n invasion is what happens when a state uses military force to violently enter another country. It does not look at all like the recent images of small groups of people, many from countries that have themselves been invaded or bombed, crossing an international border in search of asylum. And yet the rhetoric of invasion has returned to British politics amid a growing moral panic over people crossing the Channel in small boats. What’s new is the method of travel, not the fact that people are travelling. Fewer lorries crossing the channel because of the pandemic means fewer vehicles in which to hide – which has pushed more people to attempt journeys in inflatable dinghies. The number of people doing this has risen sharply in 2020: just over 4,000 so far, a figure that can seem alarming when presented without context. (Germany and France each receive more than twice the number of asylum applications per year than the UK.) Most people who cross the Channel would probably have reached the UK by other means anyway, but scenes of bedraggled travellers arriving on quiet Kent beaches has fuelled a new wave of rightwing outrage. Nigel Farage is a key agitator in this case, using social media to talk explicitly of a migrant “invasion”, a framing now echoed by several larger media outlets. Asylum panics are a staple of British politics because they inflame several nationalist neuroses at once: the fear of borders being penetrated; a threat from poor, racialised outsiders; and the claim that asylum seekers (who are forced by UK policy to live on state support) are receiving benefits to which they’re not entitled. But in the febrile atmosphere of the pandemic, with a government that is only too happy to take an authoritarian populist stance on law and order, this has the potential to accelerate. To some, the government’s response will seem like common sense: the UK, politicians often say, has a proud history of welcoming refugees, but people who travel without permission are fuelling smuggling and risk provoking an anti-immigration backlash – therefore measures are required to deter them. Yet when it comes to migration across the Channel, the UK has been stuck in the same vicious cycle for more than two decades, where tougher restrictions push people to take more dangerous routes, which in turn provokes further waves of panic from politicians and the press. The cycle will continue for as long as politicians refuse to address the reasons why people come to Britain to seek asylum. To take an example, the 120 people who were intercepted in the Channel on 4 August came from Afghanistan, Iran, Iraq, Kuwait, Pakistan, Palestine, Sudan and Yemen. Of these countries, two were invaded in recent history by a coalition that included the UK; one has been pushed into famine by a Saudi-led bombardment using British weapons and military expertise; one is in a prolonged conflict with Israel, which like Saudi Arabia is a UK ally; and the others, most of which are former British colonies, are places where there is long-term, well-documented persecution of particular ethnic and social groups. Our lives are already enmeshed with the people of these countries, and we should neither be surprised when a small number of them arrive on our shores, nor treat their presence as illegitimate. This is not to say that the UK bears sole responsibility for their suffering – although, with several, it has clearly played a major role and could help end it. Acknowledging these connections also helps us understand why some people choose to come to Britain. Those on the right frequently claim that people seeking asylum by crossing the Channel can’t be genuine refugees because they have passed through several safe countries on their way to the UK. This myth is bolstered by the false impression that refugees see Britain as a soft touch, with easy access to benefits, jobs and housing. This is a misleading distortion, not least because there is no firm rule under international refugee law stating where an individual should claim asylum. People’s reasons for travelling are complex. A survey carried out in Calais in 2016, among people trying to cross the Channel when the “jungle” camp was at its peak, found that 40% of those interviewed wanted to go to the UK because they had friends or family there, 23% because they already spoke good English, and 14% because they thought Britain’s asylum system would give them better protection than that in France. Some appalling stories of abuse by the smuggling gangs who supply the boats are emerging. But the smugglers are responding to demand, which will only be undercut in the long run if the UK makes it easier for people to claim asylum. Several practical steps could be taken, such as speeding up the family reunion process; allowing people to make claims at overseas embassies; and working with European neighbours to guarantee the same rights to people wherever they arrive, rather than the existing system in which countries frequently try to pass the buck. Instead, the home secretary, Priti Patel, is seeking to display her hardline credentials. In recent days, she has appointed a “clandestine Channel threat commander”, threatened to use the Royal Navy to push boats back to French waters (a suggestion that was immediately condemned by human rights organisations) and has resumed some deportation flights, despite concerns about Covid-19. The “crisis” in the Channel comes at a particularly dangerous moment because Brexit, according to the government, is the moment when Britain regains control of its borders. Patel has staked her reputation on being the home secretary who can achieve this. When it turns out that the UK leaving the EU does not stop people from entering the country to claim asylum, her only option is yet more authoritarian measures. That dynamic affects everybody who lives in the UK, not only refugees. Already, the government is trying to co-opt the issue into its ongoing culture war against a nebulous liberal elite, through which it proposes to weaken human rights protections and the means by which people with relatively little power can seek justice. Last week, a Home Office official briefed the Times that Patel was preparing to take on “an entire industry of lefty lawyers funded by taxpayers’ cash” over asylum. In this context, it is all the more vital to challenge the divisive narrative that pits vulnerable migrants against citizens. Politicians nervous about doing so could take a cue from the Liverpool supporters who last week proclaimed their city’s openness to refugees after Farage used Anfield stadium as a backdrop to one of his propaganda videos. “We look after each other here,” one commented – and these public expressions of solidarity are sorely needed to halt the UK’s rightward drift. • Daniel Trilling is the author of Lights in the Distance: Exile and Refuge at the Borders of Europe and Bloody Nasty People: The Rise of Britain’s Far Right