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When Sajid Javid said he would not allow people like his parents to enter the UK today, he was not making a flippant comment. He was articulating views that are becoming central to British immigration policy. Britain’s first ethnic minority home secretary has said she is opposed to bringing in unskilled workers or workers who don’t speak English. According to his own standards, neither his father, who arrived as an unskilled laborer, nor his mother, who did not speak English, would have been allowed to settle in this country. Mr Javid, promoting his memoir The Color of Time, made it clear that immigration must be reduced, English language requirements tightened and entry limited to skilled workers.
Far from being an anomaly, Mr Javid’s position is indicative of a wider and increasingly pronounced pattern in British politics. Some of the most prominent anti-immigrant positions in recent years have been expressed by ethnic minority politicians.
This pattern is most evident in the Home Office, the government department responsible for borders, asylum, detention and deportation. Since 2018, the role of home secretary has been held repeatedly by ethnic minority politicians, including Mr Javid himself, Priti Patel, Suela Braverman and James Cleverley under the Conservative government, followed by Shabana Mahmood in the Labor government. Each country is pursuing a tougher approach to immigration control.
Under Priti Patel, a points-based immigration system was introduced and a controversial plan was drawn up to send asylum seekers to Rwanda. Braverman went on to declare that watching the deportation flight take off would become her “dream” and “obsession.” However, despite an increasingly punitive tone, overall immigration numbers increased during this period. The rhetoric and results were different. Still, the political signal from the Home Office was unmistakable: above all, the hardness of borders.
The explanation for this phenomenon lies not simply in personal biography or personal beliefs. Based on my research on the representation of ethnic minorities in the UK, I argue that these appointments reflect a clear political logic. When political parties tighten their stance on immigration, they often rely on minority politicians who act as reputational shields, people who can push for restrictive policies while distancing the party from accusations of racism.
Immigration in the UK has long been racialised, so it is important to protect your reputation. From post-war restrictions on Commonwealth immigration to the ‘hostile environment’ policies associated with former Prime Minister Theresa May, border controls have frequently intersected with race and belonging. When such policies are supported by ethnic minority politicians, criticism is more likely to be reframed as ideological disagreement rather than racial exclusion.
Nowhere is this dynamic more evident than in the Home Office. The department has effectively required the secretary to take a tough stance on immigration, and appointing minority politicians to the position has repeatedly proven politically expedient. This does not mean that white politicians are more liberal, as Prime Minister Theresa May’s record makes clear, but it does help explain why political parties are so willing to place minority figures on the front lines of border security. This was the fourth consecutive Conservative home secretary to be non-white.
This logic now extends beyond the Conservative Party. Labor’s appointment of Shabana Mahmood as home secretary marks a notable shift for a party that has historically sought greater nuance on immigration. Since taking office, Mahmoud has announced and implemented sweeping asylum reforms, which she describes as “the most substantial reforms to the UK asylum system in a generation”.
Keir Starmer’s placing minority politicians at the forefront of Labour’s hardline stance on immigration suggests a tacit recognition of the logic of this reputation. While Mahmoud’s identity will not determine her policy positions, it will shape how those positions are perceived, especially in a media and political environment where discussions about immigration are routinely filtered through accusations of racism. In this sense, Labor appears to have absorbed lessons from Conservative governments about how ethnic minority representation can act as political cover when tightening border policy.
Immigration is now cited by around four in 10 Brits as the most important issue facing the country. For Labor, long anxious about borders and policing, Mr Mahmoud’s stance marks a recalibration. Her measures include tightening the route from asylum to permanent residence, amending human rights laws to facilitate deportations, and suspending visas for countries that refuse to accept returnees. She unapologetically argued that the pace and scale of immigration destabilized communities and fueled feelings of injustice. While Labor supporters and the Green Party have accused her of scapegoating immigrants, those on the political right have welcomed her approach.
But it would be a mistake to portray minority politicians as mere symbols or cynical spokespeople. Many people articulate their positions through narratives of fairness, legitimacy, and contribution. Mr Javid spoke about his family’s experiences with racism, stressing that they came to the UK legally and had worked hard. Mr Mahmoud similarly claimed that voters who had “done things the right way” were being displeased by the irregular arrivals across the Channel in small boats.
These debates reflect broader changes in the way immigration is discussed. That is, it is now being discussed through terms of fairness, order, and control rather than overtly racial terms. However, this reframing cannot escape from Britain’s long history of racialized immigration policy. Instead, ethnic minority politicians increasingly play a visible and legitimizing role within it.
It is therefore no contradiction that politicians of color are prominent at the forefront of Britain’s immigration crackdown. This is a window into how the representation operates in practice. When Sajid Javid said his parents would not be allowed in today, he was not denying his background, but demonstrating his political credibility. The deeper question is what happens when such credibility is no longer sufficient to contain the moral and social effects of a system built on exclusion. Race, borders, political legitimacy and eternal questions of belonging and citizenship remain inextricably linked in contemporary British politics.
The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Al Jazeera’s editorial policy.
