance to set the world aflame for one day more? And what of their need for a life of their own, away from the fantasies of those who’ll passionately defend a parent’s right to keep their child alive but won’t be there at 5am, night after night, cleaning out feeding tubes and mopping up shit?

Parental – in particular, maternal – devotion is seen as an endlessly renewable resource. A real parent never gets tired of loving. A real parent never wonders whether actually, all things considered, it might have caused less suffering for a child never to have been born at all. Such thoughts are impermissible, not least because they’re dangerous. Everyone’s life matters. Nonetheless, there are parents who have these thoughts, not because they don’t love their children, but because they do.

Reporting on the Gard case reminds me of the sanitised image we have of what constitutes the life of a parent of a sick child. It’s impossible not to feel enormous compassion for Charlie’s parents. As the mother of a toddler, I know that in a similar situation I’d have been torn apart. It’s not difficult to look at photos of Charlie and imagine one’s own child in his place. All babies are small and helpless; all babies cry out to be held.

But attitudes change as children get older. In the case of my own family, I noticed a real dropping away of support for my parents and disabled brother as the latter moved into adulthood. There were people who briefly picked him up as a kind of project and then, upon realising that there would be no schmaltzy ending to the story, dropped him again. Love and compassion don’t conquer all, patience runs out and dignity is clearly best respected from a distance.

All too often, the everyday misery of care work is hidden behind abstract arguments over who gets the right to decide whether an individual lives or dies. I don’t know any parents who truly want that right. Not only would it be morally untenable, it’s also a misrepresentation of what their struggles really are and mean.

What many parents who remain lifelong carers need is adequate respite support, a space in which to talk honestly, and the recognition that actually, sometimes loving is a grim and hopeless pursuit. Those who romanticise parental love – who, like Fraser, wallow in heroic portrayals of “battling, devoted parents” – do nothing to alleviate the suffering of those whose love mingles with resentment, exhaustion and sheer loneliness.

There are parents out there who, just occasionally, would be willing to set the world on fire to have a day’s respite from loving. But regardless of whether your child lives or dies, love never ends. 

Glosswitch is a feminist mother of three who works in publishing.