How Britain’s Post-War Immigration Laws Failed Refugees of the Commonwealth
In this blog post, library volunteer Steph examines how Britain’s post-war immigration laws systematically failed refugees from its former colonies. While legislation like the 1948 British Nationality Act offered limited entry for migrant workers, it denied meaningful refuge to those fleeing violence and instability, often from crises rooted in Britain’s own colonial past. Over time, laws such as the 1962, 1968, and 1971 Immigration Acts entrenched racialised controls, revealing how Britain’s immigration system prioritised economic utility and whiteness over historical responsibility and humanitarian need.
The end of the second world war saw the global tide begin to turn against the imperialist structures that had defined the preceding centuries. Anti-colonial movements surged across Africa, Asia, and the Caribbean, pushing for self-determination and decolonisation. As a response to this changing global sentiment, Britain joined the significant world powers of the time in leaning into and promoting values of global freedom, democracy, and human rights.
These values were firmly supported by the establishment of the United Nations in 1945, but for thousands of people displaced by war and racial persecution – many from Britain’s former colonies – the promises of global aid never materialised.
Between 1948 and 1971, a series of immigration acts systematically closed Britain’s borders to refugees from the very parts of the world it had once deemed its own. Although these legislative changes were often spun as efforts to manage migration, fundamentally they were based in nationalist and racist ideals that prioritised protecting whiteness and limiting Britain’s obligation to the people and nations it had for centuries displaced, colonised, and oppressed.
Library Reference: Framed/312 (Labour Monthly – H61)
1948 British Nationality Act.
The 1948 British Nationality Act was passed out of a desire to redefine citizenship in the wake of a crumbling empire. By extending citizenship to anyone born in any of Britain’s former or current colonies via the status of “Citizen of the United Kingdom and Colonies” (CUKC), it gave citizens of Commonwealth countries – whether independent or not – the right to live and work freely in the UK.
In regards to refugees though, there was no mention. The purpose of the act was purely economic. World War II had left Britain financially devastated, which meant it was desperate for labour to rebuild its infrastructure, run its public services, and revive its industry. Commonwealth citizens, particularly from the Caribbean, South Asia, and Africa, were actively recruited to help meet these needs.
Whilst the expansion of citizenship offered some – although still limited – benefits to migrating workers from across the Commonwealth, people fleeing conflict or instability were caught in a system that didn’t recognise them.
Partition of India, 1947.
One of the earliest crises that exposed this failure was the Partition of India in 1947. After nearly two centuries of colonial rule, Britain withdrew its presence swiftly and with little regard for the condition it left the subcontinent in. The territory was split into India and Pakistan in an effort to separate and minimise the religious tensions that had been growing between the Muslim and Hindu populations, however this was an incredibly over-simplified attempt at a solution.
What followed was one of the largest forced migrations in history, with more than 14 million people displaced and at least one million people killed. Although many remained within the subcontinent, some – especially those with family ties to Britain – sought refuge in the UK. Legally citizens of India were part of the Commonwealth, and so when the 1948 act was passed a year after partition, they were eligible to migrate. In reality though, the British state actively discouraged any such movement, and those affected were offered no formal avenues to pursue resettlement, and no support. For a crisis it had orchestrated, Britain had no reservations turning its back on the affected.
Greek and Turkish Cypriots, 1950-60s.
A few years later on the other side of the middle east, Cyprus – at this time still a British colony – erupted into violence. Rising Greek Cypriot nationalism saw a desire emerge to form a union with Greece, however Turkish Cypriots were firmly against this. By the late 1950s and into the 1960s, violence between Greek and Turkish Cypriots intensified, with Turkish Cypriots in particular fleeing to Britain in significant numbers.
Similarly to the case in India, those who left Cyprus were permitted in Britain under the 1948 act, but they didn’t receive recognition as refugees, weren’t eligible for housing or welfare support, and were largely treated as economic migrants that migrated as a result of choice rather than necessity.
From its conception, Britain’s modern immigration system extended citizenship without offering refuge. It welcomed workers, but not the displaced. Although it preserved legal ties to its former colonies, it dismissed any obligation to offer sanctuary when it was needed.
The 1962 and 1968 Commonwealth Immigrants Act.
By the 1960s Britain’s economy had largely recovered and its need for migrant labour had declined, but migration itself continued to flow. To address this imbalance, Britain introduced the Commonwealth Immigrants Act 1962, which restricted immigration from Commonwealth citizens unless an individual had a British Passport or a family connection. This marked a radical shift, as Commonwealth citizens were no longer classed under an equal CUKC identity like the 1948 act suggested. Rather, their citizenship had become formally conditional and increasingly racialised.
The 1968 Commonwealth Immigrants Act tightened this further, placing restrictions even on those who held a British passport. Now, only those with a direct ancestral link to Britain (parent or grandparent born in the UK) were exempt from immigration restrictions.
Not only did these acts make it more difficult for refugees to enter the country, but they also made life for racialised people in the UK increasingly difficult. The Birmingham branch of the Indian Workers’ Association stated in a leaflet that, ‘since the racialist Commonwealth Immigrant’s Act had been enforced race relations in Britain have deteriorated. Racial discrimination has been intensified and racialist organisations have been encouraged.’
South Asian Ugandans, 1972.
Just one year later in 1972, Ugandan dictator Idi Amin expelled 80,000 Asians from the country, giving them only 90 days to leave. Many held British passports and – in the face of public pressure – Britain agreed to take some of the displaced. This was not without complaint though, and anti-refugee sentiment rose sharply, with newspapers, media, and local councils showing hostility to newly settled families. Even though Britain had approved their citizenship, and had helped construct the racial hierarchy that now endangered them, Ugandan Asians were treated as burdens, not people in need of aid.
Sri Lankan Tamils, 1970s.
Similarly, the 1970s persecution of Tamils in their home country of Sri Lanka meant they also found themselves blocked from seeking safety and refuge in Britain. Though many had family links to Britain and had lived under British colonial education and governance, the new immigration regime no longer recognised historical responsibility as a legal or moral reason to welcome them into Britain.
Legacies.
Between 1948 and 1971, Britain transitioned from a crumbling empire to a modern border state. The laws passed in these years laid the foundation for decades of racialised immigration control, and set a precedent for public attitudes, party politics, and institutional behaviour to follow suit.
Refugees who might once have expected sanctuary in the “mother country” found only suspicion and rejection, and many who were legally citizens discovered that their rights on paper did not translate into a practical sense of safety or belonging.
Today, as the world continues to experience major humanitarian crises, these historical precedents matter. They remind us that Britain’s refugee policy has never been neutral, rather it has always been shaped by the legacies of empire that decide who is deserving and who gets to belong.
Steph Harding