Is it a fad in recent times to come out? The long-pending bubble of truth, the dilemma of being right or wrong, the fear of hurting sentiments, or even the trauma of being discriminated against or singled out? While many individuals and countries are in a more welcoming stance, there are still many who will have issues with this kind of “coming out,” where individuals can be condemned or even persecuted for doing so.
Well, all along, if you have got the impression that this is leading into another revelation about my sexual orientation, then be informed that you consciously digressed towards having that assumption. Irrespective of you or me being gay, sad, straight, or twisted -- that can remain in the closet or the computer, if you so wish. This note today is about the truth I feel about the migrant and refugee crisis. I am an economic migrant to the UK myself, and I want to come out by saying that I want the door strictly slammed behind me. That is it.
As an economic migrant, I want to declare a few facts first. First of all, I did not come to this country because of any ancestral roots, where my forefathers had served the queen during any world wars. I do not belong to any family fleeing torture from any despot or dictator anywhere in the world. I am not a student who came to study in the UK, then decided to overstay and convert my visa to upgrade my residence in this country. Similarly, at the expense of love and romance, I didn’t marry any European national to be able to keep staying in the UK with a British passport.
As many other economic migrants, I came through the work route, and I will continue to remain in that route, duly obliging by all the rules the government has. It is important to point out that I bought this product called “permanent residence/settlement” from the British government in exchange for a price. The sum is about to kiss the 10,000 pound mark, counting over a period of five years. There was no room for argument, and this is supposed to be a privilege, not an irrevocable right bestowed upon me.
In order to be eligible, I had to earn a certain amount as annual salary, which is more than double the average national UK salary; I had to fall under a certain age bracket and, most importantly, I am not able to claim any benefits from the public services such as unemployment benefits. I took a conscious decision to accept these conditions and to continue adding value to the economy of the UK. Contrary to draining the social welfare system, the amount of eye-watering income tax I pay every month should be good enough to take care of the basic needs of a family of four on a monthly basis.
I am deeply disappointed with the fact that the government is not able to keep up its service standards promised to me. In exchange for the price I paid, the rules I obliged to follow, and the taxes I paid to prove my salt over any native or European worker -- I am not getting what I was promised. When I keep noticing that the tube I use to commute to travel to and from work is getting crammed every day and every hour, the way we are getting packed like sardines breathing on each other inside the crowded carriage of the London underground, frankly, there is no room for any compassion in my mind for anyone coming by boat to the European shores.
When I have to take my kids to school for enrolment and am informed about the mile-long waiting list, I seriously don’t feel empathy towards anyone else’s kid. Similarly, when I am in pain and want medical attention at the NHS, it doesn’t relieve my pain when the services cannot cope with the increasing demand, and asks me to wait until I am dead or nearly there.
I don’t feel any better either that, being in pain myself, others will be attended to first as there are just too many. As an economic migrant, I believe this is a meritocracy, and I am eligible to avail the services this country has to offer -- because I not only bought the contract, but am also eligible for it. At least, this was the promise.
Not digressing into any lengthy discussion on humanitarian grounds about where the refugees should go, I can only say that they should first be accepted by the surrounding super-rich Gulf countries. Then, all the wealthy nations, including the US and Australia should accept their bits. If they all lined up to send arms to fuel a war, they might as well agree to share the spoils and the residues of their foreign policies.
There are children dying of poverty in Africa and Asia, new insurgencies taking place around the globe. Does it mean anyone who is able to reach the European shores by whatever means are naturally eligible to claim residence? Humanity, sadly, has a limit. For my bit, I donate 10 pounds monthly to a charity working to eradicate poverty in Africa, another donation I make to the memory of a deceased friend, and I try to help poor family members and friends as and when I can. This is all I can do and want to do. I cannot solve all the problems of all the people of the world -- neither do I want to. And this is where the wisdom lies -- to know the difference between what I can and cannot do.
I feel that the competition I have to face is unfair to me. Just because someone is from an EU country implies borderless movement and the ability to work anywhere -- this is unfair to me. Milking the UK’s welfare system and contributing little or nothing are unfair to me. Just because someone is able to arrive in the UK to claim asylum as if it is their right is unfair to me.
So, I want to come out today by saying that I really want the door behind me to be closed. If I sound like a selfish, capitalist pig -- that is what I am. Every day, when I run down the tunnel in the London underground like a rat, alongside other rats of various shapes and sizes, I just think of the share of my cheese. That is why I am here and that is how I keep the UK economy ticking. Though it may not be pleasant, I had to finally come out with the truth.