David Willetts calls Theresa May's plans for foreign students "mean-spirited". Photo: Getty
Show Hide image

Former Tory universities minister slams Theresa May's plan to curb overseas student numbers

The former universities and science minister, David Willetts, blasts the Home Secretary's proposal for a student visa overhaul.

It was reported this week, as part of proposals apparently mooted so far for the Conservatives' 2015 manifesto, that the Home Secretary plans for overseas students to leave the UK and reapply for work visas once they've completed their studies.

Today, the Tories' former universities and science minister, who left the cabinet table in July this year, has condemned these plans in an article for The Times. Its headline reads: "May’s mean-spirited plan will damage Britain".

He writes:

We have already tightened up the rules and cracked down on bogus colleges to stop our student visa regime being exploited. But eventually you reach a tipping point. A further tightening of post-study work, as floated by the Home Office at the weekend, would do real damage to our universities and drive away overseas students. Indeed the Indian papers followed up yesterday with headlines such as “UK government plans to kick out foreign graduates”.

Willetts dismisses May's idea to deport students once they've finished their degrees “mean-spirited and inward looking”, and calls students studying abroad "an expanding global market" that Britain should keep, and increase, its share of.

Willetts, a veteran Tory frontbencher, is a respected figure (his nickname is "Two Brains", and he has written a number of well-received political books) and his remarks will prove embarrassing for the Home Secretary if the Tories decide to go ahead and put this proposal on their manifesto for the next election. Her plan to curb overseas students is being seen as gesture politics, to look tough on immigration to the UK, and mark herself out from other potential contenders for the Tory leadership.

Anoosh Chakelian is deputy web editor at the New Statesman.

Show Hide image

For the first time in my life I have a sworn enemy – and I don’t even know her name

The cyclist, though, was enraged. “THAT’S CLEVER, ISN’T IT?” she yelled. “WALKING IN THE ROAD!”

Last month, I made an enemy. I do not say this lightly, and I certainly don’t say it with pride, as a more aggressive male might. Throughout my life I have avoided confrontation with a scrupulousness that an unkind observer would call out-and-out cowardice. A waiter could bring the wrong order, cold and crawling with maggots, and in response to “How is everything?” I’d still manage a grin and a “lovely, thanks”.

On the Underground, I’m so wary of being a bad citizen that I often give up my seat to people who aren’t pregnant, aren’t significantly older than me, and in some cases are far better equipped to stand than I am. If there’s one thing I am not, it’s any sort of provocateur. And yet now this: a feud.

And I don’t even know my enemy’s name.

She was on a bike when I accidentally entered her life. I was pushing a buggy and I wandered – rashly, in her view – into her path. There’s little doubt that I was to blame: walking on the road while in charge of a minor is not something encouraged by the Highway Code. In my defence, it was a quiet, suburban street; the cyclist was the only vehicle of any kind; and I was half a street’s length away from physically colliding with her. It was the misjudgment of a sleep-deprived parent rather than an act of malice.

The cyclist, though, was enraged. “THAT’S CLEVER, ISN’T IT?” she yelled. “WALKING IN THE ROAD!”

I was stung by what someone on The Apprentice might refer to as her negative feedback, and walked on with a redoubled sense of the parental inadequacy that is my default state even at the best of times.

A sad little incident, but a one-off, you would think. Only a week later, though, I was walking in a different part of town, this time without the toddler and engrossed in my phone. Again, I accept my culpability in crossing the road without paying due attention; again, I have to point out that it was only a “close shave” in the sense that meteorites are sometimes reported to have “narrowly missed crashing into the Earth” by 50,000 miles. It might have merited, at worst, a reproving ting of the bell. Instead came a familiar voice. “IT’S YOU AGAIN!” she yelled, wrathfully.

This time the shock brought a retort out of me, probably the harshest thing I have ever shouted at a stranger: “WHY ARE YOU SO UNPLEASANT?”

None of this is X-rated stuff, but it adds up to what I can only call a vendetta – something I never expected to pick up on the way to Waitrose. So I am writing this, as much as anything, in the spirit of rapprochement. I really believe that our third meeting, whenever it comes, can be a much happier affair. People can change. Who knows: maybe I’ll even be walking on the pavement

Mark Watson is a stand-up comedian and novelist. His most recent book, Crap at the Environment, follows his own efforts to halve his carbon footprint over one year.

This article first appeared in the 20 October 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Brothers in blood