Lo! An angel of the lord chief justice did come down among us. And he did say that Christmas dreams should all come true. Suella Braverman was sore amazed and did fall to her knees in thanks. The lord chief justice was indeed bountiful. If not entirely merciful.
The home secretary did well remember her dreams that had been revealed to her in her sleep. And while she was awake. For Suella’s heart was filled with hatred. The hatred known only unto the truly unrighteous. How she had longed to arrest some scared foreigners who had alighted on British shores in search of asylum! And from the beach to put them straight on a plane and fly them to Rwanda. A country from which many of its own inhabitants wanted to flee. There to live in terror. This was what the baby Jesus would have wanted.
Now those dreams were to come true. Possibly. Though Suella could now live in hope. For the judges had decreed it lawful that any asylum seeker could be deported to Rwanda. Though the reality was that only a few – at most – would ever end up in Africa as the lawyers would find other reasons for blocking their deportation. But Suella did look on the bright side. It was far better for any home secretary to be blocked by human rights lawyers than for their own department to have come up with proposed legislation that was deemed unlawful.
Thus it was that Suella did come to the Commons to make a statement on the government’s Rwanda policy. “Fear not,” she said. “For, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people.” At least to the three or four dozen MPs who had gathered in the chamber. For this was the last week before Christmas and many backbenchers had clearly decided they were better off back at home.
This was her vision, saith the home secretary. We had already been far too generous to the 450,000 people to whom we had granted asylum over the last few years. Even if we had owed these people a duty of care. And many of them had been Ukrainian, which made them feel a bit less foreign. But there cometh an end to the milk of human kindness. Verily, foreigners had started to take the piss and treat the chosen people of England like mugs. And now, the Lord had decreed that enough was enough.
So it was that the Lord had decided foreigners – those that beat off the wave machines and survived diphtheria in the processing camps – should be sent to the promised land. A land of milk and honey. Rwanda. Be not downcast. Rather sing its praises. For even Suella had been there for at least a couple of days. Which was more than enough as far as she was concerned.
Hallelujah, she did cry. ‘Tis far better for a handful of unfortunates – the weak, the halt, the lame – to find themselves in Rwanda at a cost of several million pounds a head than for them to be granted asylum back in Blighty. For an example had to be made. The Lord was a vengeful God. And something had to be done to satisfy the Tory backbenchers who believed that some kind of token gesture was taken to make the country feel as if the Pharisees did have a grip on immigration.
The shadow home secretary, Yvette Cooper, was far from convinced. Not only was the Rwanda policy unworkable, unethical and expensive it also failed as a deterrent to stop the real criminals: the people smugglers. They were still coining it in, as none of the government’s plans – the Nationality and Borders Act, Rwanda and Rishi Sunak’s latest get-tough measures – had made a blind bit of difference. People were still crossing the Channel in sub-zero conditions.
Let’s get real, she continued. Even assuming the Home Office was capable of getting all the legal paperwork in order – something it hadn’t managed to do for the eight asylum seekers it had tried to deport, when it even got people’s names muddled up – Rwanda had said the maximum number of refugees it could take was 200. That was less than 0.5% of the number of people who had crossed the channel this year.
At this Suella was filled with wrath. For she did well understand her government was in the last chance saloon. Though fortunately she was too dim to see that all of her plans were doomed to failure. Instead, she did wail and weep. Could not MPs see she was doing the Lord’s work? And the Lord liketh it. As did the rest of the country who thoroughly approved of her Rwanda policy. Except they didn’t. A recent poll suggests that most people are horrified by it.
But, yea, the Tory backbenchers – the self-selecting few who had stayed to indulge their xenophobia – were much excited. Dying to know exactly when the first flights would be taking off so they could celebrate at home. Jacob Rees-Mogg and Edward Leigh were much afraid that the Europeans would kill off the deportations and sought assurance that the UK would ignore international law. Suella kept her counsel. Probably because she didn’t quite understand the implications.
Others were verily more eclectic in their responses. Natalie Elphicke thought foreigners began at Calais and should be treated as such. John Whittingdale had been to a nice hotel in Rwanda and could thoroughly recommend the country as a tourist destination. Desmond Swayne felt there were already far too many safe routes for asylum seekers and we should be doing nothing more to help anyone. Jack Brereton felt the people of Stoke had done too much already.
Truly the Tories were all blessed with the Christmas spirit. The sweet milk of human kindness. The quality of mercy is not strained. Certainly when it comes to refugees.
