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A murder, an enquiry, and dashed hopes

Stephen Lawrence and institutional racism

When racists murdered black teenager Stephen Lawrence in London in 1993 his family had to fight hard for an enquiry into the way the police conducted their investigation of the murder. They and their supporters fought for five years until an enquiry was eventually set up in March 1998, chaired by Lord Macpherson. The enquiry report was published in February 1999 and found that the Metropolitan Police had, during its investigation of the murder, shown itself to be “institutionally racist”. This meant, according to Imran Khan (the Lawrence family’s solicitor) that

“we are dealing not with individual prejudice but with power. That power is derived from racist laws, constitutional conventions, judicial precedents, institutional practices – all of which have the sanction of the state and the blessing of our establishment.”[1]

In the wake of the report, the Labour government passed the Race Relations (Amendment) Act 2001, which finally applied race relations law to the police. There was a feeling that a real change had taken place in British race relations, that the Macpherson enquiry, in the words of Imran Khan, was “a kind of truth commission in which official acknowledgment was finally given to the evil of racism which had been perpetrated for years on the black communities of this country.”

Of course, we now know that the truth about the conduct of the case was not fully told at that time. The Macpherson enquiry was no real “truth commission”. Much remained hidden and unacknowledged, much remained covered up: we now know, for example, that the Metropolitan Police concealed suspicions about corruption among the investigating police officers from the Macpherson panel; that the victim’s family and friends were put under surveillance by the police, as if somehow they must be guilty of something; and it was to be 18 years before anyone was convicted of the murder, and even then only two perpetrators were arrested and prosecuted (at their trial the evidence was clear that Stephen was set upon by five or six youths). Nevertheless, in the immediate aftermath of Macpherson, many people felt that real change had taken place.

But it turned out quite quickly that it was not enough. First, in spite of anti-discrimination laws, watchdogs like the Commission for Racial Equality (CRE), numerous councils for community relations and a statutory duty for public authorities “to promote race equality”,[2] racism, discrimination and disadvantage had not been eliminated. According to the CRE in 2005, members of ethnic minorities were still more likely to be stopped, searched and arrested, more likely to be victims of crime (including racial offences), and were disproportionately represented in the prison population;[3] ethnic minorities were more likely to be in poor housing and live in deprived areas;[4] members of ethnic minorities showed higher levels of unemployment, had lower incomes and a worse position in the labour market than whites and this was due, in part, to “substantial levels of racial discrimination”.[5]

Secondly, even as the 2001 Act was being passed and celebrated, new asylum laws were being introduced to deal with a so-called “asylum crisis”. These laws told a different story to that suggested by the Act – a story of racism revived, and aimed at the new asylum seekers.

Asylum legislation and rules

Asylum seekers were not mentioned in the various immigration measures during the post-war period until the Immigration Rules 1980. Under these rules, asylum claims were to be assessed in accordance with the 1951 Refugee Convention. While we might be tempted to see this in a positive light, developments in the mid 1980s suggest the emergence of policymaking based once more on a major contradiction: the UK, while officially recognising its international obligations to refugees, undermined those same obligations by means of regulations, procedures and legislation. So visa restrictions were imposed on nationals of countries producing high numbers of refugees, and by 1996 there were 105 such countries. Moreover, in 1987 the Immigration (Carriers’ Liability) Act imposed fines of £2,000 on airlines and ferry operators for every passenger without valid travel documents. This impacted heavily on refugees, since the urgency of flight, and fear of the authorities in their countries of origin, meant that many refugees lacked such documentation.

The Asylum and Immigration Appeals Act 1993 and the Immigration Rules 1994 follow the same pattern. The Act incorporated the 1951 Refugee Convention into UK law and established certain rights of appeal. Yet this acknowledgement of Refugee Convention obligations and the apparent attempt to establish a fair process for meeting them ran alongside measures which undermined such commitments. First, the rights of appeal were themselves limited by the Act – indeed, the most important limitation was imposed simply on the basis of the home secretary’s opinion: “… if the Secretary of State has certified that, in his opinion, the person’s claim is without foundation” no appeal is available beyond the Special Adjudicator.[6] Special Adjudicators “do not have to be legally qualified”[7] but their judgment is final. They may refer a case back to the home secretary for reconsideration, but if he reaffirms his own opinion there is no further appeal.

After the 1993 Act the balance between meeting obligations and avoiding them shifted towards avoidance. Hayter notes that the Act “was followed by an unprecedented increase in rates of refusal, from 14 per cent in the six months before the Act to 72 per cent after it, while the granting of Exceptional Leave to Remain … fell from 76 per cent to 22 per cent of decisions.”[8] The restrictions and penalties increased under the Asylum and Immigration Act 1996, which extended the grounds for fast-tracking applications, abolished the right of appeal against removal to another EU country, introduced a list of “safe” countries, many of them of doubtful safety (including India, Pakistan, Romania and Nigeria – protests led to the removal of Nigeria). It removed the right to welfare benefits for those seeking asylum after entry and those pursuing an appeal, and it introduced sanctions on employers hiring anyone who did not have permission to work in Britain.

Although the Labour opposition had opposed the 1996 Act when it was introduced, once the party had won the 1997 election the government prepared even more restrictive legislation. Labour’s retreat from opposition to the 1996 Act mirrored its retreat from opposition to the 1962 Act, and happened for the same reason – the fear of losing votes. Hayter argues that the attitude of Labour politicians towards asylum seekers “parallels their attitude to criminals: Labour must demonstrate that it can be tougher towards them than the Tories were, and so remove one of the perceived electoral assets of the Tories.”[9] So the post-1997 legislation, regulations and other measures continued the restrictive trend begun by the Conservatives:

The Immigration and Asylum Act 1999   This Act set the tone for Labour’s asylum policy into the new millennium. It “gave extensive new powers to the home secretary and extended police powers to search, arrest and detain asylum seekers.”[10] It also introduced a duty on registrars to “report suspicious marriages” (s. 24) and a penalty of £2000 on lorry drivers for every passenger without documents (s. 32). The Act separated asylum seekers from mainstream welfare provision, setting their support levels below those of the mainstream and introducing the compulsory “dispersal” of asylum seekers to allocated areas across the country, with accommodation provided on a no-choice basis. This system was to be managed by a new government agency, the National Asylum Support Service (NASS), which took over the direct role previously occupied by local authorities. NASS then subcontracted work both to them and to private housing providers and voluntary agencies. We will see in a later blog how these changes were driven by the primary aims of deterrence and restriction.

The Nationality and Immigration Act 2002   This Act is best known for section 55, under which people who have not managed to apply for asylum within three days of arrival in the UK may be refused all financial support and accommodation and thus left destitute. Although the government claimed that this measure was only aimed at certain illegal categories, increasing numbers of asylum seekers fell foul of it and it is seen by many of them, and by many agencies, as a measure aimed at deterring applications.

The Act as a whole, writes Sales, set out “to segregate asylum seekers further from mainstream society and to promote their speedy removal.”[11] It provided for induction and accommodation centres where asylum applicants would be housed while their claims were being processed (s. 16), and where their children could be educated outside the mainstream education system. Sales noted that the establishment of accommodation centres was prevented by local campaigns against them (Sales 2007:149),[12] but the aim of detaining most asylum applicants remained.

The 2002 Act reflected the aims of the government, set out in its preceding White Paper, to speed up appeals, set target figures for the deportation of refused applicants and facilitate an increased rate of removals.[13] With these ends in mind, the government announced a 40% increase in removal centre capacity.[14] Indeed, detention – including detention of children – was to play a significant role in the UK asylum system in the following years. On 24 September 2005, according to Home Office figures, there were 1,695 asylum detainees in the UK; 75 of them were under 18. A 2005 report by the charity Save the Children estimated that “around 2,000 children are detained with their families every year for the purpose of immigration control”, the length of detention ranging from seven to 268 days.[15]

Asylum and Immigration (Treatment of Claimants) Act 2004   Section 8 of this Act made failure to produce a valid passport an offence. This arguably contravened Article 31 of the Refugee Convention, which lays down that states may not impose penalties on people “who … enter or are present in their territory without authorisation …”[16] Section 8 also raised doubts about the credibility of applicants who fail to claim asylum when passing through a “safe” country or who fail to answer certain questions to the satisfaction of Home Office caseworkers or other officials. Section 9 excluded families with children from benefit if, after their final refusal, they failed to make arrangements to leave or volunteer for the government’s voluntary returns programme. Families would then face destitution and their children could be taken into local authority care. Section 26 of the Act reduced asylum seekers’ rights of appeal and their access to the higher courts.

NAM and the Immigration, Asylum and Nationality Act 2006   In 2005 the government announced a Five Year Strategy for Asylum and Immigration,[17] and this included the New Asylum Model (NAM). New procedures would speed up the asylum process, involving shorter timescales, early “segmentation” of applicants into categories before the details of their cases were fully known, and an even wider use of detention. The Refugee Council was concerned that these changes would have a negative impact on the ability of asylum seekers to recover from trauma and prepare their cases, on their chances of adequate legal representation[18] and on their access to appeal procedures,[19] and it criticised the potentially arbitrary nature of “segmentation”.[20] Moreover, refugee status would no longer be permanent but would now be “granted on a temporary basis to be reviewed after five years in relation to the safety of the country of origin”.[21] The Refugee Council was concerned that people would be placed “in limbo, unable to rebuild their lives for fear of having their refugee status withdrawn”.[22] Much of this did not require new legislation but was implemented by means of Home Office rules and other instruments. Where legislation was needed it was provided in the Immigration, Asylum and Nationality Act 2006.

The UK Borders Act 2007   The bill which was to become the UK Borders Act 2007 was announced to parliament before many of the provisions of the 2006 Act had come into force. It showed the Labour government’s continuing negative approach to immigration and asylum: the Queen’s speech of 15 November 2006 announced that “A bill will be introduced to provide the immigration service with further powers to police the country’s borders, tackle immigration crime, and to make it easier to deport those who break the law.”[23] The press release on the day of the bill’s presentation to the House of Commons explained that these powers would include powers of arrest and detention and, in the context of asylum, powers to “arrest those they believe to have fraudulently been acquiring asylum-support, and to exercise associated powers of entry, search and seizure.”[24] The UK Borders Act made no reference to the UK’s Refugee Convention obligations to give protection within its borders to those who needed it.

Sales concludes that, under both Conservative and Labour governments, asylum policy has continued

“to treat asylum seekers with suspicion, as a risk to society rather than as people themselves at risk. Policy has therefore aimed at excluding them from developing connections with mainstream society in order to remove them as easily and speedily as possible.”[25]

 

[1] Khan, I. (2003), “Labour’s hypocrisy on race”, The Guardian (22 April), London.

[2] The Race Equality Duty (2005), Commission for Racial Equality, London. (http://www.cre.gov.uk/duty/index)

[3] “Race Equality Impact Assessment – Statistics: Criminal Justice” (2005), in The Race Equality Duty, Commission for Racial Equality, London. (http://www.cre.gov.uk/duty/index)

[4] “Race Equality Impact Assessment – Statistics: Housing” (2005), in The Race Equality Duty, Commission for Racial Equality, London. (http://www.cre.gov.uk/duty/index)

[5]“Race Equality Impact Assessment – Statistics: Labour Market” (2005), in The Race Equality Duty, Commission for Racial Equality, London. (http://www.cre.gov.uk/duty/index)

[6] AIAA (1993), Asylum and Immigration Appeals Act 1993, Sch 2, para 5(1), HMSO, London.

[7] Burgess, H. (2001), Political Asylum from the Inside, WorldView Publishing, Oxford, p. 169.

[8] Hayter, T. (2000), Open Borders: the Case against Immigration Controls, Pluto Press, London, p.76.

[9] Ibid., p. 79.

[10] Sales, R. (2007), Understanding Immigration and Refugee Policy: Contradictions and Continuities, The Policy Press and the Social Policy Association, Bristol, p. 148.

 

[11] Sales, R. (2007), Understanding Immigration and Refugee Policy: Contradictions and Continuities, The Policy Press and the Social Policy Association, Bristol, p. 149.

[12] Ibid.

[13] Secure Borders, Safe Haven: Integration with Diversity in Modern Britain, HMSO, London, pp. 65-66.

[14] Ibid., p. 66.

[15] Crawley, H. & Lester, T. (2005), No Place for a Child, Save the Children, London, p. viii.

[16] Convention and Protocol Relating to the Status of Refugees, Article 31, UNHCR, Geneva.

 

[17] Controlling our Borders: Making Migration work for Britain, HMSO, London.

[18] Briefing NAM (2007), New Asylum Model (August 2007), Refugee Council, London, para. 4.2 (i).

[19] Ibid., para. 6.2.

[20] Ibid., para. 4.2 (iii).

[21] Sales, R. (2007), Understanding Immigration and Refugee Policy: Contradictions and Continuities, The Policy Press and the Social Policy Association, Bristol, p. 151.

[22] Briefing IAN (2006), Immigration, Asylum and Nationality Bill: Key Issues and Concerns, Refugee Council, London, p. 3.

[23] Sales, R. (2007), Understanding Immigration and Refugee Policy: Contradictions and Continuities, The Policy Press and the Social Policy Association, Bristol, p. 151.

[24] Home Office press release, 26 January 2007.

[25] Sales, R. (2007), Understanding Immigration and Refugee Policy: Contradictions and Continuities, The Policy Press and the Social Policy Association, Bristol, p. 152.

Snooker

The biggest reversal of fortune for twenty years, said Rob Walker as he warmed up the audience for the morning session on 22 April at the Crucible in Sheffield. It’s the World Championship and Ding Jun-hui – favourite to be at least in the semi-final against Ronnie O’Sullivan – was beaten 10-9 the night before by comparative newcomer Michael Wasley, after an unplanned late-night final frame, at a time when everybody should have gone home to bed. Mark Selby had just beaten Michael White; someone else had beaten someone else on the other side of the dividing screen. (Sorry, I can’t remember who they were – I was watching Selby!). But did we go home? No chance. We’d been told that Ding and Wasley were coming. I for one was cursing because I’d missed out on them earlier. And then suddenly it was spring: they hadn’t managed to finish their match in the afternoon and so they were dragged back late at night, long after the lights should have been out, for an emergency final two frames. They finished at ten past midnight. The staff on the doors wished us all a good morning as we left!

The first frame was all Wasley’s. It hardly seemed worth Ding staying up. But the second was harder work for Wasley – Ding is no slouch and is nowadays described as one of the best players in the world. That’s why 10-9 to Wasley was such a shock.

It’s a pity Ding’s not going to be playing Ronnie in the semi-final. They are good mates, and Ronnie was one of the people who gave him good support when he needed it after he arrived on the Western snooker scene from China some years back, nervous and a bit shy.

“We can’t tell what he’s thinking,” whined much of the press and some of the snooker commentators, reaching for the nearest stereotype. “That’s the trouble with these Orientals.”

“Leave him alone,” said Ronnie to the press, who were baiting a very sad-looking Ding after he’d been defeated in a final – by Ronnie himself as it happened. After defeating Ding on another occasion, Ronnie gave him a hug, and a kiss on the top of his head. Snooker can be like that sometimes. Then it’s good.

Now Ding is “one of the best players in the world”. But this week Wasley is the name on everybody’s lips. He might even get to play the semi-final. I don’t actually think he will this time. Give him a couple of years. He’s only 24.

Making sure we know what should be “frowned upon”

Cathy Newman disappointed me tonight on Channel 4 News. She asked Tory MP David Davis whether, considering Nigel Evans had been “involved with a man 33 years his junior”, could Davis “be confident that he has emerged without a stain on his character?” Davis rightly answered that he had “emerged as an innocent man”. He added, also quite rightly, “I’m not at all sure what the laws are on the relative ages of partners in these things but I don’t think what he’s done there is a criminal offence at all.”

Cathy was undeterred, however. “It might be frowned upon”, quoth she, “for a powerful politician to get involved with someone so much younger who had done work experience in Westminster.”

Bit of class disdain there, Cathy? Deputy Speaker in relationship with mere – er, well, er – pleb? Davis replied that age wasn’t the issue. He explained to her what her real question should have been: basically, did Evans abuse his powerful position in that relationship? The outcome in court, replied Davis, said that he didn’t. I hope that’s the case and not just the answer of a Tory MP defending one of his own. But that is certainly the question Newman should have asked.

And now I wish to make a statement relating to the question she did ask: until 2011 I was “involved” – wonderful word, isn’t it? – with a man 30 years younger than myself  in a 6-year relationship. A good experience it was too – for both of us.

So find better questions, Cathy, for Gawd’s sake, and save me the horror of defending answers given by a Tory MP.

“Liberal agenda” masks “political cowardice”

After donning the white trousers (see previous blog: https://bobmouncerblog.wordpress.com/2014/03/31/pinching-the-tories-white-trousers/ ) what did Labour do?

Race relations

After Labour’s tightening of immigration controls following the 1964 election, the rest of the 1960s saw the development of a new approach to race and immigration in the UK: the race-relations approach. This was tacitly supported by the Conservatives, who were also worried by the uncertain consequences of the racial hatred stirred up at Smethwick. Conservative frontbencher Robert Carr saw the consensus between the two parties as “a marriage … of convenience – not from the heart.”[1] Labour insisted that its liberal credentials were intact because the approach’s emphasis on integration was the key to social peace, the mark of a “civilised society”. But (crucially, and to justify the tightening-up of the Act) it would have to include immigration controls if it was to be successful. In 1965 Home Office minister Roy Hattersley expressed it thus: “Integration without control is impossible, but control without integration is indefensible.”[2] When Roy Jenkins became home secretary in 1966 he laid out his policy stall in a speech which was to become a foundation text for the new approach. He emphasised the integration side of Hattersley’s equation, defining it both negatively and positively:

“I do not regard [integration] as meaning the loss, by immigrants, of their own national characteristics and culture. I do not think we need in this country a “melting pot”, which will turn everyone out in a common mould, as one of a series of carbon copies of someone’s misplaced vision of the stereotyped Englishman.”[3]

He defined integration positively as “cultural diversity, coupled with equality of opportunity in an atmosphere of mutual tolerance”, and added: “If we are to maintain any sort of world reputation for civilised living and social cohesion, we must get far nearer to its achievement than is the case today.” Here was the moral, political and social justification for his liberal agenda and the multicultural society that would evolve from it.

Contradiction

There was, however, a contradiction at the heart of the approach which has dogged it ever since: it is inconsistent to claim to want to celebrate cultural diversity in society on the one hand and discriminate against black and Asian immigrants on the other. Thirty-four years later Roy Hattersley admitted as much: “If your immigration restrictions are too repressive you encourage bad race relations rather than encourage contentment and satisfaction, because you are saying, ‘We can’t afford any more of these people here’, and the implication is that there is something undesirable about these people.”[4] The truth is that race relations policy was not the result of high principle (as suggested by Gaitskell’s opposition to the 1962 Act or by Jenkins’s exposition of his liberal agenda) but of the complete abandonment of principle after 1964. After Smethwick “the government panicked”, explained Barbara Castle. The tightening-up of restrictions by Labour was done “out of political cowardice, not political conviction.”[5] So the whole liberal project had its origin in a surrender to racism.

A “half-hearted affair” for “a people apart”

This helps to explain the weakness of the first Race Relations Act in 1965 and the inadequacies of the second in 1968. The 1965 Act prohibited “incitement to racial hatred” but did not cover discrimination in housing and employment, did not contain criminal sanctions against those who discriminated, and did not apply to the police. A. Sivanandan, working at the Institute for Race Relations, described it as “a half-hearted affair which merely forbade discrimination in ‘places of public resort’ and, by default, encouraged discrimination in everything else: housing, employment, etc.”[6] Moreover, the Race Relations Board, set up under the Act to provide for a conciliation process to deal with discrimination in public places, sent the wrong message: “To ordinary blacks,” Sivanandan argued, such structures “were irrelevant: liaison and conciliation seemed to define them as a people apart who somehow needed to be fitted into the mainstream of British society – when all they were seeking was  the same rights as other citizens.” The ineffectiveness both of the Act and the Board is summed up by Hayter:

“The first person to be charged under this Act was Michael X, a black militant. When Duncan Sandys, a prominent Tory MP, attacked a government report on education by stating that ‘The breeding of millions of half-caste children will merely produce a generation of misfits and increase social tension’, the Race Relations Board was unable or unwilling to prosecute him.”[7]

The 1968 Race Relations Act went further by bringing employment and housing into its ambit, but its inadequacies were apparent:

“The Act introduced fines on employers who were found to discriminate on the grounds of race, and compensation, but not reinstatement, for the people discriminated against … but the enforcement powers of the Race Relations Board remained weak.”[8]

Moreover, the anti-discrimination provisions still did not apply to the police. Jenkins had faced opposition from the police when discussing the first Act and in 1968 the new home secretary, James Callaghan, bowed to similar pressure. The year 1968 also saw the passing of another Commonwealth Immigrants Act.

In the next blog: the Kenyan Asians and Enoch Powell.

 

[1] Playing the Race Card, October-November 1999, Channel Four Television, London.

[2] Favell, A. (2001), Philosophies of Integration: Immigration and the Idea of Citizenship in France and Britain, Palgrave, Basingstoke, p. 104.

[3] Cited, ibid.

[4] Playing the Race Card, October-November 1999, Channel Four Television, London.

[5] Ibid.

[6] Cited, Fryer, P. (1984), Staying Power: the History of Black People in Britain, Pluto Press, London, p. 383.

[7] Hayter, T. (2000), Open Borders: the Case against Immigration Controls, Pluto Press, London, p. 35.

[8] Ibid.