Britain Is Changing One Minute at a Time. Nobody Asked Us. Somewhere in Britain today, once every minute, a stamp is placed on a document and settlement or citizenship changes hands. Nearly 200,000 people received indefinite leave to remain this year, a 16-year record. A quarter of a million more became citizens. Shabana Mahmood is preparing reforms to slow this. Her own backbenchers are already working to gut them before they pass, exempting care workers and refusing to apply the rules retrospectively, so the 1.2 million migrants already approaching eligibility will sail through regardless of what Parliament decides. The government cannot explain this contradiction because there isn't a clean one to give. Its own forecasters, the ONS, say Britain needs net migration near 230,000 a year simply to stop the working-age population collapsing before 2030, a figure they themselves call historically high and massively unpalatable. Two thirds of the public want it below 100,000. Ministers are therefore asking a shrinking, ageing workforce to fund immigration on a scale the public has repeatedly rejected. The OBR has already done the sum the government won't say aloud. Low-skilled migrants cost more in public spending than they contribute in tax over a lifetime. Yet the visa data shows precisely this pattern taking root. Just 3.3 per cent of Zimbabwean workers have left Britain since arriving, 4 per cent of Nigerians and 4.5 per cent of Ghanaians. Compare that with 61 per cent of Saudis, 40 per cent of Belgians and 39 per cent of Germans. The routes Britain opened widest were those feeding the care sector at minimum wage, and they are the routes people do not leave. This was a conscious decision, repeated year after year, by governments that knew the costs. And the consequences are not confined to spreadsheets. Mass immigration on this scale, without the integration needed to bind people into a common society, changes the character of the country itself. It alters the language, customs, schools, neighbourhoods and town centres around us. It changes what is taught, what is spoken, what is celebrated and what is regarded as normal. Most seriously, it weakens the shared culture and common assumptions that allow millions of people, many of whom have never met, to feel they nevertheless belong to the same country. This did not happen by accident. Successive governments expanded migration routes, lowered barriers and encouraged recruitment from abroad while repeatedly ignoring warnings about housing, public services, wages, integration and social cohesion. They knew millions of newcomers would permanently change the composition of the population. They knew integration was not keeping pace. They carried on regardless. Mahmood's reforms will pass in some diminished form, applying to almost no one already here. The dependency ratio will keep tightening. The country that has changed will not simply change back. Lowering the inflow does not undo the transformation already created. There is no minister, in this government or the one before it, who has ever stood before the country and said plainly: this is the scale of immigration we have chosen, this is what it will do to our economy, our communities and our national identity, and this is the price we are asking you to pay. That reckoning never came. The price was simply spent, a minute at a time, until there was nothing left to ask permission for. "They knew millions of newcomers would permanently change the composition of the population. They knew integration was not keeping pace. They carried on regardless."

The funeral pyre Powell described is now well alight. The long march Dutschke theorised is reaping its dividend at the ballot box, in the university, in the civil service and in the media organisations that still cannot report these poll findings without a paragraph of mitigation. And the Muslim continent Gaddafi foresaw is not a distant prospect but a visible trajectory in the cities and boroughs of a country that was once proud to call itself a stable democracy.