Civis Britannicus Non Sum

IN the bygone days of Empire, the Australian sheep farmer, the Gold Coast witch doctor and the Bengali peasant shared a common bond. All owed allegiance to the British sovereign; all were British subjects by virtue of that allegiance. As Edmund Burke put it, these were ties "which, though light as air, are as strong as links of iron." In a moment of difficulty or danger, a man's British citizenship could easily be his most valuable possession. In 1849, when Don Pacifico, a Jewish merchant of Malta, was refused compensation by the Greek government for injuries he had suffered at the hands of some of its citizens, Lord Palmerston, Britain's Prime Minister, sent the British navy to blockade Piraeus. British subjects the world over, Palmerston told the House of Commons at the time, could boast as proudly of their citizenship as St. Paul did when he said: "Civis Romanus sum."

Last week, one of the few remaining links of iron was broken. In a long-awaited action, the Conservative government published a new immigration bill that will drastically reduce the right of non-white Commonwealth citizens to enter Britain. The bill is certain to stir a storm of protest, but its passage is regarded as a foregone conclusion.

Under the bill, only Commonwealth "patrials"--those with a British-born father or grandfather--will henceforth have an automatic "right of abode" in the mother country. Other Commonwealth citizens will be subject to the same restrictions as aliens. They will still be British subjects entitled to vote in British elections and even to stand for Parliament the moment they manage to set foot on British soil. But the Commonwealth nonpatrial may enter Britain only if he has a specific job and only for a specific period--normally one year. He must register with the police, show proof of registration when asked, and submit to a wide range of other restrictions. He may be deported for any of several reasons, including the Secretary of State's opinion that his deportation would be "in the public good." Only after four years' residence, if he managed to remain that long, would he be free from constraints on his movement and employment.

Unwanted Persons. The change in the concept of Commonwealth citizenship began nearly a decade ago. Until 1962, all Commonwealth citizens had the right of unrestricted entry to Britain. At that time, however, 274,000 West Indians, 127,000 Indians and 78,000 Pakistanis were already living in Britain--a nearly tenfold increase since 1951. The public and politicians alike were growing alarmed. To restrict immigration, the Tories introduced a law in 1962 that established various classes of employment vouchers; three years later, the Labor government limited the number of immigrant vouchers to 8,500 a year. Even with these restrictions, the number of immigrants remained at about 50,000 a year through 1968.

The 1962 and 1965 laws did not affect the rights of 150,000 Indians and Pakistanis residing in Kenya, Uganda and Tanzania who had elected to retain their British citizenship when their countries became independent. In 1967, facing pressure from their Black African governments, 31,000 of the Asians emigrated to Britain. Then, in early 1968, their entry was abruptly halted. A few Asians found themselves in the predicament of being unable to enter Britain and unable to return to East Africa. As recently as two weeks ago, a couple from Kenya spent a fortnight flying back and forth between Nairobi and London; last week, after being refused entry to Britain for the third time, they were finally readmitted to Kenya.

Cobras in Coventry. It was domestic political pressure that caused the British government to renege on its promise to East Africa's Asians. Today 1,850,000 nonwhites live in Britain; they constitute only 2.1% of the total population, but in the slums of London and the cities of the Midlands, whole streets have become immigrant ghettos. Shops are stocked with curries and spices; street vendors hawk mangoes and yams and custard apples. In Leeds, cinemas show Punjabi films on Sundays. In Coventry, Indians can occasionally be seen on their porches playing pipes to pet cobras in wicker baskets.

Evidence of prejudice is widespread; in a 1966 survey, a large majority said subsidized housing should be reserved for "our own people"--i.e., whites. "Britain is fish and chips," a woman in Birmingham explained, "not curry and rice." The Wolverhampton Bus Corporation until recently refused to allow Sikh bus conductors to wear their turbans while on duty; Moslem girls at some schools have been forbidden to wear their traditional shalwar (baggy trousers).

Signs of Apartheid. The working class has been uneasiest of all, and since 1965 it has responded with rising passion to Tory M.P. Enoch Powell's vision of rivers "foaming with much blood" and of an England transformed by hordes of "grinning pickaninnies" into a vast Asian or African bazaar. "The explosion which will blow us asunder is there," cried Powell, "and the fuse is burning."

Both Harold Wilson's Laborites and Ted Heath's Tory leadership have condemned Powell, a former professor of Greek and former Health Minister; Heath removed Powell from the Tory shadow cabinet in 1968 following the "rivers of blood" speech. Both parties, however, have sought to alter their policies to reduce his impact. For instance, the new immigration bill's proposal that the government "assist" nonpatrials to go home was inspired by Powell's more bellicose call for "massive--albeit voluntary--repatriation." Accordingly, Home Secretary Reginald Maudling declared in Commons last week, when the bill was introduced, that it ''redeems the Conservative government's pledge that there will be no further large-scale immigration." This was one case where a government could hardly point with pride at a pledge redeemed.

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