Migration: a personal problem or a universal good?

In January last year, the coalition government’s Migration Advisory Committee published a report titled “Analysis of the Impacts of Migration.” The authors of the report were explicit that their only concern was the effects of immigration on the current UK population; the interests of the migrants themselves were barely considered. When legislating about migration, it is assumed, the government doesn’t need to think about the effects of such legislation on foreigners.

This way of thinking about migration is very common, though not often explicit. For instance, when the panelists on Question Time are asked about the subject, typically they will consider only the supposed costs and benefits of immigration to the existing UK population.

There are two points of view one can take when looking at these issues. Adopting the universal point of view, I see myself as just one person among seven billion—all just as important as me. My passions and my problems matter no more than those of anyone else. Adopting the personal viewpoint, I seem to stand at the centre of the universe, with my family and my close friends around me. Further away are people from my neighbourhood and my workplace, and partially obscured behind them are other British people. Barely visible in the distance are the unknown billions.

We have a cluster of pejorative terms for people who are excessive in their partiality—“selfishness”, “nepotism”, “NIMBYism” and so on. Yet it is telling that we have no pejorative term for people who unfairly favour their compatriots. So I suggest a new term, “NONI” (for “Not in Our Nation’s Interests”) for people who put their compatriots first, showing inadequate concern for foreigners.

Someone who takes the personal point of view is typically less concerned about the welfare of foreigners, and more concerned about the welfare of her compatriots. This shouldn’t be confused with bigotry. She may have no dislike or fear of foreigners; she may know that her compatriots are no more important: it’s just that they’re more important to her. This is partiality, not xenophobia. In the same way, when I take the personal point of view I give extra weight to the concerns of my relatives—but not because I harbour any ill-feeling or prejudice towards people outside my family.

It is often virtuous to take the universal point of view For instance, if someone gives £100 to a global health charity on the grounds that the charity can do more good with the money than the donor, most people would agree that she deserves praise.  But someone who always took the universal point of view would be extraordinary. Since 2007, it has been possible in the UK to become an “altruistic non-directed kidney donor.” That is, you can donate your kidney to the NHS, so that it can be transplanted into a complete stranger. This hugely benefits the recipient, is unlikely to harm the donor and saves money. From the universal point of view, then, the benefits of donation far exceed the costs, and so it makes perfect sense to donate. Indeed, from the universal point of view, anyone who doesn’t donate seems selfish and obtuse. But most people don’t see it like that. Altruistic non-directed kidney donation is rare: only about 175 people have done it in the UK so far. The NHS permits people to donate in this way only after a mental health assessment; altruistic non-directed kidney donors, it is supposed, are either heroic or crazy.

It is also not clear that it is desirable to adopt the universal point of view all the time. It seems that ordinary human friendship, love and family attachment require partiality. So to renounce partiality is to renounce some of those relationships which make life meaningful. Perhaps someone who only ever takes the universal point of view is nevertheless capable of a non-specific love for all people. But it seems that something is missing from the life of someone who loves everybody, but nobody in particular.

Perhaps it is a good thing, then, that most of us are capable of taking the personal point of view as well as the universal one. But double vision can cause headaches. If you’re concerned about climate change, but travel by plane anyway with a sense of guilt, you’ll know what I mean. Often both the personal and universal views are compelling, yet hard to reconcile.

The immigration issue looks very different from the two points of view. People who take the universal point of view argue that migration benefits the migrants themselves—especially people who move from a poor country to a rich one. Migration controls, then, harm would-be migrants. They go on to say that this establishes a presumption in favour of more open borders, and challenge those who favour tighter border controls to justify restrictions. They ask, “What could justify us in keeping them out?”

People who take the personal point of view see things very differently. They start by noting certain conspicuous and immediate problems in Britain that are caused or exacerbated by immigration: Britain is short of housing, public services are stretched, etc.. Then they ask, “Why should we let them in?”

The questions “Why should we let them in?” and “What could justify us in keeping them out?” may seem similar, but in practice the difference between the two approaches is huge. It’s difficult to understand the effects of past migration; it’s even more difficult to predict the effects of migration in the future. When discussing complex sociological and economic issues like this, the burden of proof is heavy.

So which point of view should we take when we think about immigration?

The question may be misguided: for most of us both the universal and the personal points of view are inevitable. But debates about migration would be much improved if people became more aware of the two ways of thinking, and learned to recognise them in themselves and in others. This would not settle the issue, but it would at least allow us to understand each other. And perhaps when we think about people in the UK who have migrated from troubled countries we should take pleasure in the fact that their situation in life has improved. Only a NONI looks at these people and thinks of them only as a threat to the public finances or to social cohesion.