I didn’t start this blog to write about politics, but I don’t feel like I have much choice. Not today. It is a contentious step; one I take foolishly. Some people cannot look at a fire and not stick their hand in.
Full disclosure: I am a left leaning libertarian, with what could be described as right-wing economic views. I am not a fan of authoritarianism. Based on that description, do not assume you can predict my position on a given topic; you cannot. I have principles, not fixed views: accordingly, I am seen by many of those around me as difficult or deliberately contrary. I am frequently described as fickle.
Full disclosure: I am an incredibly angry person, but that does not mean that I hate. The two are too often conflated; just because I am shouting does not mean I hate you, it means that I need to raise my voice to get over the din. Just because I am angry does not mean I am angry at you. Grow up.
Full disclosure: I support immigration to a degree which most people I know would find very scary indeed. I do not believe in borders; I would happily welcome all comers to this land. I do not believe that everyone who wants to come to this country wants to rape our families, scrounge our benefits and change our laws. I know that some do, but the vast majority do not. They come here to work.
The people I want in this country are people who want to put the effort in: hard working people.
I have had conversations with many people over the years – members of my family, former friends, some guy I got talking to at the bar – where I have been told, in all seriousness, that they no longer recognise this country. I wonder if they’d be so shocked at the differences in the world around them if they jumped in the Tardis and visited the 16th century. The world we live in is in a permanent state of flux: it is always changing; never standing still. They are alienated by their own wishful nostalgia.
When pushed, these people tell me that the reason they feel so alienated from this country is that there are so few white faces everywhere they go. I don’t understand. They can tell I don’t get what they mean, so they begin to justify their views to questions, accusations and assertions I have not made. I have not called them racists, but they’re telling me that they’re not; I have not mentioned multiculturalism, but they are asserting to me that it has failed; I have not praised Islam, but they are telling me that it is a violent religion, one of terror, and evil, and hate. I have barely spoken.
They should go to London; there’s a reason it’s so successful. If I ever don’t recognise this country it is because there are too few people who are willing to put the effort in; too many who expect to be given everything on a plate. The entitled exist at all economic levels; their influence is corrupting.
Government after government tell us that there are families in which generations have never ever worked. The standard joke: yes, the Royal Family. We assume work avoidance only exists amongst the poor: we ignore the influence of such entitlement from scripted reality TV. Well, we try to. Sadly, when politicians speak, many of us switch off; we ignore whether there is any tangible truth to it.
I live in the North East of England; I almost always have. I grew up in a relatively poor, moderately sized town, where the last great industry – fishing in this case – had all but dried up by the time I came along, in the 1980s. Memories of affluence linger deep in the minds of hard working men who look at their listless, entitled, consumer children, and wish hard for a return to full employment.
Benefits became as hereditary in many families as hair colour, the propensity to drink and opinions on how we ended up in this predicament. Fingers were pointed at supposed culprits, opinions were given as fact, and the whole package was learned by rote, handed down to the next generation. It was never questioned; it was simply swallowed, ready to be regurgitated wholesale whenever the need arose. “I can’t work, because I would earn less than benefits; if there were still real jobs…”
The situation is wholly different for people who cannot work. That is rarely a choice. When a choice is made to abrogate responsibility it represents a failure of the citizen, not a failure of the body.
There are still real jobs, but British people, apparently, do not want them: Pret a Manger claimed in recent weeks that only 1 in 50 applicants for their jobs are British. Is it now the case that people are unwilling to work in the poorly paid, poorly treated, poorly respected service industry? It would seem that what was once an apprenticeship for people of all backgrounds is now deemed unworthy.
This refusal to condescend to work which is deemed “beneath”, or to start working at a wage which will not sustain an extravagant lifestyle is leading, not to a working class, but to a non-working class. This is the baseline in our society now; this is the foundation of normality and the beating, blackened heart of our cultural identity. These are the real opinion formers, the true trend setters: they form the backbone of common consensus and the basis of received wisdom. They are the reasons shops stock what they stock and TV channels show what they show: they are consumers and nothing else.
Businesses do what they do in order to generate profit. If there is a large group of people, rich and poor, who do nothing but consume, businesses will target their activities towards them, their habits, their tastes. In essence, Made in Chelsea is why we have an American food section in Sainsburys.
To that end, I want to deport each and every workshy scum bag, born in this country, regardless of wealth or family or influence. I want to dump them in a dismal, forgotten backwater with nothing but a well and a selection of antiquated farming implements. If they are not willing to contribute to civil society, they can build their own from scratch. Better that than being allowed to ruin this edifice we have spent generations working for. They are the wreckers, and they destroy for one reason: fun.
Let them build their own non-working utopia while the rest of us get on with building a glorious future for our families. Our classrooms will suddenly empty of the disrupting influence of children who know that their future will not involve work, and so need not learn how to behave like human beings. Our streets will be free of the litter thrown by people with no idea that they are exactly as responsible for the upkeep of our environment as the local authority. Our suburbs and estates will be safe places in which families can blossom, rather than havens for crime and drug addiction.
The corrosive influence of people unwilling to be part of civil society needs to be removed at once. Only then can we talk about whether there are too many foreign people coming in to this country.