For the past three or four years, I have become increasingly concerned about the direction in which this country is heading, particularly in relation to immigration. The film I watched today, which I have referred to in the accompanying video, was something of a final straw. It brought together a number of concerns which have been troubling me for some considerable time and left me wondering whether I had been looking at the problem from the wrong perspective.

What I have found particularly difficult to understand is the apparent contradiction between what successive prime ministers have promised and what has actually happened. We have heard expressions such as stop the boats and smash the gangs, delivered with great conviction, yet the small boats continue to arrive and the public debate seems to go round in circles. Why, I have repeatedly asked myself, does a government with considerable powers appear unable to bring the situation under control?

In searching for an explanation, I began looking at the international agreements to which Britain has committed itself. One of these is Agenda 2030, formally adopted by all 193 member states of the United Nations on 25 September 2015. This agreement established 17 Sustainable Development Goals covering poverty, health, education, inequality, environmental protection and international cooperation. It followed the earlier Agenda 21, adopted at the Earth Summit in Rio de Janeiro in 1992, which was attended by representatives of 179 countries.

I had wondered whether these agreements formed part of a wider movement towards weakening national identities and creating a more uniform international society. There are certainly people who interpret global cooperation in this way. However, having examined the actual provisions, I recognise that neither Agenda 21 nor Agenda 2030 is a legally binding treaty requiring countries to surrender their national identity or open their borders to unrestricted immigration. Agenda 2030 does contain a commitment, under Target 10.7, to facilitate safe, orderly and responsible migration, but it specifically refers to planned and well-managed migration policies.

Another significant development came in December 2018, when the United Kingdom supported the United Nations Global Compact for Safe, Orderly and Regular Migration. This agreement encourages international cooperation on migration, but it is also non-binding and explicitly recognises the sovereign right of individual countries to determine their own immigration policies. In other words, Britain has not signed away its legal authority to control immigration through these agreements.

This discovery leaves me with a different question. If the government retains the authority to determine immigration policy, why has it found the problem so difficult to resolve? Is it a matter of political will, administrative incompetence, legal obstacles, economic pressures or the sheer complexity of international migration? I suspect the answer involves several of these factors. What troubles me is the enormous distance between the confident language of political promises and the results experienced by ordinary people.

Britain has, of course, a long history of welcoming people from other countries. I remember the contribution made by Polish communities, Indian families and many others who established businesses, opened shops and restaurants, worked hard and became part of British life. Immigration is not a new phenomenon, nor is cultural diversity necessarily a problem. What concerns me is the scale and pace of change and whether sufficient attention has been given to the ability of communities to absorb newcomers while maintaining a sense of continuity and belonging.

The arrival of large numbers of young men in small boats has become a particularly visible symbol of this debate. I recognise that an individual’s age or sex tells us nothing reliable about his intentions, and that people may undertake dangerous journeys for very different reasons. Nevertheless, the images raise questions in my mind about who is arriving, why they are coming, how their claims are assessed and what arrangements exist for those who are eventually permitted to remain. These are legitimate questions which deserve clear and factual answers rather than political slogans.

I have also heard reports of substantial numbers of migrants being granted permission to settle permanently in Britain. One figure mentioned in the news was 200,000, although I would want to establish precisely what period and immigration category that figure referred to before drawing conclusions from it. There is an important difference between someone arriving illegally, someone claiming asylum, someone receiving temporary permission to remain and someone being granted permanent settlement. Too often these distinctions disappear in public discussion, leaving people more confused than informed.

There is no doubt that some British towns and cities have changed considerably within my lifetime. In certain places the shops, languages, religious buildings and general character of the streets are very different from those I remember. Some people welcome these developments as signs of a flourishing multicultural society; others experience them as a loss of familiarity and belonging. I find myself increasingly conscious of the latter feeling. It is not that I expect Britain to remain frozen in time, but I do believe that a country needs some shared understanding of its history, customs and values if it is to retain a coherent identity.

Religion is an important part of this concern. Christianity has played a central role in British life for well over a thousand years, shaping our institutions, architecture, language, literature and moral assumptions. I am troubled by the decline in Christian observance and by what sometimes appears to be an increasing reluctance to acknowledge this inheritance. At the same time, Islam has become a much more visible presence in British society.

I have encountered arguments suggesting that this represents a deliberate attempt to transform the country, but I do not believe that the actions or intentions of millions of individuals can fairly be judged from isolated incidents, inflammatory remarks or the history of religious conflict. My concern is less with the private faith of individual Muslims than with the wider question of how people holding different beliefs can live together under common laws while respecting the country’s existing traditions.

I am also uneasy about what is often described as two-tier policing. There is a growing perception among some members of the public that certain forms of speech or behaviour are treated differently depending upon the identity or background of those involved. I would want to examine specific cases before concluding that this represents a systematic policy, but the perception itself is damaging to public confidence.

The principle should surely be straightforward: the law must apply equally to everyone, and freedom of expression should protect the right to criticise religious beliefs, whether Christian, Muslim or otherwise, without permitting threats or harassment against believers.

Another aspect that troubles me is the considerable amount of money involved in the immigration and asylum system. Transport, temporary accommodation, legal processes and public services all involve expenditure, and where substantial contracts are awarded, there must be proper scrutiny and accountability. I am wary of assuming that everyone involved has improper motives, but equally I believe the public is entitled to know who benefits financially, what services are being provided and whether taxpayers are receiving value for money.

After thinking about all these matters, I have come to a rather sobering conclusion. The forces shaping immigration, international cooperation, demographic change and national culture are much larger than any one individual. I cannot personally determine government policy, rewrite international agreements or reverse decades of social change. I can express my views, ask questions and participate in public discussion, but I must also recognise the limits of my influence.

Strangely enough, this realisation has brought me a measure of peace. I no longer feel obliged to carry the weight of the entire country’s future on my shoulders, nor to spend endless hours becoming angry about matters over which I have little practical control. That does not mean abandoning my convictions or pretending that my concerns have disappeared. It means recognising the difference between having an opinion and having the ability to bring about a useful result.

Throughout my life, I have found the greatest satisfaction in personal encounters: meeting people, listening to their experiences, encouraging conversations, writing books and attending lectures and conferences where ideas can be exchanged face to face. These are activities in which I can make a genuine contribution. I may not be able to influence the course of national immigration policy, but I can influence the quality of a conversation, help someone tell their story or bring people together who might otherwise never have met.

Perhaps that is where my attention now belongs. The future of Britain will continue to be debated by politicians, commentators and campaigners, and I shall no doubt continue to follow developments with interest and occasional exasperation. But I have no desire to spend the remainder of my life in a permanent state of indignation.

There is work to be done much closer to home, among real people with real stories, hopes and difficulties. I would rather devote my remaining energy to something constructive than exhaust myself fighting battles which I have little prospect of winning.

I cannot change the whole country, but I can still make a difference to the people I meet. And perhaps, in the end, that is the more worthwhile ambition.