Thaddeus commented on his post regarding Dizaei -Â “Iâm not sure how to say this without provoking a storm of comments about my innate racism” – which made me stop and wonder exactly when it was that we became scared to say anything that might remotely give offence to anyone regarding any person who might be marginally less white middle class christian than, say, your average British citizen.
I would say that it roughly approximated to when the Labour government decided to tinker with the ground rules in order to bring around 5.4 million people from different cultures to live in our midst.Â The British people didn’t make that decision, the Labour government did. Why is the big question.
Labour came into being as the party of the underdog. The ‘unions’ politicised to protect you from the loathsome, mendacious capitalists. There was a point to their existence. Unfortunately for them, although they made some remarkable changes to our society, the welfare state being their most obvious achievement, they had only managed to protect their working class electorate by forcing changes that merely made them better off underdogs.
It was Margaret Thatcher who gave people the opportunity to stop being underdogs altogether. You no longer had to be dependent on being a union member in order to have a job, you could step onto the burgeoning housing ladder even if a council tenant. You had a choice.
Some people didn’t want that choice. They demanded that jobs be brought to their doorstep, rather than leave home in search of work. They demanded that jobs within their existing skill set be provided rather than retraining for a new career.
When Labour came to power in 1997 they faced a double edged problem. Not only had many of their voters ceased to think of themselves as ‘working-class’ underdogs, those who remained could only be put back to work by delivering jobs hacking coal underground to their doorstep – something that not even Labour could provide – and they were not about to go picking daffodils in Cornwall.
Rather than tackle the intransigence of those who refused to change – pace the Royal Mail workers – Labour effectively bussed in millions of scab workers. From countries where the opportunity to pick daffodils in Cornwall, or Turnips in Norfolk,Â seemed heaven sent.
At the same time, Labour were determined to create a new set of underdogs who would be beholden to them. One of their first acts in office was to enshrine the Human Rights Act. The Act created a potential villain out of every government department or agent of the state. It set the scene for ‘victimology’ to run rampant across the country, from gay prisoners who had not had the desired quantity of gay pornography delivered to their cell door to a kaleidoscope of individuals who managed to leap frog the rest of Europe and arrive in Londistan claiming that their ‘uman rights had been irretrievably compromised by the mere suggestion that they might not be entitled to a Westminster town house, several hundred pounds a week pocket money, support for their four wives, and a plasma TV to watch in between waging Jihad on the infidel western governments.
Naturally it was foreseen that there might be a few objections to this distribution of bounty to the recently arrived underdogs, and so it was decreed by the Nu-Labour legislators, taking advantage of their huge majority, that any hint of criticism of either their behaviour or the behaviour of officialdom towards them could only be because of prejudice against the colour of the overwhelming majority of them.
People like Ali Dizaei quickly latched onto this theme. He spent years writing a PhD describing how senior officers in the Metropolitan police were institutionally racist. They didn’t investigate the murder of Stephen Lawrence properly, not because they were inept, or underpaid, or underfunded, or incompetent, or even just unlucky in not getting the breaks required to make an arrest – Lawrence was hardly the first unsolved murderÂ – but now it was categorically stated that their was no resolution to the case because the same policemen who for years had been operating in areas like Brixton and successfully solving crimes, had taken one look at Stephen body lying on the ground and virtually chorused ‘ah, he’s black, can’t be bothered, let’s go for a pint’.
Dizaei was lucky, right place at the right time. Blair, the Prime Minister, and Blair of the met, needed a poster boy, preferably black himself – finding one who also had a track record of seeing everything in terms of racial discrimination was a bonus. One can only guess what senior police, who had spent years working their way up through the ranks, investigating crime in Brixton, Nottinghill Gate, Peckham, to say nothing of Broadwater Farm, must have made of serving under a ‘blow in’ who declared them all to be vicious racists. The Black Police Officers Association was set upÂ – thus proving that it was possible to be racist under the new regime, it just had to be targeted in the right direction.
Night after night the TV was filled with stories of the ‘heroic’ Lawrences, apparently the only parents in the land who had ever lost a son to violent crime. Their every nuance was examined, their every utterance reported. When eventually their marriage broke up, the ‘female’ pages of the papers were full of analysis of how no marriage could possibly survive the pressures of this unsolved murder. Actually, many marriages, all across the land, had survived the unsold murder of a son or daughter. What was never mentioned was that none of those unfortunate couples had also had to survive being the poster parents for an entire campaign to rebut any criticism of an immigration policy that was scandalously contrived to meet the governments ‘wider social aims‘ of creating a new dependant class of victim that would cleave to the protection of a Labour party which had run out of ‘oppressed’ voters. How many Labour seats are dependant on Asian votes?
I don’t believe that the Labour party had any wish to see a ‘multi-cultural’ Britain, nor to ‘rub the Right’s nose in diversity’ any more than I believe that the average Britain is prejudiced against immigrants on the grounds of their colour.They simply wanted victims, according to the Electoral Commission, these newly created victims voted Labour by ‘overwhelming margins’ in 2005.
There is a marked disparity amongst immigrants -Â in a study of the British workforce by country of birth, 2005-06, the Institute for Public Policy Research found that, while 71 per cent of Indian immigrants are employed, only eight per cent live in social housing. By contrast, just 19 per cent of Somalis are in work, but 80 per cent of them are in social housing. Colour, however, became a handy way of recognising those who were likely to be the recipients of a cynical exercise in creating a a self perpetuating class of Labour voter; and yes, those perceived as being of a class of people who were given unfair advantage in society are disliked.
They only have the Labour government to thank for that – not the British people.
42% of a recent poll said they would emigrate ‘if I could’.Â Little wonder – in 2008, half of all births in London were to foreign born mothers. One of the traditional reasons that the English have stayed at home is fear of the foreign, of foreign food, doctors that didn’t speak your language, perhaps damaging the children’s education by putting them into schools where they would be disadvantaged by not speaking the language, wanting to stay with the ‘familiar’, the sights and sounds they grew up with.
Labour have succeeded in turning ‘home’ into a foreign land. TheyÂ may belatedly wake up to find that their original voters have decided that if they are going to do ‘foreign’ they might as well do it where the sun shines all day.
I have been fascinated to watch the change in the demographics of the English population in the Dordogne. Once it was, whisper it softly, a rather snobby land of retired Colonels, now it is taking on a distinctly egalitarian air as more and more people that might once have been drawn to the Labour party up sticks and leave Britain.Â It’s beginning to feel just like ‘home’.