Reflections on Albion
Though much is taken, much abides; and though
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven; that which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson
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The high point of Daniel Craig’s portrait of James Bond over five movies is undoubtedly the moment in Skyfall where Bond runs through London to rescue M, portrayed by Judi Dench, as she finishes her testimony in front of a select committee—assembled to put her and her agency out to pasture—with the closing passage of Tennyson’s Ulysses. The duality of meaning embedded in this sequence is profound. In the movie itself, the depiction of the ageing and wounded, but still capable, hero encapsulates the narrative arc of James Bond, who in Skyfall has almost literally come back from the dead to save his country. In a wider context, Tennyson’s closing lines can be seen as the saplings of a post-empire English identity, in which erstwhile grandeur and power have been replaced with grit, determination, and pride—and more distantly, with common sense, decency, and respect.
As I get ready to take my oath as a British citizen, I like to believe that the spirit of Tennyson’s Ulysses is one that I am being graciously invited to embody. As I look at the nation and polity that I will soon be part of, however, I see but a pale and fading version of the country that ought to be. Britain has turned into a cautionary tale of how excellent and enviable initial conditions and fundamentals can, over time, be eroded and squandered by bad policy choices. This invites comparison with many other Western countries—particularly in Europe—where the political centre has disappeared into the wilderness, ceding the initiative to fanciful factions on the left and right alike, whose joust for power makes for increasingly violent swings in the political pendulum. Brexit, a disastrous and floundering immigration policy, and a broken economy with broken incentives are but some of the snapshots of a steady slide into one bad equilibrium after another. Well-meaning centrists remark that this is mainly a legacy left by the Tories. But in pushing this point, they neatly neglect the speed with which Labour’s otherwise historic mandate has crumbled into indecision and paralysis, leaking support to both right and left extremes on the political spectrum. And when the chips were down, what did Sir Keir Starmer pull out of the bag? Digital ID cards!
Brexit was the first warning shot across the bow. Out of this decision grew a political cancer that is threatening to consume the English political economy. With Brexit, and in subsequent national elections, the people of Britain have consistently voted for less immigration and for firmer control over the country’s borders. They have received the opposite, and have even had to suffer being called racist for their views. There is a high cost to be paid for the inability of the political centre and establishment—the proverbial adults in the room—to grasp the nettle of creating a sound immigration policy in the 21st century. This cost is borne by allowing the fringes to formulate policy and ideas. The debate on immigration in the UK is now split between two impossible ideals: a left-wing version in which not offering free housing, allowance, healthcare, and education to anyone stepping onto the beach in Kent is cruel and racist; and a right-wing version in which the deportation of large swathes of population groups—some of whom have UK visas and residency permits—is now seen as the only way to restore sanctity and order to the land. Both are unworkable. Both are an insult to the British people.
The irony—or even hypocrisy—of discussing this as an EU migrant who initially came to the UK exercising his EU freedom of movement is not lost on me. But I hold my head high. I came as a student 15 years ago, got my National Insurance number the day my course ended, and I have been working ever since. I am married to a naturalised British woman of Canadian descent, who has been in the country for more than 20 years, working as a doctor for the NHS. I believe the vast majority of Brits accept, and even welcome, this journey, a journey, by the way, through a complicated and costly Home Office bureaucracy. We’ve played by the rules, because that’s what you do, isn’t it?
What the people of the UK don’t accept, meanwhile, is the kind of immigration experienced over the past five years, which, through its scale and cultural makeup, has exerted enormous cultural and economic pressure on many local communities. And rightly so. This is now culminating in the final insult of the boats purportedly carrying asylum seekers who have no choice but to present themselves to the UK. Everyone knows that the majority of these people take the trip from France to the White Cliffs of Dover for reasons of economic opportunism. They know that the people of England know—just as they know that the same people, and their government, can’t do anything about it as long as they’re bound by human rights conventions. And yet, anyone with the temerity to issue a complaint faces accusations of being racist or fascist, a trick still being deployed, primarily by the left and centre-left, to silence dissent.
In the economy, meanwhile, low-income work is increasingly unprofitable relative to rolling the dice in the benefit system. Middle-income workers face navigating a warped tax system that incentivises them to make absolutely sure their income does not rise past some arbitrary threshold lest they lose childcare benefits or tax-free allowance. And in the higher income and wealth brackets, people might reasonably conclude that they’re lambs to the fiscal slaughter, and that they should adjust their behaviour—and country of residence—accordingly. This could reasonably describe tax systems in many Western European countries, but the distortions in the UK have a distinct hue of failure and despondency. Every constituent in the English income distribution is currently concerned primarily with how to field enough political or lobbying pressure to protect what they have, rather than climbing up said income distribution through ambition and achievement. And politicians, being who they are, are responding to the incentives accordingly. The UK is sleepwalking into continental European levels of taxation, with nowhere near the level and breadth of public service to show for it. And as Chancellor Rachel Reeves readies yet another sobering budget, she still finds herself in a position where she is unable to pull any of the levers that might reasonably allow a fresh look—and a fresh start—because of promises made in the election manifesto.
It would be arrogant to be ungrateful for the opportunity and honour that I am about to be bestowed. Rest assured that I am not. As I profess allegiance to King Charles, I will become a dual UK–Danish citizen. And while Denmark, with its pickled herring, hygge, and dimly lit summer nights, will always be my one true home, the UK has already left a mark that I will carry with me to the end. And it is a good mark. I have lived in Hull, London, and Newcastle, and have travelled far and wide on this island—enough to see it for what it is. A proud and strong country with opportunities for those who seek them, and tolerance and respect for those who make even a superficial effort to blend in. We must never forget or relinquish such virtues, while at the same time we stand up for the culture and heritage that flows through our nation. This is not, contrary to increasingly popular belief, an impossible balance, but the bare minimum that we must aspire to. After all: that which we are, we are, and it is exactly that we must be.