The truth about London’s “white flight”

A fall in London’s “white British” population does not mean the city is now “majority-migrant”.

London remains a majority-white and majority-British-born city. That was what the 2011 census found. But you may be surprised to hear it, since London now being "45 per cent white British" was one of the most prominent headlines of the 2011 census. Loose discussion of the finding has created a misleading meme. The 45 per cent figure has been received by many ears as suggesting that the capital is either “majority-minority” or “majority-migrant”. Neither is true.

The census facts are clear: our increasingly diverse capital is 60 per cent white and 63 per cent of Londoners are British-born. 

Overall, three-quarters of Londoners are British citizens, and under a quarter are foreign nationals.

But a discussion which conflates ethnicity and nationality risks misleading people about both dimensions. The official census media briefings prominently flagged up the 45 per cent figure on its own as a "key finding", without ensuring what it does and doesn't mean about how white or British London is was understood. By separating them out, we can better understand what the 2011 census data actually tells us about London and how it is changing:

63 per cent of Londoners were born in Britain

The census shows that the population of London is 63 per cent British-born, with over one in three born abroad. This 63 per cent British-born; 37 per cent foreign-born" finding is a more accurate way to capture the scale of migration in London. This also shows the increased pace of migration more accurately: the London population was 27 per cent born-abroad in 2001, and it is now 37 per cent.

Making the "45 per cent white British" statistic the headline claim is to see the salient contrast as between "white Britons" and "ethnic minorities, immigrants and foreigners (as immigrants include both British citizens and foreign nationals). That would seem to depend on the outdated premise that non-white Britons, including those born here, are not viewed as being as authentically British as their white fellow citizens.

Fortunately, the idea that British identity depends on white ethnicity is regarded as a very un-British idea by very broad majorities white and non-white Britons alike. You will find very few people who think Jessica Ennis or Ian Wright are less British than they are, because they are mixed race or black rather than "white British".

The inference that a city which is less "white British" must be less British flies in the face of the well-established evidence that non-white Britons have, on average, a somewhat stronger sense of British identity and allegiance than white Britons. Major studies have repeatedly found this; and the media have repeatedly reported it as a surprising and counter-intuitive finding. 

The population of London is 60 per cent white

"White British" Londoners are now a plurality, rather than a majority. If anybody is interested in ethnicity, the "whiteness" of the capital city , then the census demonstrates that 60 per cent of those resident in London are white. There is a white majority in London once the ethnicity of the Irish and the Americans, the French and the Poles who live and work in the city is taken into account. None of Graham Norton or Terry Wogan, Rolf Harris or Kylie Minogue, Arsene Wenger or Ulrika Johnson are likely to have made any contribution to the white British census score.

Three-quarters of Londoners are British citizens

Of the third of Londoners born abroad, many have become British too. The "foreign-born" 33 per cent will also include some Londoners like Boris Johnson, who were British from birth, though born abroad, in New York in his case. (So the Mayor is included in the "white British" 45 per cent but not in the British-born 67 per cent. The children of soldiers posted abroad helped boost the German-born category to fifth non-British country of birth, for example). 

Others were not born British but chose to become British. Again, the British tradition is that all citizens count as fully and equally British, including those like Prince Phillip and Mo Farah who were born abroad. Across England and Wales as a whole, around a third of those born abroad have been here more than twenty years,arriving across the decades between 1950 and 1990. 

This census release reported that 24 per cent of Londoners hold non-British passports. However, this will also include some who are dual nationals, and who are British too. There is a promise to include in "subsequent releases from 2011 census ... a more complete indicator of migration status since, for example, British citizens can be born abroad and other people living in the UK who were born abroad can acquire British citizenship".

The census data published so far does not reveal the precise proportion of Londoners who are British citizens. It shows that over 70 per cent of Londoners hold a British passport, but the 8 per cent of Londoners who do not hold a passport will include many British citizens too. (This gives London the lowest proportion of non-passport holders in the UK, compared to 22 per cent in Wales). However, in the meantime, data does exist elsewhere. The findings from the 2011 Labour Force Survey data show that foreign citizens made up 19 per cent of the population of outer London, and 27 per cent of those in inner London. The University of Oxford Migration Observatory calculates that, overall, that would translate into 22 per cent of London residents being foreign nationals.

The census snapshot captures much temporary as well as permanent migration

The headline census figure that 7.5 million people resident in England and Wales were born abroad and that half arrived in the last decade. That reflects the historic rise in migration over the last decade, as every report has stressed. What has been seldom explained is how and why those raw figures will also tend to exaggerate the increase. 

The census is a "snapshot". It tells us about the usual residents of England and Wales on one night in March 2001. That snapshot approach means that it cannot easily convey one of the biggest changes in immigration patterns over the last decade: a sharp shift towards temporary rather than permanent migration.

We tend to think of the "Ellis Island model" of immigration: you arrive, with your suitcase, and settle for good. But the changes in travel and communications that have made migration easier have made it easier to go back too. 72 per cent of migrants to the UK now come for less than five years, as the Migration Observatory at the University of Oxford has reported. A majority of those classed as "long-term" migrants (here for more than 12 months) say they intend to stay for one or two years.

The census "snapshot" captures the scale of migration, but not this challenging new dynamic of increased churn.

While half of the foreign born-residents currently in England and Wales have arrived in the last ten years, most of them will not stay, while a proportion will settle and become British. Indeed, hundreds of thousands of those recorded in the census almost two years ago will already have gone; others have arrived, and again most will later leave, while a significant minority will settle, become British and see their children become "us" too.

Londoners shopping on Oxford Street. Photograph: Getty Images

Sunder Katwala is director of British Future and former general secretary of the Fabian Society.

A National Trust property. Photo: Getty
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The National Trust is right to bring gay history out of the closet

If you want to explore the history of Britain, you can't ignore its LGBT citizens.

Imagine seeing a monument to executed gay men and thinking literally anything other than, “how sad and poignant”. In September, the National Trust unveiled exactly such a memorial at one of their properties in Dorset. Kingston Lacy was once owned by William John Bankes, a man whose sexuality, in nineteenth century Britain, was a capital offence. The NT’s moving tribute to Lacy and so many others persecuted for being queer was deemed a “PC stunt” by the Daily Mail. Tory MP Andrew Bridgen somehow managed to find the monument “totally inappropriate”, adding that he looks to the Church for moral guidance – not the National Trust.

 But let me backtrack. I’m in the darkened vault of the Tower of London where the Crown Jewels are kept. The tour guide has just made a joke about vibrators.

The last time I was here, I was about nine and I was on a day out with my grandma. She made no mention whatsoever of sex toys. I wonder, actually, if this is the closest to this ceremonial bling a joke about vibrators has ever been made. I also wonder if there’s ever been a tour of the Tower of London where the guide – as my one did about fifteen minutes ago – has quite overtly slammed British imperialism. One thing I know for certain though: this is the first ever official LGBTQ tour of the Tower, organised by none other than Historic Royal Palaces – the charity that manages several of the UK’s grandest former homes.

 Earlier, at Traitors’ Gate, me and a tour group of about twenty people were told about Irish republican Roger Casement, who was executed, here, in 1916. Casement was dedicated to speaking out against the atrocities of imperialism, and was rumoured to be gay. But it wasn’t his alleged homosexuality that landed him in this thousand-year-old fortress-turned-prison, rather his involvement in the Easter Rising. King James I though – I later learn – was almost definitely gay or bi, having a number of “favourite” male courtiers. “Favourite” seeming to be a particularly coy seventeenth century euphemism for “gay lover”.

 The tour lasts about an hour and, although at times it seems to be slightly scraping the barrel for queer content, the pure effort of it is nothing short of heroic. The Crown Jewels section focused in on Queen Victoria, and all the anti-gay legislation introduced during her infamously prudish reign. On this tour, her freakishly tiny crown becomes a symbol of oppression rather than a cutesy royal knick-knack. Which, I can only imagine, would have the “gay agenda”-fearing monarchy groupies of middle England in a Faragean frenzy.

 This year marks the fiftieth anniversary of the 1967 Sexual Offences Act, which partially decriminalised (male) gay sex in England and Wales. And with the sheer number of events, like the queer Tower tour, at palaces and historic institutions – from Hampton Court to the British Library – you’d think it was the Queen’s platinum jubilee.

Now for some word association.

 “National Trust”.

 Pensioners? Fruitcake? Dust? Anarchic genderqueer hook-up joint?

 Not so much that last one? Well then, it may come as a surprise that it was the fusty old National Trust, working alongside the National Archives, that recreated a historically accurate covert 1930s London gay bar. For a couple of nights in March this year, Soho’s Freud Café was transformed into “London’s most bohemian rendezvous”, the Caravan club. In a spectacularly and appropriately theatrical evening of incense, cocktails and vintage drag queens, the NT totally nailed the “illegal den of queer iniquity” thing. This was preceded by a historic LGBTQ tour of Soho, which, like the Tower tour, didn’t gloss over the brutality of the British establishment. The Soho tour was rightfully heavy on harrowing stories about police raids on queer venues. In fact, it was through police reports collected by the National Archives that the NT was able to recreate The Caravan (which was shut down by the police in 1934).

Further north in London, another LGBTQ event hosted by the National Trust was “Sutton House Queered”. If the idea of a Tudor manor house in Hackney isn’t surreal enough, in February the grade II listed former home to aristocracy was the setting of a queer art exhibition. Think – richly wood panelled great room containing a painting of Henry VIII in full bondage gear. This was also the debut of the first gender-neutral public toilet in an NT property.

And, in a display of borderline hilarious inevitability, the Daily Mail … raised objections. “Preserve us from a National Trust that’s so achingly right-on”, quacked a Mail headline in December last year, after the NT announced its plans for a series of “Prejudice and Pride” events marking the 50th anniversary of the Sexual Offences Act. This July, the NT came under attack from the Mail, yet again, for outing late aristocrat, Robert Wyndham Ketton-Cremer. Ketton-Cremer left his Norfolk home to the Trust in 1969, and was supposedly outed as gay in a recent film for the “Prejudice and Pride” series. Whether or not the NT’s decision to discuss Ketton-Cremer’s sexuality was ethical, it’s a refreshing sort of controversy: the kind where an old British institution is actually quite blasé about gay sex, and the Mail goes nuts.

 Throughout this year, my inbox has been almost quite alarmingly full of press releases for queer-related events and promotions. From rainbow hummus (yes.) at the Real Greek restaurant, to “Pride at the Palace” at Hampton Court, more than ever, everyone seems to want a slice of the gay action. The Tate Britain’s “Queer British Art” exhibition, which opened in April, showcases a century (1867—1967) of sexually subversive works by LGBTQ artists. Although overwhelmingly male and posh, it’s hard to play down the importance of such a simultaneously harrowing and celebratory retrospective. In one room, A large and imposing portrait of Oscar Wilde stands right next to the actual door to his prison cell in Reading Gaol, where he was imprisoned for the absolute non-crime of “gross indecency”. Even if Britain’s cultural institutions are just playing up to a trend, a very big part of me is into it.

 In July, I went to a panel discussion organised by Opening Doors London, a charity that provides support for older LGBTQ people. A group of queer people who were adults when the Sexual Offences Act was passed spoke about what this anniversary means to them. When I asked panellist Jane Traies, the author of The Lives of Older Lesbians: Sexuality, Identity & the Life Course, what she thought about the likes of the National Trust taking on queer history, she was understandably wary of the possible faddy-ness of it all.

“It’s good, though, that history itself should come out of the closet,” she said.

                                                                                       

Eleanor Margolis is a freelance journalist, whose "Lez Miserable" column appears weekly on the New Statesman website.