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Migration

Politics

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 Baptist minister, author and Senior Research Fellow at Spurgeon’s College in London.

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 …”

Article

Attention

Change

Community

Loneliness

3 April 2025

6 min read

Take some risks, invest in your friends

At the other side of risk is a precious thing: the overcoming of distance.

Tom Dove

Tom has a PhD in Theology and works as a hospital physician.

Three friends in the street laugh together.

Jed Villejo on Unsplash.

In the year 2000, political scientist Robert D. Putnam published Bowling Alone. Putnam analysed the decline of “social capital” in America, observing that relational networks, community involvement, and civic engagement were all waning. Why “bowling”? Well, for Putnam, the decline of involvement in bowling leagues was representative of his findings. It served as a microcosm of a bigger picture—the broad downtrend in social engagement.

What of “social capital” in 2025? Everything, it appears, is different. The arrival of the online ecosphere has reframed how “social” is best understood. We are more “connected” than ever. Indeed, the proportion of society attached to a virtual social network, I suspect, outstrips the proportion of society involved in bowling (or other) leagues at their peak. And even in the short history of the world wide web, the nature of social engagement has developed at breakneck speed. A once revolutionary platform for connecting with past pals from school (remember “Friends Reunited”?) now seems prehistoric. We can “connect” in ways that no bowling league could ever have manufactured. Today, the array of relational possibilities is endless. Awaiting your acquaintance are inert artificial friends, with whom—we’re assured—“You can form an actual emotional connection.” Yes, the Replika app offers virtual companions “for anyone who wants a friend with no judgment, drama, or social anxiety involved.”

What counts as “social” has expanded beyond measure since the year 2000. No doubt Putnam’s book would look different were it released today. But has the tide of social engagement really turned?

The bond of friendship is precious. And, like many precious things, it is hard-won.

Does today’s social mindset encourage us to pursue relationships marked by depth, confidence, nearness? The digital realm makes it extremely difficult not to treat connection as a commodity, more a product in the marketplace of life than a good to be pursued for its own worth. It generates a fantasy of risk-free relationships. “If a friendship isn’t working out, leave it; there’s always another one available”—one without “drama”, as the wisdom of Replika would have it. The measure of a good relationship here is not the strength of the bond itself. Such ties are a means to another end. Perhaps how well the relationship serves individual interests or meets personal preferences. And if we swallow this kind of “you do you” pill whole, we shouldn’t be surprised if our basic assumption is that people do not belong together but apart.

When friendship becomes a commodity, enduring friendship is nothing short of a miracle. We are all too changeable for consumer relationships to last. Our preferences change. Our life-stages change. Once upon a time, lasting non-romantic bonds were perhaps a more given feature of life. When lifelong relationships and local community overlapped far more, the troughs of friendships were less easy to avoid but had to be faced. It wasn’t so easy to dodge “drama” and move on. But if today’s online social realm shapes our expectations of relationships, the long road of friendship becomes—unsurprisingly—uninviting. Seemingly viable alternatives to our present friends are always available. Indeed, if the “you do you” mantra holds, friendship most likely will not. Or at least not of the precious kind.

Recently, Sheridan Voysey launched the Friendship Lab. Its aim? To make friendships thrive. Voysey, an author and broadcaster, has developed this new resource alongside a team that includes academics in psychology, law, and statistics. The Lab offers both live and on-demand courses to equip individuals and friends with wisdom and skills for fostering reciprocity and deepening connection. The Friendship Lab is Voysey’s answer to a question he asked himself: "Who can you call at 2am when everything has gone wrong?" Hence, its mission: “to see every adult have at least three 2am friends.”

The Friendship Lab is on to something important. I suspect that something is, at least in part, that friendships require perseverance.

In friendship, it takes time to be understood and to understand. We are all so remarkably complex. Our pasts are so multifaceted. There is no straightforward access to another person. No algorithm can achieve it. No personality test can name it. The deep roots of a relationship are established in attention and commitment. They are reinformed through loyalty and perseverance. The resources provided by the Lab point to the fact that friendships form over time. Like a muscle strengthened through repeated use, they are shaped by practices. Developing connection is more like slowly sculpting clay than sharing in a series of transactions.

At the other side of risk is a precious thing: the overcoming of distance. That precious feeling of being at ease. Unguarded and unafraid

This leads to something important: on its own, perseverance is not enough. Something else should be named if friendships are to thrive and last. And it is less common: risk.

The bond of friendship always involves risk. Friendship is hard-won because it is risky. To let one’s guard down is a step into the unknown, a “drama” that can never be neatly calculated, because we can never know the outcome. And it is a particular kind of risk: the risk of making oneself vulnerable. Of exposing our hopes and fears, our wounds and weaknesses. Or facing these in others. And of course, we are all so aware of what can go wrong. Sometimes putting yourself out there results not in depth but in misunderstanding or, perhaps, rejection. And to be rejected in one’s vulnerability can be humiliating, even devastating.

But the bond of friendship is established in these daring footsteps of risk. Friendship does not take shape by side-stepping risk but by taking the road through it—a road not free from but marked by missteps and disappointments.

Yet such steps are not an end in themselves. They lead to a place that addresses a deeper longing—the ache for connection. At the other side of risk is a precious thing: the overcoming of distance. That precious feeling of being at ease. Unguarded and unafraid. The knowledge that you’re in safe hands.

In an age where seemingly risk-free alternative connections are available, who would dare to take these steps? Some ancient wisdom might be needed here most of all.

Around 30AD, a man called Jesus of Nazareth walked the road to hard-won friendship like no other. One of his followers described Jesus’ life as one of commitment to his companions “to the end.” Whilst Jesus’ profound teaching and demonstration of love often gets plenty of attention, there is something precious to be mined here.

Risk and perseverance belonged to Jesus’ life. The risk of misunderstanding and of rejection—both of which he experienced at the hands of those closest to him. He was not immune to these. In fact, what it meant for Jesus to persevere in his commitment to his followers was for him to endure their abandonment of him. They modelled the opposite of friendship. But Jesus’ risk-taking perseverance knew no limit. It led him all the way to death. It persevered through the failure of his friends to reciprocate to the end. This is why it is just so startling that, in rising from the dead, Jesus says to his followers: “no longer do I call you servants… I have called you my friends.”

If Jesus has walked the ultimate road of befriending us human beings “to the end”, could looking to this source unlock friendship in a new way today?

There is a woman in the church community I’m part of who was once asked: “why are you part of this church?” Her answer: “I decided to come here.” She is in her eighties and has been part of that community for decades. I envy the simple sense of risk-taking perseverance in her approach. She is not side-stepping the “drama”—the inevitable missteps that belong to life with others. I do not belong to a generation or an age that puts a premium on risk-taking perseverance “to the end” in friendships. But another look at ancient wisdom might give us just the freedom to do so. And if the road to deep connection goes via some kind of “judgement, drama, or social anxiety” then I, for one, am all in.

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