Shabana Mahmood is here to free Britain of its anxieties with anti-immigrant policy
Protesters have vowed there will be civil disobedience across Britain after home secretary Shabana Mahmood announced police are to be given greater powers to restrict protests by allowing them to consider the âcumulative impactâ of repeated demonstrations. Picture: Aaron Chown/PA
Over the past couple of weeks, British home secretary Shabana Mahmood has launched not only her new asylum crackdown policy but also her âstoryâ.
The two are inseparable: Her story justifies the crackdown. It moralises the crackdown. And it silences criticism of the crackdown.
Sold as an origin story from within an immigrant and racialised experience, the purpose is to imbue her politics with sacred authenticity and the credibility of the first person. It is clever and effective. It is cynical and disgraceful.
âI am the child of immigrantsâ is how Mahmood now starts her fable. Immigrants who came to Britain legally. She goes on to tell us that immigration is tearing Britain apart, and proposes policies that mean UK-born children â who have known no life anywhere else â will be deported.
As she launches policies that will leave refugees homeless and without support, tear families apart, punish those legally in Britain for claiming any benefits, and make settlement and security a long and arduous process, Mahmood declares: âThis is a moral mission for me.â
A test of logic for sure, but the story can help. You see, after being accused of âstoking divisionâ with âimmoderate languageâ, Mahmood says: âUnfortunately, I am the one who is regularly called a âfucking Pakiâ and told to âgo back homeâ.â
In her telling, racism and xenophobia seem not themselves objectively bad things that must be combatted. They are a natural outcome that occurs when too many rights are given to immigrants and asylum seekers in Britain.
If only they had fewer rights, then people wouldnât hate them so much and we would hit some golden ratio where everyone will be happier. Because immigration perception and immigration reality are famously aligned things. Credulous observers will quiver in the face of her personal conviction.
Whatever you think of her politics, youâve got to see that she means it. Because how can she not? She is brown and the daughter of immigrants.
Let me break it to you gently: It is entirely possible for people of colour and the descendants of immigrants to be disingenuous and use their identities as excuses for their terrible politics.
The former Conservative home secretary, Suella Braverman, dedicated her maiden speech in the UK parliament to her father and mother â both immigrants. Yet, she later said: âI would love to be having a front page of with a plane taking off to Rwanda. Thatâs my dream, itâs an obsession.â
Mahmood is not a novelty, just an addition to the ranks of Suella Braverman, Kemi Badenoch, Priti Patel, and even Rishi Sunak, who used their identities to dictate what the correct British immigration and race politics should be because theyâve been there.
Mahmood is just the first Labour politician to do so. Her contribution reveals two things. One is mundane, the other is structural. First, there is nothing unusual or new about immigrants creating different, lower classes of immigrants and then separating themselves from them: Legal vs illegal; working and housed vs needing benefits; assimilated vs ghettoised.
However, here is the structural part: Being a politician of immigrant background is a powerful thing in a country utterly banjaxed by immigration discourse.
This is a sort of late-stage identity politics. A way in which the victim narrative, so condemned by critics of âwokenessâ, remains holy and unquestionable when it is used for a purpose that isnât equality.Â
It takes a prodigious amount of stupidity or ignorance not to see that the British home secretary provides that important service, especially at a time when Britain is riven by racism and xenophobia.
Reform UK is ascendant, and the Labour government is trying to outflank the right while trying not to look enormously racist and xenophobic doing so.
Enter Mahmood to reassure you that it is, in fact, a sort of kindness to force children on to planes and eye up items that are not of âsentimental valueâ so that asylum seekers can contribute to their costs.
Enter Mahmood to collapse all sorts of categories together. In one instance, she says division is caused by asylum seekers. In another, she says it is caused by the high rate of net immigration that expands the number of people that need to be slapped with harsher conditions so they donât force the public to become racist.
And it also requires a very short memory to believe that Mahmood is acting out of evangelist conviction â rather than convenience â when not too long ago she supported a general amnesty for undocumented workers who have been living in Britain for 10 years.
She now vows to fight âvexatious last-minute claimsâ that âfrustrateâ removals. But to show you the allure of being an anti-immigration immigrant, this will not be seen as a cynical reversal but, as puts it, as a conversion â a final seeing of the light.
Who cares about the embarrassing optics of it all when the reward is Mahmoodâs admission into the ranks of the contenders, the players?
Much has been written, since her two-story debut, of the ânew hard woman of British politicsâ, the proponent of âMahmoodismâ, a devout outsider driven by conviction politics, the next prime minister.
Commentator and former Conservative MP Michael Gove is barely able to contain his excitement at the minister he considers âfar and away the most impressive person in the Labour governmentâ.
There is a sort of gamified glee to it all. The contrast between the pain Mahmood is about to inflict on some of the most vulnerable and desperate â exemplified by the flippant âsorry, weâre closingâ imagery that accompanied her announcement that asylum hotels will be shuttered â and the excitement she has triggered in the political discourse tells its own story.
Mahmood is here to provide the answer, to absolve. To free Britain from its anxieties about immigration and race. To turn away from the hard work of confronting the economic failure, cultural capitulation, and cowardice that has enabled the rise of the far right.
Mahmoodâs story is seductive because it allows us to believe that the problem is not a bigger one about a country where dark nativism lurks unchecked, and where scarcity and inequality are endemic, but rather about resentment and racism being naturally triggered by too many foreign bodies.
If the child of actual immigrants says so, if the target of actual racism believes so, then how can we doubt it?
- Nesrine Malik is a Guardian columnist







