January 17, 2018

Katie Hopkins: The truth about ‘sh*thole’ countries

Katie HopkinsShillman Fellow

Do you live in a sh*thole country?

After Trump started a global conversation on “sh*thole countries,” and Brietbart’s Raheem Kasseem announced that “London is turning into a sh*thole under Sadiqi Khan” – many of us felt a sense of relief.

Straight talk – like a blast of fresh air on a clammy bus.

Across Western Europe, huge numbers of people believe their own country is turning into exactly that, and are packing their bags.

When I asked for your stories, even in my noisy world, I was overwhelmed with your replies.

Some, like Steve, left Manchester ten years ago with his wife and young son to start a new life in Perth, Western Australia.

He left full of hope for a new life somewhere where citizenship was seen as a privilege not a right; something earned through hard work, good skills and a clean criminal record.

“I remember standing next to a young man from Vietnam who broke down in floods of tears on receiving his Citizenship Certificate,” he tells me.

“I held back my tears but I felt his pride, his relief, and his gratitude. This is what citizenship should feel like.”

”I had lived in the UK for twenty years and seen massive changes and not for the better. Benefit culture and Islamic migrants left their indelible mark on the place I used to call home. And I wanted something better for my son.”

The exodus from Western Europe to a better life is not limited to Australia.

Many spoke of a better life in Hong Kong where “they don’t stand for any nonsense,” or New Zealand “an idyllic place for a family.”

In nearly every case – it was a better life for their children that they were drawn to, and that Western Europe could no longer deliver.

Reading these truths reveals a clear pattern. Teb or 20 years ago, ambitious Brits left to go to Australia, New Zealand or America in pursuit of a better life elsewhere.

They had hope.

But those who have recently packed their bags talk only of escaping. They want to escape FROM Western Europe. They talk of the need to get away, of being forced out.

And the difference in tone is dramatic. In the place of a bright future and a sense of purpose, there is something far darker, bordering on despair.

They have fear.

Tellingly even those who migrated to the UK decades ago for a better life, now have no wish to remain.

A gentleman called Pasquale tells me, “We were both immigrants originally, moved to the UK at ages 7 and 2 respectively.”

“We loved our life here and consider England home and call ourselves British. But it’s now at the point where two things have changed that for me:

1) I feel like the fight is getting to the point where, honestly, I don’t want to be a part of it anymore. I’m happy with people disagreeing with me, but now having anything other than officially sanctioned opinions is a criminal offence.

2) I have young children. Do I want them growing up in a country like this? Do I want them to grow up under a Corbyn government? Do I want them to grow up in a country where boys are girls have to break their principles just to fit in?”

Pasquale articulates the views of so many others, who came to Britain hoping for a better life only to see the UK making the same mistakes they were trying to escape back home.

Maher Soliman is a Coptic Christian. He saw this coming.

“I emigrated to England when I was a young lad in my early 20s and I loved everything about it,” he says. “I was so proud to become a British citizen, it was the happiest day of my life.”

He adds wistfully:

“But when Britain accepted open borders, allowing unlimited number of Muslims immigrating into the country, I knew it would backfire. Having been born and raised under Islamic dictatorship, I knew what was about to happen. Their religion mandates that Muslims do not to assimilate but rather force the adopted country to assimilate to them or scream discrimination.”

Like so many others, Maher has felt forced out of Britain, and has moved to America to start again.

Clearly uprooting and starting all over again takes courage. How many of us can imagine leaving everything we know; our home, our family and friends, and the comforting familiarity of our routine– to start in a new country with a new language?

Julia and Jens know how hard it is. They are a Jewish family, originally from Germany, who took the opportunity of a Green card to emigrate to the US.

“This has been a harrowing journey starting from scratch again with two kids in tow; both my husband and I are 47 and 48 and it is not easy to start over at this point.”

She reflects on her decision to leave.

“It was summer 2016. We decided to pack up and leave. We belonged to a synagogue in Bonn, Germany, and my son’s Hebrew school teacher told me it was not always wise to tell people we are Jewish. He said it can be dangerous and it is better to keep quiet.”

”We were driven out by the rise of Antisemitism…The situation has changed very quickly for the Jews in Germany and is getting more and more dangerous every month.

"The question kept gnawing at me: why didn’t more Jews leave in the early 30s? Why did they wait so long? Was I reading the wrong signs now? Was I too oversensitive?

"Some Jews back then did see the signs and somehow managed to leave. And I was convinced that I was seeing the signs now.

"Leaving meant giving up everything we owned and taking our two children and immigrating. The risk was high, but the risk to stay seemed even higher.”

For this Jewish family in Germany, the risk of staying was just too great.

Other strangers repeat their truths, over and over. In 2016, another German lady, Sabrina, knew her time in her homeland was up too:

“I lived in a small German village of about 2000 Germans,” she explains.

“Almost overnight we received about 200 military-age Middle Eastern male refugees. The townspeople begged the German government to stop.”

But stop, the government didn’t. Sabrina saw the impact firsthand.

“It is changing the way of life for the German people. Gone are the days of feeling safe. Children no longer walk to school alone.

"My daughter and I could no longer walk the streets of our town without fear of being followed by refugees. A waitress was attacked and beaten at our local restaurant because it was closed and he demanded it be open. My daughter’s bus stop had to be changed because we were told by locals it was unsafe for us as women and girls to stand alone with refugees watching. My youngest daughter’s German kindergarten had a bomb threat, unheard of in Germany. Deep down people are scared.”

Sabrina fled to the States with her child.

Others feel trapped in Western Europe; by circumstance, or elderly parents – and have neither the freedom to leave nor freedom from the state of affairs in their country. Their stories are the bleakest of all.

Matt is a Brit whose story articulates the feelings of thousands of others.

“We’ve been swamped by migration in my town,” he tells me.

“It’s changed beyond all recognition and so quickly too. It’s hard to even find the words to describe it. Everything’s been turned upside down.”

He worries for his parents and the children in his family.

“It’s seeing my elderly parents – 83 and 78 – try to come to terms with it that really hurts. They are both good people and worked all their lives. Now they are frightened to go out and surrounded by foreign strangers… and I watch my young nephew struggle in his 70 per cent ‘minority’ first school… English is the third language.”

Like so many others, Matt feels helpless:

“I do all I can but what really can we do? Our hands are tied. Our speech is suppressed. We can’t move. Can’t afford to, even though we all work. I wish we were allowed to fight for our land. Truly breaks my heart to watch our country die.”

There is a strong sense that instead of fighting for what we had, we have to endure its managed decline.

Others seemed resigned to their fate; their ultimate escape a final one:

“I am 75 now,” one reader tells me, “and am only grateful I will not live to see the suffering of those left to watch my country fall.”

It makes me want to weep for Western Europe.

There is hope still. Many have shared the joy and delight at their exodus from West to East – to Hungary, to Poland, and the Czech Republic. Some say Eastern Europe is the only place they feel truly safe. These people have the same hope that I heard from Steve, recounting his journey to Australia, so many years before.

You know, I hear the furor in Africa and Haiti, from locals and leaders screaming for an apology from Trump for his “racist” slur on their “sh*thole countries.” But I think it is the quiet worries of ordinary people that are so much more powerful and deserve to be heard.

In the noise and the melee, we are missing an uncomfortable truth. Because we endlessly welcome everyone from sh*thole countries, that is exactly what we have become.

White flight is growing apace. And much of Western Europe is made up of sh*thole countries European nationals no longer want to call home.

 

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