Immigration Fears on Both Sides of the Atlantic | Opinion

To the naked eye, London seems as when I lived there in the 2000s. Londoners still mind the gap between the train and the platform, close the pubs early, serve sausages quite foul and occupy buildings, parks and "high streets" that are a joy to behold. But there is deep disquiet in the air, and it seems to stem from Brexit.

The malaise is severe enough to have created a sort-of political Halley's Comet: near-universal acceptance that the opposition will win the election that must be held by the end of the year. Sir Kier Starmer, the ex-prosecutor and head of the Labour Party, is generally accepted as the prime minister-in-waiting.

He does not strut about insufferably mainly because he's quite stolid. That was rather the point of him after Jeremy Corbyn, his terrorist-befriending predecessor who led Labour to disaster in the 2019 election. I bet Starmer is also humbled by his incredible good luck in following not only his own party's crank but also the Brexit-era Tories—the inept Theresa May, the clownish Boris Johnson, the fleeting Liz Truss (outlasted in office by a lettuce) and now Rishi Sunak, who presents as wide-eyed and boyish. His small physical size is the subject of much fun on BBC radio.

This near-certainty is strikingly different from the situation in United States, which will be going to the polls around the same time but where no one has a clue how things will go down.

I observe a similarity between the "cousins" on immigration, which is a massive kerfuffle in both countries. Perhaps that is no coincidence, because English is a factor that attracts at present. "You guys are also being invaded," one Brexit supporter told me, with what was clearly real concern.

In America, many indeed fear the government is unwilling or unable to police the southern border, and rightly or wrongly the Democrats' handling of it is pushing voters to the right (as I have written on these pages).

In Britain, the border really was wide-open to "foreigners" who were also citizens of the European Union, and it caused multitudes to support Brexit. That's over, and I'd say this is by far the main reason why just over a third of Brits tell pollsters now that they would do it again. But therein lies the source of the disquiet: almost two-thirds are experiencing what one might call Bregret.

The mistake narrative stems from voters being bamboozled by the Leave campaign's nonsense about how billions would flow back to Britain if it bolted the EU. Instead, they paid a steep price—perhaps a tenth of Britain's potential GDP was shaved off by removing itself from the world's largest combined economy, of which London had been the financial capital.

That status was key to understanding why London in the early years of this century felt like the center of the universe. It was basically the capital of the European Union—a multicultural place in the best sense of the word, whose good karma created a euphoria that must be experienced to be understood. Under the surface, of course, many people felt globalization had passed them by—like in the United States—and wanted to shake things up.

The Conservatives squeaked into power in 2010 and immediately rocked the applecart with an ill-advised austerity plan—but the fun really started when then Prime Minister David Cameron caved in to the MAGA-ish Euroskeptic wing of his party by calling the Brexit referendum. When Remainers wheeled out economists to warn of the cost, Leavers memorably declared that "the people have had enough of experts." Cameron believed the experts, but after all, he was a winner in the game of life. He decided to roll the dice. He flipped a coin. And bloody hell! He resigned without a fuss (attention, Bibi Netanyahu).

So, did "the people" "speak" in the 2016 vote? The 52-48 percent result was a squeaker that basically broke even (as so many elections seem to) and could have gone either way. It also was a decision to attempt Brexit, with the particulars to be worked out somewhere down the road—somewhat akin to a separation before the divorce.

The Brexiteers imagined that the European Union would offer them most of the benefits of membership without the duties—but the bloc needed to scare other countries into line. This ensured that Brexit would be as painful as the Remain campaign had warned. Once the implications of crashing out of the EU became clear, polls started to turn against the move.

Logic argued for a second referendum to ratify the real deal, as opposed to some shepherd's pie in the sky. But British instinct urged a stiff upper lip and a sporting acquiescence. This, even though the young people who would have to live with the consequences the longest overwhelmingly hated the idea. But then again, they also participated in low numbers in the vote; there is an issue with these young people.

One of the reasons Brexit squeaked through was that Corbyn did not campaign against it; as a woolly-brained leftist he saw the EU (a rather interventionist outfit inclined if anything to overregulate) as a capitalist construct.

I'm guessing Sir Keir would secretly prefer a Breturn (as would most Labour voters, if it were possible without another decade of arguing). But he is fearful of saying it because the Brexit vote cut across party lines and Labour's solid poll lead of over 20 points is based on support from at least some who still hate the EU.

Indeed, some in the shadow government explicitly promise that they will not seek to rejoin the EU. Honoring that pledge would be a quite remarkable thing, almost quaint in an era when few expect honesty from politicians. But I sense it's more than a campaign stratagem; they really are devoted to fair play. Brexit was a cockup; no matter; carry on.

So, for now, they need to own something of a debacle. There is a huge complication with goods coming in from Northern Ireland, which is part of the United Kingdom but which wants open borders with the Republic of Ireland, an EU member. There are all kinds of delays and mishaps in shipping and commerce (books are mailed to the Netherlands and don't arrive). And the contraction of the economy is widely blamed for the collapse in public services, especially the once-beloved National Health Service (ambulances can take so long that a hearse may better suit).

But nonetheless, Brexit was not a mistake if one understands things for what they are and yet prefers the inconveniences.

Full membership in the EU carries many benefits, mainly the free movement of goods and services. But it also carries costs, chiefly the free movement of people. Many prize diversity, but not so many want to be numerically overwhelmed by immigrants.

EU member countries have few tools to prevent everyone else in the bloc of over 400 million from moving in just as any American can move to Miami (as can seem these days to be the case)—but they don't mind the gamble because it's unrealistic. Because of the attractiveness of London, Britain's flexible labor market and the universality of English, the British started to suspect that it was not unrealistic.

I am contemplating all this in a lovely pub, where the manager is a Romanian, as were four others I encountered in a few days in the capital. Lovely fellows all—but British they are not.

From here, I am watching the BBC report on the unseemly Stormy Daniels case, and reading local analyses on what might happen if Trump had to govern from prison. And then, the following occurs to me: Would it not be ever so splendid to transfer a bit of this fair play away from Britain, which has too much, to the United States. Which, well, does not.

Dan Perry is the former Cairo-based Middle East editor and London-based Europe/Africa editor of the Associated Press. Follow him at danperry.substack.com.

The views expressed in this article are the writer's own.