Guts to say no before it’s too late

Why such a panic about a mere 430 boat people?  Given the scale of the problem, was it not absurd that millions of taxpayer’s dollars should be spent on it?  How farcical that a substantial part of Australia’s navy be committed to intercept a few leaky boats.  And how shaming that we made ourselves appear both ridiculous and callous in the eyes of the ‘international community’ by panicking over such a minor matter.

As the familiarity of these charges indicates, one of the most frequent and plausible criticisms of the Howard Government’s handling of the Tampa affair has been that its response was entirely disproportionate, a classic case of taking a sledgehammer to kill a gnat.  This criticism is plausible, because the scale of Australia’s people smuggling problem is at this point indeed small.  But it is also ill-considered, because that problem is set to grow very rapidly.

According to the best estimates of the British government, about 30 million people are smuggled across international boarders every year.  The trade is variously estimated as worth between $12 and $30 billion US dollars, and is now considered more profitable than dealing in drugs.

There are between five and six million illegal immigrants in the United States and that number increases annually by about a third of a million.  In the EU countries the rate of increase is even higher – about half a million a year.

The tolerance of many countries for coping with ever larger flows is markedly diminishing, and can be expected to diminish even further after the events of the last two weeks.  In these circumstances it is likely that the numbers trying to enter Australia illegally will increase significantly in the near future, especially if entry is perceived to be comparatively easy.

Given this state of affairs, acting now to curb the illegal and immoral trade should surely be characterised not as disproportionate but as prudent.  After all, the ability to anticipate and deal with problems early, to nip them in the bud, has usually been regarded as one of the key attributes of statesmanship – as in ‘We could have avoided World War II if we’d had the foresight and guts to stand up to Hitler over the occupation of the Rhineland in 1936’; or ‘We should deal now with the looming problem of global warming, while its effects are still negligible’.

As it happens there is available a very striking example of the consequences of neglect, prevarication and delay on the issue of immigration.

In June 1948 the liner SS Empire Windrush docked in Tilbury, bringing with it the first 492 West Indian migrants to post war Britain.  They came legally, because earlier that year the Labour government had passed an amazing piece of legislation, effectively giving over 800 million Commonwealth citizens the right to reside in the United Kingdom.  At the time that right was regarded as purely theoretical, as a gesture to strengthen Commonwealth ties.  But that was not how it turned out.

Quickly a pattern emerged: The number of immigrants increased rapidly: 3,000 in 1953; 42,650 in 1955; 231,000 in an eighteen month period in the early 1960s. Parliamentary representatives of inner city suburbs and the industrial centres of the midlands and north regularly complained about the effects that the influx was having and called for some restraint on admission.  But for a decade and a half, ministers from both parties dodged and weaved around the issue, setting up committee after committee to ‘examine’ the problem.  In private they acknowledged its growing seriousness, but for a variety of reasons – concern over Commonwealth unity, the attraction of cheap labour, fear of appearing illiberal – they continued to insist that the time was not ripe to deal with it.

Assimilation and integration were not easy from the start.  The first serious race riots occurred as early as 1958.  But the problem became much more acute with the arrival, again unanticipated, of large numbers from Pakistan.  According to the Cambridge historian, Peter Clark, ‘Pakistani communities, in particular, were notably determined to maintain their own culture intact, especially with the rise of Islamic fundamentalism during the 1980s.  They presented an almost impermeable cliff-face to the conventions of the host country’.  This past summer witnessed serious racial conflicts between whites and Pakistanis in the northern cities of Oldham and Bradford.

There have been other consequences of this neglect and prevarication.  According to Ian Gilmore, one of the most acute observers of modern British politics, ‘the failure of politicians of all parties to respond earlier to the fears and discontents that were being expressed in the country did much to diminish public faith in British institutions’.

Analogies are tricky things, especially when the subject is highly charged emotively.  The point about the British case is not that it is likely to be replicated here, but that it vividly demonstrates how unintended consequences can result from a failure to recognise and confront a problem in good time.

In itself, countering people smuggling is certainly not an adequate response to the problem Australia now faces.  Improving the processing of those who play by the rules – and making sure the rules are sensible and enlightened – are also essential parts of an effective policy.  And so is an open and sustained debate on overall policy that proceeds without the attribution of motives, and on the assumption that all parties have the best interests of Australia at heart.

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About the Author:
Owen Harries is a senior fellow at the Centre for Independent Studies. He is a former foreign policy adviser to Prime Minister Malcolm Fraser and editor of The National Interest in Washington (1985-2001).