Why refugees are a gift, not a burden, to society: Alexander Betts

Refugees, via the cruel world of popularist politics, red top tabloid newspapers and social media, have become a problem and many of the underlying issues of Brexit have a foundation in racism and fear of those who are different. I was therefore pleased to see this modern-day ‘norm’ being challenged by Alexander Betts. Have a look at this video via Mark Pack’s web site, it’s an eye-opener:-


And to think that not so many years ago the UK was very much at the forefront of helping refugees. Oh, what has become of my country?…………….

One thought on “Why refugees are a gift, not a burden, to society: Alexander Betts

  1. Laurence says:

    Last Sunday, I was privileged to be in the audience at the Bridge Theatre for Sir Ian McKellen’s one-man show: http://www.mckellen.com/stage/19-mckellen-on-stage/index.html

    He finished with the speech that Shakespeare put into the mouth of Sir Thomas More when London rioted over immigration on 1st May 1517:

    {Act 2, Scene 4}

    Marry, the removing of the strangers, which cannot choose but much advantage the poor handicrafts of the city.


    Grant them removed, and grant that this your noise
    Hath chid down all the majesty of England;
    Imagine that you see the wretched strangers,
    Their babies at their backs and their poor luggage,
    Plodding tooth ports and costs for transportation,
    And that you sit as kings in your desires,
    Authority quite silent by your brawl,
    And you in ruff of your opinions clothed;
    What had you got? I’ll tell you. You had taught
    How insolence and strong hand should prevail,
    How order should be quelled; and by this pattern
    Not one of you should live an aged man,
    For other ruffians, as their fancies wrought,
    With self same hand, self reasons, and self right,
    Would shark on you, and men like ravenous fishes
    Would feed on one another.

    {and later in the same scene}

    You’ll put down strangers,
    Kill them, cut their throats, possess their houses,
    And lead the majesty of law in line,
    To slip him like a hound. Say now the king
    (As he is clement, if th’ offender mourn)
    Should so much come to short of your great trespass
    As but to banish you, whether would you go?
    What country, by the nature of your error,
    Should give you harbor? Go you to France or Flanders,
    To any German province, to Spain or Portugal,
    Nay, any where that not adheres to England,—
    Why, you must needs be strangers. Would you be pleased
    To find a nation of such barbarous temper,
    That, breaking out in hideous violence,
    Would not afford you an abode on earth,
    Whet their detested knives against your throats,
    Spurn you like dogs, and like as if that God
    Owed not nor made not you, nor that the claimants
    Were not all appropriate to your comforts,
    But chartered unto them, what would you think
    To be thus used? This is the strangers’ case;
    And this your mountanish inhumanity.


    Truly Shakespeare’s More was a man for all seasons.

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