I’ve lived in the UK most of my life. Paid taxes. Learned how to queue without complaint. I’ve even mastered the uniquely British art of apologising when someone else bumps into me.
So when the government unveiled its new immigration white paper, I knew what was coming: more bureaucracy, more rules, and more polite ways of saying, “We’d prefer if you didn’t stay for tea.”
At first glance, it sounds harmless enough—full of friendly terms like “streamlining” and “rebalancing.” But dig deeper and you’ll find the truth: it’s just more ways to make life harder, more expensive, and far less welcoming for people like me.
Take skilled worker visas. To qualify now, you need a university degree. Not years of experience, not proof that you can do the job—just the paperwork showing you’ve forked out £27,000 to sit in lecture halls. Entire sectors—construction, hospitality, care—are crying out for help, and we’ve just told them: not unless you’ve got a degree.
And the fees? Don’t get me started. Over £5,000 for a five-year visa—and that’s before you even count the NHS surcharge, which feels like paying for a gym membership you can’t use unless you’re already fit. This isn’t immigration policy. It’s a cover charge to enter a country that desperately needs the very people it’s pricing out.
Then there’s deportation. It used to be, “Don’t break the law.” Now it’s, “Don’t breathe wrong.” A small mistake—a missed form, an expired document, a minor offence—and suddenly your future here is on thin ice. And appealing? Good luck. Human rights have apparently been downgraded to optional extras.
International students aren’t safe either. We’ll happily take their tuition fees to prop up universities, but the second they graduate? The clock starts ticking. Want to bring your family? Good luck. Settle down? Dream on. It’s like being invited to dinner, asked to bring dessert, and then told to leave before pudding.
And just to top it all off: the plan to phase out overseas recruitment in social care by 2028. Because, of course, there’s a line of British workers just waiting to take low-paid, high-stress care jobs. My mother spent her final years being cared for by brilliant carers—many of whom were immigrants. Without them, the social care would’ve collapsed. But sure, let’s kick them out and see how that works out.
This isn’t reform. It’s performance. A government playing tough for the headlines while quietly pulling the rug out from under its own workforce.
The saddest part? It’s completely out of touch. The UK doesn’t just benefit from migrants. It depends on them. Always has. Not just the doctors and engineers—but the bus drivers, delivery drivers, hospital cleaners, carers, and kitchen staff. These aren’t just workers. They’re neighbours, friends, family. And right now, they’re being told they’re no longer welcome.
Dress it up however you like, but this white paper isn’t about fixing the system. It’s about building a wall—one red-taped brick at a time.
I’ve lived here. I’ve contributed. I belong. And so do thousands of others. We’re not just paperwork. We’re part of this place—whether the government likes it or not.
