Keith Vaz interview: 'Immigrants are first-class providers to this country'

http://www.theguardian.com/politics/2014/jan/10/keith-vaz-interview

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Practically the only person in Britain who didn't seem to find Keith Vaz's New Year's Day appearance at Luton airport hilarious was the young Romanian arrival he whisked off for a welcome coffee. "Hey, look at me!" sniggered one headline, while a Telegraph cartoon showed him standing on a windswept cliff, captioned "Keith Vaz goes to Cornwall to meet incoming storm". What on earth did he think he was going to achieve, mocked his critics, turning up there like that? Apart, of course, from the obvious: another photo op featuring himself. Such is the man's vanity, a friend of mine joked, when Vaz wants a selfie he gets press photographers to take it.

It's a curious sort of contempt for a man who has served in parliament for more than quarter of a century, having arrived in England as a nine-year-old immigrant. When Vaz was elected to represent Leicester East in 1987, only four black or Asian MPs had ever preceded him in parliament's history; today he is one of 27, with a further 53 in the Lords. He has served as a minister under Tony Blair, and was elected to chair the home affairs select committee seven years ago, since when he has had everyone from Russell Brand to G4S and Alan Rusbridger in front of the committee, making it one of the most high-profile and powerful committees in Westminster today.

Yet attitudes towards Vaz, even among Labour supporters, have tended to be at best ambivalent, and at worst hostile. Part of the uneasiness is down to the string of controversies that have blighted his career, never quite finishing it off, but leaving a vague cloud of doubt to linger over him. He was investigated twice by the parliamentary standards board over alleged improper payments, was suspended for a month from the Commons partly for making false allegations against a retired police officer, and has faced other allegations of exploiting his office to wield undue influence. Westminster wags like to call him Vazeline, as nothing ever quite seems to stick. But even those who don't doubt his integrity often tend to mock his ambition, calling him an egotist with an inexhaustible appetite for self-publicity.

We have lunch the day after Nick Robinson's Panorama was broadcast, in which the BBC's political editor argued that the media has been too afraid of talking about immigration, for fear of looking racist, and has let the public down by ignoring an issue they care about deeply. Earlier in the week we heard Boris Johnson call for benefits to be withheld from all EU immigrants until they have lived here for two years, and Nigel Farage warn that even if immigration is good for the economy, some things matter more than money. Vaz's own Labour colleagues, from David Blunkett to Jack Straw, have been publicly fretting about Roma arrivals, or lamenting Labour's decision in 2004 to allow in Poles and Czechs without transitional controls.

Vaz, now 57, acknowledges that his pan-European multicultural vision is under serious threat. "I don't think my work is going to be done until we have a country that accepts everyone. Britain is the most marvellously tolerant country in the world. But yes, I think we are losing the debate on immigration."

Robinson would argue that people like Vaz were never winning the debate on immigration in the first place, because they're only now beginning to have it. "That is absolutely not true," says Vaz indignantly. "I think the British people have always talked about it. Nick Robinson said it's all been in the shadows, we need to discuss it more. Actually, we discuss it every single day. There are some newspapers that only write about immigration. Constantly. All the time!" If three quarters of the population believe we have allowed too many immigrants into the country, he says, that's "probably because we talk about it all the time". What's been missing from the conversation, he says, "is making the business case for diversity".

It's an argument he's been making since not one British Indian was invited to Labour's first Anglo-Indian summit, and Tony Blair's chief of staff admitted that the idea hadn't even occurred to Downing Street. "When the president of the US goes to Nigeria he takes along a whole lot of Americans of Nigerian origin. It's a business case, diversity. So I get really upset when I see the shortlist for the governor of the bank of England and not a single black or Asian person on it. Chairman of the BBC? Not a single black or Asian person shortlisted. Now why is that, in 21st-century Britain? We still don't get it, we still don't see it as a business case. This constant debate about immigration is all about benefits and victims – and actually, immigrants are first-class providers to this country."

Critics argue that that is all very well, but what about the older Britons in provincial towns who feel the country they belong to is disappearing? "The country is there, there's no question about that. The flag remains the same, the Queen is still in Buckingham Palace. What's changed, I think, is that we've become more prosperous. What happened in 2004 boosted our economy hugely, and we must get people to understand that the country is doing better as a result."

Farage's concern is for communities that have been transformed beyond recognition by recent immigration. "Transformed in what way? They're not dominant." People have been claiming the country is "full" ever since he was a child, Vaz maintains, and it is no more true now than it was then. Farage argues that the economy doesn't always matter more than how people feel, though. Does he have a point?

"No. Because he made it in relation to a discussion about Enoch Powell's rivers of blood speech. I'd been in this country for three years when that speech was made, and I can still remember not wanting to go out afterwards."

The only thing on which he and Farage agree is the urgent need for a referendum on EU membership. Vaz would like it to be held on same day as the 2015 general election. "We would win the referendum hands down," he insists with a certainty that seems wildly optimistic to me – but then he also believes David Cameron is a "genuinely good European, yes, I think he is". He adds, of Labour: "They should definitely be calling for a referendum."

I'm struck that he doesn't say "we" but "they", and in fact often find myself forgetting he is a Labour MP, for his identity seems to be more rooted in parliament than in party. He denies this at once – "No, I owe everything to the Labour Party" – but when I ask if he feels fully embraced by his own party, there is a long silence. Then: "You'd need to ask the party." But how does it feel to him? "I feel, for me, that I am always going to be defined as one of the first black MPs."

Vaz has just written a book, to be published by Hansard later this month, about every black and Asian MP and peer in Westminster's history. Today there are 80 – an astonishing transformation since his election, and he thinks it very possible that he will see our first black or Asian prime minister in his lifetime. But the legacy of being one of the first non-white MPs is discernible in his voice when he adds: "Being elected to chair the select committee, in an open contest by the whole of parliament, meant a lot to me."

I get the impression that Vaz sees himself as running his own independent wing of government within Westminster on the home affairs select committee, which appears to suit him very well. This week Mark Duggan's family requested a meeting with him and Tottenham MP David Lammy, following the inquest verdict, and he is in close contact with the police, but is conspicuously careful to sound a less indignant note than other black Labour MPs have thus far. "Maybe it's my background, but I think we have the best judicial system in the world." He goes on, "I think we need to respect the verdict of the jury. I went into a couple of sessions [of the inquest] to see for myself what was going on, and it is a very complicated case. It's hard for the jury. But they have come to a conclusion and we must respect that. But the family feel let down, and we need to hear their concerns and listen to what they have to say, and in some way bridge the gap between the verdict and the family's conclusions." He thinks the family must now pursue a judicial review. "I think that's all they've got."

He was recently rumoured to be planning to run for the next speaker when John Bercow stands down during the next parliament, but he insists this is untrue. "I have no ambitions left in this place. None." Actually, he admits, he does have one. "I want to conduct a war on sugar. Find the sugar barons, hunt them down. Unfortunately," he begins to giggle, "I can't think of a reason to have them before the select committee."

So what does he think he achieved at Luton on new year's day? He launches into a rather stiff little speech about how the permanent secretary had said there would be "Olympic-style security" in the arrivals hall, while the home secretary had said it would be "business as normal". "So we wanted to go and see for ourselves." He keeps referring to "we", which is confusing, until I realise that in his mind it was a visit by the select committee, even though only one other member came too. "And we asked for information when we arrived. The flight that landed could take 180 passengers, and only 144 were there. Now, we would not have known that if we had not gone, because they don't give out flight information. And you would not have known that if we had not gone."

The defensive note in his voice presumably results from the mockery his visit attracted, but he says at once, "No, not defensive at all." I wonder how he explains to himself the popular caricature of him as a self-important publicity seeker, and he falls silent. His normally busy, chipper manner vanishes, and he looks suddenly vulnerable.

After a long, uncomfortable pause: "I've no idea. I think it's for others to judge you." But they have judged him, so I wonder why he thinks they find him so heavy on the ego. "I think it's a huge honour and a privilege to serve here," he begins – but every MP says that, so what is it about Vaz that attracts this specific charge of self-regard? "No idea," he says quietly. "I never think about what people write about me." I doubt that is true, because a moment later he seems to throw on a public mask of amusement. "So what's the answer? Tell me! What is the difference between interviewing me and other MPs?"

Before we met I'd wondered exactly that: what is it he does to distinguish his ego from the other 649 in the Commons? He does come across as a bit pompous and self-regarding, and would make a wonderful Dickens character, for he constantly references his position as committee chairman, and comes out with odd kind of micro-boasts such as: "I deal with 75 immigration cases every Friday, I have the biggest immigration case load in the east Midlands." But he's far from the first MP to have these sorts of habits.

Having felt for so long that he was not quite accepted, I suspect the feeling must have stuck, for even though he exudes an establishment authority, he doesn't feel it, which may account for the self-promoting airs. Alternatively, of course, the explanation is more troubling; I ask if he thinks it is racism – a kind of "Who does he think he is, coming here and taking himself so seriously?" He tilts his head back and lowers his eyelids in an expression I take for unmistakable assent – but then says, slowly and deliberately, "I have no idea." He thinks it is racism, doesn't he? "No not at all, I would never have said that. I feel very lucky."

On our way out, an elderly member of the public spots him. "Mr Vaz", he says, waylaying him. "Did you go to Victoria bus station? They all came in on buses! The buses were crammed!" Vaz is friendly but a little thrown. "Victoria bus station? No, but I can go." The man shakes his head sadly. "Ah, but they're all here now. They're already here. You should have gone there."

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