Tag: Vineyard English School

What ‘earned settlement’ tells us about belonging, character, and the country we are becoming

January 14, 2026 / Benjamin Welby / 0 Comments

A decorative doormat with the word "WELCOME" is positioned in front of an open doorway. The entrance leads into a softly lit hallway featuring wooden flooring and warm lighting. Greenery is visible near the entrance, contributing to a cozy atmosphere.

Over the weekend I spent some time responding to the Home Office consultation (it closes in mid-February) on proposed changes to settlement and what it calls “earned residence”. Please engage with it. You might not agree with everything that follows but if any part of this unsettles you like it unsettled me then please share that with the government in the free text fields throughout.

I didn’t rush it. I did use ChatGPT though, not because I didn’t know what I thought, but because the free-text boxes are capped at 200 words, and I needed help saying the thing plainly, without my usual meandering. Whether you get to the end of this post or not probably determines whether you think I should be capped at 200 words more often.

Because, I’m afraid this is a long one. But it’s about something that more than likely will, in my eyes, come to define the 2024 Labour government and its oversight of our nation.

What unsettled me most wasn’t really any single proposal (many have been trailed since the new Home Secretary took up her position), but what the exercise has to say about the UK’s default setting – what we’re becoming comfortable with, what we stand for and believe in. What exactly are those “British values” some people are getting so angry about defending and proud about conveying with a flag?

Because this wasn’t a consultation that began by asking what it might mean for people to feel at home here. It didn’t start from the simple, obvious good news: that of all the countries in the world, some people choose this one to build their lives – to work, to raise children, to contribute, to belong.

No, it began somewhere else entirely.

From the very start, settlement is framed less as recognition that the UK is going to gain because someone is making their life here, and more that our welcome must be earned through a sustained demonstration of worthiness.

Character: a decade long trial dressed up as suitability

It opens with character. Not character as formation, repair, or the slow work of becoming dependable. Character as a filter of suitability. Something you can fail; something that can add years; something that cannot be weighed against time, contribution, or changed behaviour.

And it’s worth naming the irony: character is something we are all either developing or degrading in ourselves. We’re all on a journey. We all have chapters we wish didn’t define us. So when the state chooses to make “character” into a decade-long review, it isn’t just shaping their behaviour — it is training ours. It is teaching us what we are allowed to believe about people, and how long we are allowed to withhold trust.

The test for me is quite simple: would I accept this logic if it were applied to someone I know and love, someone I’d invite to my Christmas dinner table? Not because they’re exceptional, but because they are ordinary. They’re capable of mistakes, misunderstandings, instability, bad seasons, and regret.

The system the government is imagining has little room for ordinary lives. Failure is sticky. Redemption is slow, if not forever out of reach. “Earned settlement” is less like a destination you’re looking forward to celebrating and more like the relief-filled end of a very long and exhausting trial.

This image isn’t neighbours and good friends, it’s guests and strangers. Allowed to stay but never invited to belong.

And that matters, not just morally, but socially. A society that keeps people permanently on the edge makes its own fabric brittle. If you never quite belong, how do you feel at home? And if you never feel at home, why would you invest in the place you live — emotionally, relationally, civically? The proposals fear a lack of integration, but aren’t they a recipe for exactly the detachment they claim to be preventing?

Andy and I tried to write our take on what it looks like to think Christianly about asylum under the phrase Welcoming Well. And our conclusion is that welcome is the gospel-shaped starting point; that our approach to asylum can be firm without being cruel; that borders can exist without contempt. That got written in the lead up to 2024’s general election where the previous government’s time in office had had many immigration related low points: Windrush, the hostile environment, distorted statements about migration in pursuit of Brexit, “citizens of nowhere”, the immigration health surcharge, and so on.

I had hoped a change of government might bring a change in moral imagination too. That we might step back from where we seemed to be heading.

Those hopes have not been realised.

An elegant bronze scale stands on a cobblestone quay beside a calm river, with the British Houses of Parliament and Big Ben visible in the background. On one side of the scale, a woman in professional attire stands with her back to the viewer, symbolizing human values. On the opposite side, a digital figure illuminated with glowing blue circuitry represents artificial intelligence. The scale is heavily tipped in favor of the woman, showing that human values outweigh technology. The scene has a warm and optimistic atmosphere, with a clear sky indicating a pleasant spring or early summer day.

AI in government: it’s about people, not technology (as always)

September 13, 2024 / Benjamin Welby / 4 Comments

It was our first week back for Vineyard English School after the summer break¹. Many familiar faces were absent, but one young Eritrean was eager to see us – he’d just received a letter about his asylum claim.

We were back in the hotel today after stopping over the summer (more volunteers would allow for doing this year round). Here's a photo of a letter that had been received by one of the hotel residents. Two native English speakers had to check with one another that we actually understood it.

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— Benjamin Welby (@bm.wel.by) 11 September 2024 at 18:13

The letter was dense, bureaucratic, and impenetrable. It’s a far cry from the aspirations for content design that so many advocate for as a central plank in reimagining the relationship between the state and its users.

He looked to us for an explanation. But even among the fluent English speakers, we had to consult amongst ourselves to ensure we understood it correctly. Hardly surprising, since according to The First Word’s readability test, this letter is on par with reading Nietzsche.

A visual display of book covers arranged by difficulty level, ranging from "Very Easy" (0-20) to "Very Challenging" (61-100). The cover in the middle, labeled "20 - 30," stands out in yellow and features the title "Beyond Good and Evil" by Nietzsche. Other covers represent a range of genres and styles.

The power of AI

I reached for ChatGPT.

Welcoming Well: thinking Christianly about asylum policy

June 19, 2024 / Benjamin Welby and Andy Brims / 5 Comments

This is a piece I co-wrote with Andy Brims. Andy is part of the team at Croydon Vineyard Church and has directed Vineyard English School since 2019. VES provides free conversational english classes in Croydon, and has welcomed hundreds of asylum seekers and refugees since its inception in 2015.

Under the auspices of Vineyard English School we recently hosted a roundtable on ‘Welcoming Well‘ which surfaced the idea of a Framework for Feeling At Home which you might want to look at in conjunction with this piece for practical ideas of how you and your community might respond to the needs of refugees and asylum seekers in your midst.

You may also find it helpful to engage with the materials I noted down during the Sanctuary Foundation’s conference on Migration in Christian Perspective.

The Human Face of Asylum Anxiety

In the nondescript hotel lobby that doubles as a makeshift classroom each Wednesday, Tariq¹, a new student lingered after our English class. Anxiety lined his face as he pulled us aside, his words tumbling out in heavily accented English. “Am I going to be sent to Rwanda?” he asked with fear in his voice, “I’ve got a domestic worker visa…my wife is pregnant”. His raw vulnerability highlighted to us the grim reality facing those navigating the asylum process in the UK.

A couple of weeks previously Farhan² and Ayesha*³ had met us in a similar state of panic. For months these educated professionals and their eldest children had been regularly attending our sessions while their two youngest settled into local schools. Yet now the Home Office had told them they were to be relocated, immediately, to somewhere in the country they didn’t know, as though they were a problem to be solved, not people to respect.

What makes you feel at home?

June 7, 2024 / Benjamin Welby / 8 Comments

A vibrant outdoor gathering at a community center, featuring a large brick building with a sign reading "WELCOMING WELL." People of various ages and backgrounds are mingling, eating at tables, and enjoying the sunny atmosphere, with city buildings and trees in the background. A cross is visible on the building, adding to the community aspect of the event.

After leaving the OECD one of the things I’ve been doing is volunteering with our church’s English School. And specifically I’ve been supporting the weekly classes run by Andy inside one of the hotels providing accommodation for asylum seekers.

This experience has been both humbling and incredibly impactful. It’s been such a privilege to spend Wednesday mornings with a diverse collection of people looking to the UK as the place where they want to build a new, safe, life. Our classes have ranged from 4 people to over 30 and in total I’ve met with over 100 people from more than 25 countries; all of them eager to improve their English.

You won’t be surprised that I didn’t support the anti-immigration rhetoric of the political right even before I joined my first class. But I really don’t think it would take more than a couple of mornings spent with these men, women and children for those that do to conclude that much of the way these needs are portrayed is warped and distorted. As you get to know people trapped in the limbo of asylum and learn about the obstacles people face, even after being recognised as refugees, I’m confident they’d actually become passionate advocates for wholesale renewal of our discourse and our practice.

Unfortunately, it’s going to take time to rethink our response to the needs of refugees and asylum seekers. So my prayer and hope is that a future government builds its policy from a place of compassion and grace. And that they recognise the worth of the individuals at the heart of the asylum process.