Here is a story that will make you weep for the rule of law. A convicted people smuggler, found guilty in a French court, now resides freely in the United Kingdom, shielded by an asylum system that has become a byword for bureaucratic absurdity. The BBC, in a moment of genuine journalism, has exposed this farce. The man, whose name I shall not dignify, was part of a ring that trafficked human souls across the Channel. He was caught, tried, and convicted in France. Yet, upon claiming asylum in Britain, our authorities—ever eager to demonstrate their moral superiority—granted him refuge. He now walks our streets, a free man, while the French authorities gnash their teeth.
Let us pause to consider the sheer intellectual decadence at play here. Our asylum system was designed to protect the persecuted, not to harbour the persecutors. But in the hands of modern bureaucrats, it has become a Rube Goldberg machine of perverse incentives. The smuggler knew the game: claim persecution, exploit the delays, and secure a foothold in a country that has lost the will to distinguish between victim and villain. This is not a failure of policy; it is a failure of civilisation. We are living in a late-Victorian comedy of manners, but the punchline is deadly serious.
The French, for all their faults, at least had the spine to convict. But our system, obsessed with its own humanitarian image, has created a safe harbour for the very people who profit from misery. This is the logical endpoint of a worldview that sees national borders as archaic and law enforcement as optional. We are not a nation; we are a hotel with a revolving door. And the smugglers, of course, are the concierges.
One might argue that this is an isolated case, a bureaucratic slip. But that is the refuge of the naive. The system is designed to produce such outcomes. The Home Office, a department that has perfected the art of inertia, operates on a principle of ‘benevolent neglect’. They would rather let a hundred criminals roam free than risk deporting one genuine refugee. The result is a moral hazard so vast that it encourages the very trafficking it purports to fight.
This is not the first such case, and it will not be the last. We are witnessing the decline of national sovereignty, a process that mirrors the fall of Rome. The Empire, in its twilight, could not secure its borders. It too was plagued by a bureaucracy that had forgotten its purpose. The barbarians were not just at the gates; they were inside, running the asylum. Today, our barbarians are the smugglers, and the asylum is our own legal system.
What is to be done? First, we must stop pretending that asylum is a right without responsibilities. It is a privilege, granted to those who prove their need. But we have inverted this: we now presume asylum for all and require proof of ineligibility. This is madness. Second, we must cooperate with our European neighbours, not as supplicants but as equals. The French conviction should have been the end of the story, not the beginning. Instead, we allowed it to become a loophole.
Finally, we must reclaim our national identity. A nation that cannot enforce its own laws is no nation at all. It is a geographic expression, a contented herd waiting for the wolves. The smugglers are the wolves, and we are the sheep. It is time to remember that the purpose of law is not to be kind but to be just. And justice requires that the smuggler be deported, not celebrated.
The BBC has done its duty. Now let us see if Parliament has the courage to act. I will not hold my breath.
