HistoryImmigrationLaw

The Britain we remember — and the Britain we became

There was a time when the pace of public life felt slower, less litigated, less performative. The evening news happened at a set hour, not every minute; four TV channels, heated debates in pubs that mostly ended with a handshake; a sense—however imperfect—that we were muddling through together. That late-80s/early-90s Britain had big problems (crime, recession, IRA bombs), but it also had a cultural tone many remember as steady: fewer national referees, fewer sweeping codes, less “gotcha” politics, and a public conversation that hadn’t yet been supercharged by algorithms.

Law and “referees”

Before the post-1997 reforms, rights were real but felt less omnipresent. You didn’t run to domestic courts with an ECHR argument because, before the Human Rights Act took effect in 2000, you generally had to go to Strasbourg; ministers and Parliament carried more day-to-day weight at home. The UK’s top court wasn’t a glass-fronted Supreme Court but the Law Lords inside Parliament—only in 2009 did we create the modern court to sharpen the separation of powers.

On equality, there absolutely was protection—just spread across separate statutes (Race Relations Act 1976, Sex Discrimination Act 1975, Disability Discrimination Act 1995, etc.). The 2010 Equality Act consolidated that patchwork. It protects everyone on grounds like race—including white British—while allowing narrowly-defined “positive action,” not blanket positive discrimination (which is unlawful). When organisations overstep, courts do call it out (for example, the Cheshire Police recruitment case where “tie-break” preferences were found to be unlawful). Many people’s frustration today isn’t with equality in principle but with the feeling that the playing field gets tilted in practice. GOV.UK

Immigration: then and now

Another change is simply the scale. Through the 1980s and early 1990s, net migration bobbed around low levels—sometimes even negative. From 1994 onward it turned positive every year, rose sharply after the late 1990s, and received a further jolt after the 2004 EU enlargement. By contrast, recent years have seen unprecedented highs: net migration was estimated around 764,000 in 2022 and 685,000 in 2023 before easing in 2024 as new rules kicked in. That is a different order of magnitude from the era many of us grew up in. Office for National Statistics

What drove the surge? It wasn’t one thing. The mix has shifted from EU free movement to non-EU routes: first students (and their ability to stay), then humanitarian schemes (Ukraine, Hong Kong BNO), and most recently a big rise in health and care work visas. Government rules tightened in 2024–25—curbing most student dependants and restricting dependants for new care-worker applicants—so flows are now edging down, but from a very high base. Migration Observatory

In the 80s and early 90s, immigration was present but felt steadier. Communities had time to absorb newcomers; numbers were lower; the conversation was less moralised. Today’s speed and scale, plus housing and services under strain, make the debate feel permanently on edge.

Tone and temperature

Culturally, Britain has liberalised on many fronts—attitudes to private life, families, sexuality and so on shifted dramatically between the 1980s and today. But that doesn’t mean the public square feels gentler. If anything, affective polarisation—the habit of assuming the worst of those we disagree with—has grown since the Brexit rupture and social-media take-off. We see more “projection” (accusing others of what we do ourselves) and more “spin” as performance. The right is often treated as suspect by default; the left is often caricatured as censorious; both feel slandered by the other. Researchers have tracked this hardening of feelings across factions even when policy distance isn’t huge. LSE Research Online

It wasn’t that the 80s/90s were saintly; it’s that the disagreement felt less personalised. People argued, then got on with life. Fewer tribunals of public opinion; fewer daily pile-ons; fewer incentives to curate outrage as a brand.

On racism—what changed?

A difficult truth can be held alongside your lived sense that “things were improving.” Survey work suggests Britain became steadily less openly prejudiced from the late 80s through the 2000s, even if there were bumps. At the same time, today’s divisive climate can make old resentments feel newly visible, and institutional fixes are often experienced as one-sided rather than even-handed. In short: long-run liberalisation; a rougher conversation. Democratic Audit

The simplicity people miss

What many want back isn’t the economy of 1991 or the tech of 1991—it’s the settledness:

  • Fewer overlapping codes and referees. Ministers and Parliament decided more; fewer disputes were instantly recast as rights claims.
  • Clearer, more neutral rules. Equality law felt simpler; today it’s harmonised on paper but can feel weighted in practice—especially where “positive action” is stretched past what the law allows. GOV.UK
  • Manageable migration. Numbers were closer to what communities could absorb; change felt cumulative rather than sudden. Office for National Statistics
  • Lower political temperature. Fewer incentives to dunk, fewer feeds to farm; less daily performance, more ordinary life. National Centre for Social Research

Where that leaves the “back to before Blair?” instinct

Rolling back to a pre-Blair institutional feel—leaner central rules, fewer domestic rights-routes, a single-tier equality framework applied evenly, tighter migration—doesn’t rewind society itself. We are more diverse, more liberal on personal life, and more networked than we were. But it could cool the temperature: simpler law; the same rules for everyone; migration at sustainable levels; fewer public rituals of accusation; politics that protects space for disagreement.

That’s not nostalgia for a monochrome Britain. It’s nostalgia for fairness that felt even-handed, for a centre-ground where you didn’t have to preface every opinion with “don’t cancel me,” and for a country that could argue hard without assuming malice. The 80s and 90s were far from perfect—but many remember them as a place where racism was receding, immigration felt absorbed, and the referee’s whistle blew less. If we want that civic temperature back, we’ll need clear rules everyone trusts—and we’ll need to stop projecting our worst onto each other long enough to hear the other side out. Democratic Audit


Notes & sources (selected):

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