Why Indefinite Leave to Remain Matters – and Why We Shouldn’t Move the Goalposts

Immigration never seems to leave the headlines. And even

though the next election hasn’t been called — and might not be

for years — political parties are already setting out their long-

term visions. Reform UK have been especially loud about

tightening the immigration system, and one of the things they’ve

set their sights on is Indefinite Leave to Remain, or ILR.

Now, ILR might sound like just another bureaucratic label. But for

the people who reach that stage, it means everything. It comes

after years of living lawfully in the UK, working, studying, passing

background checks, paying thousands in fees, and often juggling

the strain of temporary visas. ILR is the moment people can

finally breathe. It’s the security that they won’t be uprooted, the

chance to buy a home, build a business, and raise their children

knowing they belong.

Reform’s suggestion that ILR should be harder to get — or even

reassessed once granted — might sound tough on paper, but in

practice it risks pulling the rug out from under families who have

done everything right.

Imagine this: someone came to the UK years ago on a skilled

worker visa. They’ve been working in the NHS ever since — night

shifts, weekends, doing the kind of work that keeps the health

service running. After five years of service, paying taxes and

renewing visas, they applied for ILR, paying thousands in fees

and passing all the checks. With their status secure, they bought

a home. Their children, both born in the UK, are now in school

and thriving.

Under the kind of changes being talked about, this family could

face a reassessment of their status. Overnight, the life they’ve

built becomes uncertain. Does their home still feel safe? Do their

children grow up fearing their family could be uprooted? And

what happens to the NHS if workers like them — people we all

rely on — begin to feel they no longer belong?

This is what worries us most: moving the goalposts doesn’t fix

the pressures on housing or the NHS or schools. Those are real

challenges, but they come from years of underinvestment, not

from people who’ve already put down roots here. If anything,

undermining ILR makes things worse. It unsettles the very people

who are contributing the most — small business owners, care

workers, tradesmen, nurses — people who are part of the fabric

of our communities.

Of course, immigration policy needs to be firm and fair. People

should be properly vetted before they come. Border systems

should be secure. Communities need the funding to cope with

growth. But fairness also means keeping promises. If you tell

someone that after five years of living and working in the UK

they can apply for ILR, then changing that halfway through is like

yanking the ladder up while they’re still climbing. It’s not just

policy. It’s personal.

At Resettlement, we’ve seen how much stability matters. When

people know they belong, they start giving back in ways that

ripple out through whole neighbourhoods. A father who finally

secures ILR feels confident enough to open a café. A young

woman who no longer fears deportation begins training to be a

teacher. A family who can stop worrying about visas can focus

instead on helping their children thrive at school. These are not

abstract policy points. They are real lives.

That’s why the idea of cancelling, reassessing, or moving the

goalposts on ILR feels so destructive. It undermines trust. It tells

people that no matter how much they give, it may never be

enough. And it tells communities that the contributions of their

neighbours can be disregarded at the stroke of a politician’s pen.

We don’t need to create more fear and instability. We need

policies that reward contribution, foster integration, and give

people the security to flourish. That is how immigration works

for everyone — not just those who arrive, but those who already

call this country home.