As has been widely recognised and commented upon, border controls across Europe and America have been strenuously tightened since September 11, 2001. In fact, of course, the movement of certain non-citizens in and around most western, industrialised countries had been restricted for some time predating the advent of the 'war on terror'. In this article I will explore the particular use being made in Britain of criminal justice rhetoric and policy as a means of securing the border and the implications of this reliance on criminal justice discourses in the development of immigration and asylum policies. Building on work by David Garland (1996) and Jonathan Simon (2007), I suggest not only that the increased concern over border control reflects a decline in the power of the state in the face of globalisation, but also that the adoption of harsh rhetoric about foreigners risks undermining the agency and democratic freedoms long held dear by British citizens.Adoption of harsh rhetoric is regrettable, counter-productive but not particularly new and Bosworth's disregard for history is somewhat surprising. Is the power of the state declining? Arguably no - a shift in power isn't necessarily a decline, irrespective of whether you invoke Zygmunt Bauman or David Garland.
Bosworth goes on to comment that -
Work by David Garland and Jonathan Simon, along with many others, would, however, suggest that we should not consider [UK migration] legislation purely as a response to foreigners, but rather as indicative of the power of the state itself. For if, as Jonathan Simon attests, the criminal law is an integral statement about the power of the sovereign state, then surely immigration law is even more so. Yet, as in criminal law, where Garland observed more than a decade ago, the state has become in practice relatively powerless to influence crime rates, immigration and asylum statistics suggest that so too are governments unable these days to secure their borders. In such a world harsh policies about foreigners may, like punitiveness, "pose as a symbol of strength but… should be interpreted as a symbol of weak authority and inadequate controls." (Garland, 1996: 445).
In this world, as in the criminal justice system, the actual utility and success of incarceration and other methods of population control drawn from the criminal Border justice system, are dominated by their symbolic effect. Institutions of confinement like Immigration Removal Centres provide material evidence that the state is taking an issue seriously, while the ever increasing ability of the state to monitor noncitizens constantly reminds the community that it needs protection. Such 'security' strategies, imposed often in the absence of a known threat, have become a central, though not unchallenged, means of asserting power in a time when states have been "stripped of a large part of their sovereign prerogatives and capacities by globalization forces which they are impotent to resist, let alone to control". (Bauman 2004: 56) As the government seeks increased powers to detain without trial individuals posing a terrorist threat, the purported 'risk' posed by those in immigration detention is bound to rise. Though these populations are clearly distinct, racial, ethnic and religious similarities between them, as well as their generalized 'difference' from the majoritarian community, are sufficient for them to be viewed as equally suspicious. The fact that people from each kind of population can be treated the same way – confined without charge – further seals their fate.
Since September 11, 2001, security increasingly has been constructed in such a way that elides external events such as the 'war on terror' with internal security (Bigo, 2002, see also Zedner 2003). In this activity, the prison and detention center seem to have acquired a new vibrancy and an enhanced legitimacy. Prisons are now the new borderlands, protecting us not just from the trouble within, but also from without. Given their track record and the distinct nature of individuals who are being grouped by the new immigration legislation, the obvious question that remains to be answered is what the long-term effects will be on public life and the democratic process of this particular form of 'governing through crime'. Perhaps more broadly still, it behooves us to consider the implications of these policies on British national identity and on the notion and ideal of citizenship itself.
