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28 July 2025

9 min read

The facts and our feelings both puncture the small boats-fuelled immigration argument

From stats to sociology, how to be better informed on the issue

Roger Standing

Roger is a theologian and author with a particular interest in the relationship between faith and culture.

A people sumggler steers an overcrowded small boat.

A people smuggler steers a small boat, 2021.

x.com/ukhomeoffice.

Late in the evening of May 20, over 80 refugees clambered aboard the small boat that was to bring them to England. They had not gone far when French rescue services were summoned with the boat still located off the Pas de Calais. An eight-year-old boy and a 40-year-old woman were pronounced dead by the medical team and taken to Calais. Both were believed to be Turkish nationals, with their deaths presumed to have been caused by a combination of crushing and suffocation. The small boat continued its journey without them, though 10 others were also evacuated.

This story is deeply shocking.

What is also profoundly disturbing is that, while we may not be aware of the details of this particular case, the story is still familiar to us. According to the University of Oxford’s Migration Observatory there were 73 deaths crossing the Channel in 2024.

It was almost 30 years ago, in the wake of the UK’s 1996 Immigration & Nationality act that I first became aware of the issues surrounding refugees and asylum seekers. Our church in Croydon was only a short walk from the Home Office’s Immigration and Nationality Directorate based at Lunar House, and it seemed to make sense to begin a drop-in centre. The Croydon Refugee Day Centre has continued its work ever since.

From the beginning it was hard to miss the fact that asylum was a hot-button issue. The reactions it triggered were intense. I also quickly discovered that nothing was straight-forward. Weaponised politics, the labyrinthine complexity and glacial slowness of our state bureaucracy along with the internecine nature of the charitable sector made collaborating with others frustrating and problematic to say the least.

Over the years I’ve learned two important lessons with regard to immigration and asylum. First, what grabs the headlines is not necessarily the most important issue. Indeed, it can deflect attention, action and resources from what is of primary significance. Then, second, complex issues are rarely solved by simple, straight-forward, 'silver bullet’ solutions. As the American satirist H. L. Mencken observed:

“Every complex problem has a solution which is simple, direct, plausible—and wrong.”

So, with the issue unlikely to go away in the foreseeable future, these are some of the things I believe we need to understand and have an eye to.

Immigration: don’t get confused

When the Office for National Statistics reported in May that the total of long-term immigrants to the UK in 2024 was 948,000, that really does seem like a very big number. And it is. But it includes everyone coming to the UK who is changing the normal place where they live. It includes those who’ve come to study here (30 per cent) and those who’ve got a UK-based job (33 per cent).

The foreign students on full fees raise vital revenue for the universities and subsidise the fees for home students, and those coming to work here make a significant contribution to the economy. Not to mention the legacy of ‘soft’ influence when both return home having had positive experiences of life in the UK.

Incidentally, and a little out of left field, the immigration figure also includes Brits returning home from living abroad. In 2024 they accounted for 60,000 individuals, or 6.3 per cent of the total.

Asylum seekers and refugees only make up 15 per cent of the overall number (including the Homes for Ukraine scheme), with those claiming asylum from the small boats only 5 per cent.

The small boats: don’t get distracted

Perhaps the main reason for the small boats featuring so prominently in the immigration narrative is the compelling nature of the images the news media can use. Include criminal gangs and the jeopardy of life and death and the result is a heady mix.

But here’s the thing, the Migration Observatory report that:

“Between 2018 and 2024, the asylum grant rate for people who arrived by small boat was 68%.”

Allow that to sink in for a moment: almost seven out of ten of those who arrive by small boat have a legitimate reason to seek asylum in the UK. The real villains here are the criminal gangs, not the passengers they transport.

Things could look very different if there were safe pathways for these asylum seekers to follow. On these figures the bottom would be blown out of the business model of the criminal gangs that operate the small boats, and they would swiftly move on. Especially if accompanied with the speedy removal of those who have no right to remain in the UK. This would act as a significant disincentive to those who would have previously made an unsuccessful attempt.

This has to be the way to tackle the presenting problem of the small boats, especially when the ‘push and pull’ influences are given proper consideration.

‘Push’ and ‘pull’: don’t be misled

‘Push’ issues are those that cause the migrants to leave their home. Iran, Iraq and Afghanistan have consistently been the most common sources for asylum seekers over the last 30 years. and this tells its own story. Together they underscore that the key ‘push’ factor is people seeking to escape persecution, conflict or danger.

‘Pull’ influences are why a particular country is the preferred destination. Extensive research has established in the case of the UK the ability to speak English, the presence of family already here and the “general impression that the UK is a good place to live" are far and away the strongest influences. Disproving the popularly advocated myth that it is about the black economy or sponging off the benefits system.

The right to work: don’t be fooled

The total cost of the asylum system in the UK was an eye-watering £5.4b in 2023-24, a figure that is largely driven by a backlog in processing applications. On average this took 413 days in 2023-24 with the year-end backlog standing at 91,000. For the 38,000 of those awaiting a response in hotel accommodation, this comes at a cost of £41,000 per person, per year.

Thankfully the number awaiting a decision is decreasing, but because asylum seekers are not allowed to work until they’ve been waiting for over a year, they cannot contribute to their own support. In France they are allowed to work after six months and in Italy after only 60 days.

It is, perhaps, a sobering thought that those who have shown the initiative, resilience and tenacity to attempt a passage to a new life, not even deterred by the threat of death, might be the kind of asset to the country and its economy that we need.

The world we live in: don’t close your eyes

We cannot uninvent the fact that we live in a globalised world. The preponderance of international supply chains and the fact that 54 per cent of Brits travel abroad on holiday only underlines how ingrained it is in our everyday lives. We are all interconnected to a degree that we cannot possibly comprehend.According to the World Health Organisation, the origin of COVID-19 in Wuhan, China in December 2019 led to between 8-9 million deaths worldwide; the container ship Ever Given, stuck in the Suez Canal in March 2021 cost the global economy $9.6 billion per day; and the Russian invasion of Ukraine in 2022 had a catastrophic effect on grain and fertilizer prices in sub-Saharan Africa.

All that to one side, migration to these shores has been part and parcel of our history since before we had a history. From the Romans, Anglo-Saxons, Vikings and Normans, to more recent arrivals from the Caribbean, South Asia, Poland and Hong Kong this is an integral and ongoing part of the story of the British Isles. It is what has made us British.

The politics of migration: don’t be seduced

In these febrile political times, many will be quick to jump on the bandwagon of blaming the immigrants for everything that is wrong. The narrative is a seductive one that makes a visceral connection with listeners. Where the substance of argument is missing emotive language will do the heavy lifting on its own, so look out for speech like this:

Crisis or emergency language: out-of-control, unprecedented, overwhelmed
Metaphors of flooding or invasion: tidal, swamped, relentless
Threatening or dangerous terms: illegal, criminal, extremist
Dehumanising or reductive language: waves, swarms, hordes
Economic or social burden framing: unsustainable, overstretched (services), job-stealing
Warnings of loss: losing our culture and traditions, no-go areas

It’s the sociologist Zygmunt Bauman, commenting on life in the city, who coined the terms ‘mixophobia’ and ‘mixophilia’ to describe some of the dynamics he observed. But I think they can extend to the whole of society, not just our cities. Indeed, with Bauman I think we can even experience both feelings within ourselves at the same. We experience the fear of ‘mixophobia’ – of being involved with strangers – in our

“… reaction to the mind-boggling, spine-chilling and nerve-breaking variety of human types and lifestyles that [we] meet and rub elbows and shoulders [with] in the streets”

“Mixophilia”, by contrast, is the joy of being in a different and stimulating environment.

“The same kaleidoscope-like twinkle and glimmer of the urban scenery, … never short of novelty and surprise, [that] constitutes its difficult-to-resist charm and seductive power.”

Born a Polish Jew in 1925, Bauman’s family fled to Russia in 1939. As Professor of Sociology at the University of Leeds t He maintained that the holocaust was not the breakdown of modern civilisation, but rather the product of it.

Twenty years ago, he predicted that Europe would be faced with a battle between “two contending facts of the matter”. On one side would be the life-saving role played by immigrants in a fast-aging Europe. On the other, “the power-abetted and power-assisted rise in xenophobic sentiments eagerly recycled into electoral votes”.

For Bauman “mixophobic paranoia” feeds upon itself and acts as a self-fulfilling prophecy. It may temporarily reduce the pain that those afflicted by it feel, but ultimately only makes the condition worse. Rather, “mixophobia” is the symptom of their anxiety, not the cause – acting on it is like “removing the rash while mistaking it for the cure of the illness”.

If there is to be any hope for him, it is in the cohabitation and interaction with strangers that the future lies.

So, there it is. As shocking and disturbing as the stories and images of the small boats are, it is not really about the small boats. Sitting beneath the phenomena is the age-old issue of migration, with the sharp and divisive edges of its present-day expression.

In the late 1990s I was proud of the churches in Croydon rallying together to establish the Refugee Day Centre. In the years that followed it was often groups of churches who took the lead in their own towns and cities as asylum seekers were dispersed around the country.

It was a practical way to “love our neighbour as ourselves”. In the rallying cry of the Victorian Christian social reformers, “The Fatherhood of God means the brotherhood of man.”

As the historian Tom Holland has observed it is because Western values are deeply rooted in the Christian tradition that human dignity and the sanctity of life are deeply prized virtues that animate our best intentions and our understanding of what is good.

In his mid-80s, Bauman wrote:

“For more than forty years of my life in Leeds I have watched from my window as children returned home from the nearby secondary school. Children seldom walk alone; they prefer walking in groups of friends. That habit has not changed. And yet what I see from my window has changed over the years. Forty years ago, almost every group was ‘single colour’; nowadays, almost none of them are …”

Review

Culture

Film & TV

Identity

Music

20 November 2025

6 min read

Life is complicated, and Alan Bennett know it

Beneath The Choral’s cosy nostalgia lie some discordant truths

Roger Standing

Roger is a theologian and author with a particular interest in the relationship between faith and culture.

Ralph Fiennes conducts.

Sony Pictures.

There is something wonderfully disconcerting about the movie, The Choral. On the face of it, it’s a feel-good tale in the light-hearted British comedy-drama tradition. Set in the fictional Yorkshire town of Ramsden during the First World War, the local choral society put on their annual production. Confronted by a succession of challenges and setbacks they persevere and accomplish their goal.

With Ramsden beautifully conceived and filmed in the model village of Saltaire, it is evocative of its time and place. Scripted by national treasure Alan Bennett, now aged 91, it is shot through with his well-observed wit, penchant for understatement and gentle melancholy. This is a heady mix.

That the film is directed by BAFTA, Olivier and Tony Award winner Nicholas Hytner, a longtime collaborator with Bennett (The Madness of King George, The History Boys and The Lady in the Van) and includes Ralph Fiennes, Roger Allum and Alun Armstrong among its cast only underlines the dramatic quality of the ensemble.

So, all things considered, you’d expect this to be a heart-warming foray into the cosy nostalgia of the familiar. The fact that it is also the first original screenplay from Bennett in 40 years, with Elgar’s The Dream of Gerontius as its musical heart, would also seem to guarantee universal critical acclaim. Wrong on both counts.

From the outset, something doesn’t seem to be quite right. It’s a little off. The progression of a young postboy and his mate around the town on their bikes, delivering telegrams to young, widowed women is heartbreakingly poignant. But Ellis, the postboy Lofty’s mate, disturbs the pathos of the moment by cheerily embracing the possibility of romance, “Grief, it’s an opportunity!”

Of course, the backdrop of the film is the war. The war has robbed the Choral Society of its choirmaster and its male members. Then, having recruited young men in their place, the prospect of conscription on their eighteenth birthdays is inescapable and inexorably drawing closer. We know what’s coming and a shroud is cast over their endeavours.

The war also throws up issues of patriotism and the demonisation of everything German. Even Battenberg cake is frowned upon.

The newly recruited choirmaster, Dr Guthrie played by Fiennes, is also held in suspicion as he had previously lived in Germany by choice. For him it was a nation of high culture, philosophy and civilised society.

At one point he recites

“A man should hear a little music every day of his life so worldly cares may not obliterate the beautiful in the human soul.”

Revealing he is quoting “Johann Wolfgang von Goethe” he is abruptly rebuked, “For God’s sake man, lower your voice.” So it is that the Society abandons its customary performance of Bach’s St Matthew Passion for the Elgar, with Bach “being a Hun!”

Guthrie is also suspect in the minds of some because “he is not a family man”. Behind the euphemism lay a relationship in Germany, cut short by the beginning of the war and the German joining the Imperial Navy.

When the choir learn from a newspaper report of “829 Germans killed at sea” they break out into a spontaneous and raucous singing of “God save the King”. Knowing the ship, Guthrie is left in private, unshared grief. For the audience, the nationalistic enthusiasm rings empty, hollow and jarring.

People’s lives are complicated, what drives and motivates them remains largely unknown and the consequences frequently unanticipated. Bennett pulls back the curtains a little bit to give us a peak. Things are not straightforward. Issues are not as black and white as we tell ourselves. Our impressions and the stereotypes that inform them do not stand scrutiny.

There’s the mill owner, Alderman Duxbury (Roger Allam), who funds “the Choral”, chairs the committee and expects a leading role is the epitome of privilege. Yet he has lost a son to the war and is deeply grieving himself, unsupported by his wife who is paralysed by her grief and emotionally frozen.

Then, as the film progresses, Clyde returns from the front after being ‘missing in action’ and having lost his arm. However, he discovers that his fiancé, Bella, had ultimately been unable to wait for him and has taken up with Ellis.

Processing his trauma and negotiating the loss of Bella, to his shame he manipulates her for a sexual favour. Hero and villain, pain and pleasure, light and dark all laid bare within the beauty of the Yorkshire landscape and Elgar’s transcendent music. A gifted tenor, Guthrie casts Clyde in the leading role while Bella and Ellis take their places in the chorus.

Complicated!

Other characters are interlaced into the tale with their own backstory. Salvation Army singer, Mary, has an angelic voice and takes the female lead. A committed Christian she resists romantic advances, while Horner, the Societies’ accompanist wrestles with the whole idea of war and the love that dare not speak its name. When the sensitive musician is robustly led away to prison by the military another discordant note is played in the audience’s mind.

Then there are cameos by a pompous and self-important Elgar, the thoughtful and compassionate Mrs Bridge, a woman of ill-repute, and the local vicar, who is more concerned about the Roman Catholic theology contained in John Henry Newman’s religious poem, The Dream of Gerontius upon which Elgar based his oratorio.

“Purgatory …” says Clyde, “… I could take you there tomorrow!”

The closing thought is Newman’s, not as the Society performs, but as the lads, now 18 and in uniform, wave to their friends as their train leaves the station. The oratorio scores the scene with the Angel’s farewell:

“Softly and gently, dearly ransomed soul, In my most loving arms I now enfold thee.”

While the film has been received warmly by some, not everyone is convinced. Rachel LaBonte is clear that the narrative is:

“… suffocated by the sheer number of characters at play, and the odd disconnect between their individual arcs.”

And Guy Lodge in Variety observes:

“Bennett’s script flits inconsistently between generations, foregrounding certain perspectives before they suddenly recede …”

But actually, this is the genius of Bennett’s script. This is what life is like. Every day we bump into loads of people, each one living their own life, with their own issues and their own back story. And you can be sure there is an ‘odd disconnect’ between our lives no matter how much we have in common.

And life does ‘flit inconsistently’ between triviality and seriousness, between the interests of the young or the old, between what matters, what’s a priority and what’s a diversion.

While the substance of the town of Ramsden, the elevating art of the Choral Society and horror of the war frame the story, what it’s about is the people. A diverse, complex set of individuals who inhabit a particular place and a particular time. They share the space, but each have their own lives to navigate and each of their lives is complicated. And the number of characters and the flitting about is precisely how Bennett makes his point.

It was a first world war British Chaplain who advised the men at an army camp in Zeitoun, Egypt to be careful about judging those around them:

“There is always one fact more in every man’s case about which we know nothing.”

If we only knew what baggage people are carrying, what they’re wrestling with and what they’re keeping to themselves we would see them in a different light. We might even, perhaps, treat them more kindly.

Life is complicated. We are complicated. In these febrile times it would be good to remember that and cut each other some slack.

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