Brandon To is a Politics graduate from UCL and a Hong Kong BN(O) immigrant settled in Harrow.
As an immigrant, I find myself in an unusual position in Britain’s increasingly heated debate over the so-called “two-tier policing”.
Some insist it already existed for decades. Some dismiss it entirely as a conspiracy theory.
In my opinion, the truth lies somewhere in between.
Britain does not have an institutional policy of treating White people more harshly than ethnic minorities. The evidence simply does not support that claim. Yet there are growing signs that our police and public authorities have become so sensitive to accusations of racism that they sometimes hesitate to apply justice with equal confidence.
The most powerful example remains the grooming gang scandals.
For years, vulnerable girls in towns such as Rochdale and Rotherham were failed by the very institutions meant to protect them. Subsequent inquiries found that authorities were often reluctant to confront the ethnicity of many perpetrators for fear of being labelled racist. The Home Affairs Committee concluded that concerns about accusations of racism hindered effective action. Baroness Casey’s recent review similarly found that agencies frequently shied away from discussing offenders’ ethnicity.
It was a profound betrayal of the victims. But that was not “two-tier policing” in the conventional sense.
I genuinely believe no one sat in a control room and instructed officers to treat White girls differently. The outcome, however, was the same. When political correctness and racial sensitivity trump everything, justice ceases to be blind.
More recently, the murder of Henry Nowak in Southampton reignited public concern. Bodycam footage showed the dying teenager being handcuffed after he had been stabbed, with officers focusing on the racist claims made by his attacker. While I condemn any acts of violence, the public outrage was understandable.
Millions of ordinary Britons watched the footage and asked a simple question: would events have unfolded differently had the circumstances been reversed? What if a white attacker stabbed a Sikh? Would the police still handcuff the Sikh victim immediately, as the white attacker claims he had been “racially abused”?
Whether that perception is fair or not, it exists.
At the same time, intellectual honesty requires us to acknowledge the other side of this debate. The statistical evidence overwhelmingly shows that ethnic minorities experience harsher policing outcomes than White Britons. Research showed that Black people remain nine times more likely to be stopped and searched and five times more likely to face the use of force. Now, there are a lot of explanations for these statistics, but concerns from ethnic minority Britons that the criminal system disproportionately affects them should not be dismissed.
Indeed, one of Britain’s great strengths is our ability to hold two ideas simultaneously.
It is possible for minority communities to experience disproportionate policing in some areas.
It is also possible for police forces to become overly cautious about accusations of racism in others.
The deeper issue is cultural.
To target racism against ethnic minority Britons, policing bodies have increasingly adopted the vocabulary of “racial equity” and anti-racism over the past decade. While the intention may be admirable, the practical guidance trickling down to the frontline has created confusion.
Before even opening an investigation, a frontline officer is forced to filter their duties through a modern anxiety: “If the suspect belongs to an ethnic minority, how do I do my job without being accused of racism?”
Faced with an impossible systemic question, human nature takes the path of least resistance. Officers increasingly resort to a defensive crouch: deferring intervention or hesitating to penalise minority suspects until evidence is absolutely indisputable. It is precisely this hesitation, this bureaucratic pause, that has birthed the growing public perception of “two-tier policing”.
As an immigrant, I did not come to Britain expecting special treatment because of my skin colour or background. I came because Britain promised something far better: equal treatment under a single, blind law. I am certain that the vast majority of legal, integrated immigrants share this exact view.
Therefore, firing off evidence-lacking accusations of “two-tier policing” or resorting to racist, xenophobic violence does nothing but deepen the divide. We need a strategy that unites both the White majority and ethnic minorities around a shared British value: equal justice. To achieve this, we must pressure police forces to undergo a root-and-branch, transparent review of their internal anti-racism guidance, focusing on two core reforms:
Firstly, codifying “Objective-Led” Policing. Current guidance often focuses heavily on subjective perceptions of bias. This must be replaced with strict, objective-led parameters. If an officer’s actions are triggered by verified intelligence, the guidance must explicitly shield them from left-wing’s vexatious complaints. We must stand firm in the principle that standard operating procedures, executed in good faith, are entirely distinct from racial bias.
Secondly, replacing “Equity” with “Equality”. “Equity”, which pressures institutions to manage outcomes based on group identity, must be abandoned. In its place, training must re-emphasise “Equality”, the commitment to equal opportunity and uniform enforcement under the law, regardless of the suspect’s or victim’s background.
By reforming the guidance that currently paralyses our frontline, we can restore the confidence of our police officers. True anti-racism in policing should not be hesitation, but confidence that when the police act, they do so with the full, unbiased weight of the law behind them.
Britain does not have two-tier policing today.
But if racial sensitivities continue to outweigh impartial justice, we will create exactly the system that so many people already fear exists.