These people all think they're British.
I feel British, and I am British.
The UK is all I've ever known.
But in the eyes of the law, they're not.
I realised I wasn't British at the age of 18.
They're the children of migrants.
They've grown up here, and say they're being penalised
through no fault of their own.
I felt like my dreams had been crushed, really.
Many are paying through the nose so they can stay in the country,
they already call home.
I just go into such a dark place because it's so much
money, so much effort.
And some are facing deportation to countries they barely know.
I was born here, I've lived here my entire life.
I don't know anything else, to be honest with you.
I'm just as British as you.
Panorama investigates the immigration rules that have left
these young people feeling like second class citizens.
Life chances are being squandered by the British state
because the immigration rules are too inflexible.
Maheraj Ahmed is 18 and has lived in East London since he moved
here from Bangladesh at the age of five.
I'm the child of first generation immigrants,
and I want to study medicine and hopefully one day
become a doctor, and help people and give back
to the community through medicine.
Hello Maheraj, I'm Greg.
So how are you all doing?
We're all good.
All good.
Maheraj's family came to the UK when his dad
was here studying nursing.
He says his father's life would have been in danger
if he'd returned home.
There was a change in government in Bangladesh,
and my dad couldn't return, so he brought us over here with him.
He has a younger sister and brother.
And what about you?
I want to be a doctor.
Like your brother?
Maheraj says when his dad's visa expired the family spent years
trying to get a new one.
Meanwhile, Maheraj worked hard and did well at school.
Two years ago he won a full scholarship to Eton do his A-levels.
You must be very proud of Maheraj, yeah?
Yes.
And what's it like going to Eton?
Oh, yeah, it's pretty good.
As first there was, it was like, it was strange,
because it was completely different to normal state school,
but it's become normal now.
But he got a shock when he applied to study medicine at university.
When I was told that, you know, because of legal reasons
you won't be able to go on the university this year,
and you might not be able to in the future as well,
it really depends on your circumstances.
That to me was just devastating.
I felt like my dreams had been crushed really.
Despite being in the UK since he was a little boy,
Maheraj is on a temporary visa.
That means he's considered a foreign student, subject to huge
international fees - £30,000 a year for medicine.
And he's been told he can't get a student loan.
I've been, I've been in this country since age five,
and I've received a government funded education from primary school
all the way up to secondary school.
And when I heard that, it was really upsetting for me.
Maheraj's case shows you how ridiculous the system
is for all children facing the problem of not qualifying to be
deemed as a home student.
Life chances are being squandered by the British state
because the immigration rules are too inflexible.
It's thought there are 180,000 children in the UK who aren't
British citizens but have lived here for more than ten years.
They were born here or brought here when they were children.
They feel British and know no other country.
The problem is their immigration status wasn't resolved
when they were young.
And now they say they are being made to feel like second class citizens.
We thought it would be really good to have an upskilling session,
so that they can go through the application.
Chrisann Jarrett came from Jamaica aged eight,
and only found out she wasn't a British citizen when she was 18.
Now she campaigns for other young people who've grown up here,
but are facing problems because of their temporary
immigration status.
There are young people that are socially integrated,
having been brought here from a young age, been
through the entire British education system and just want to live
a fruitful life.
And your immigration system affects the way
in which you access services - going to university,
opening a bank account, or even trying to rent a property.
As children they went to school and could see a GP,
so they often didn't realise there was a problem
until they were older.
I've written in my diary one time that if you cut me open,
I will bleed the Union Jack.
I first came to the UK when I was two years old with my mum.
I came from Nigeria, I was born there.
She
She is
She is 26.
She says she and her mum came to the UK on a valid visa,
but when it ran out her mum struggled to renew it.
11 years ago, when her mum was at work, there was a knock on the door.
Four immigration officers burst in and they basically
tackled my dad to the ground.
I had no idea what was going on.
Ijeoma was taken to a detention centre with her father
and younger brother.
I had to try and stay calm, just because of him.
I didn't want to show him fear or show him that
something was terribly wrong.
I try not to talk about the detention stuff too much.
I mean, it was very much like a prison.
Ijeoma's dad was sent back to Nigeria.
But it was decided the children could stay, and they were eventually
reunited with their mum.
There are far fewer child detentions nowadays, but Ijeoma can't
escape the memories.
For me, it was just genuinely so traumatising.
The whole process is very inhumane and just disgusting, really.
Now Ijeoma wants to be recognised as a British citizen.
But first, she'll have to complete what's called the ten year route.
So here's how it works.
On the ten year route, you get a visa which you have
to renew and pay for every two-and-a-half years.
After ten years, you can apply for indefinite leave to remain,
which gives you the right to stay here permanently.
But it's still not British citizenship.
You can't ask for that for at least another year.
It's a long, arduous and very costly journey.
Ijeoma's now been on it for more than five years.
It's just too long.
Ten years is a very long time.
But shouldn't it take a long time, because, after all, your parents
didn't have the right papers for you?
It's just not reasonable, you know.
I've grown up here.
I've done nursery, primary, secondary school.
I'm now in uni.
I don't plan on leaving.
Ijeoma couldn't afford to go university straight away.
On the ten year route, you have to wait three years before
you can qualify for normal home student tuition fees
and a student loan.
It's like they don't want me in their country.
It just makes me feel like I don't belong here at all.
The ten year route is the slowest path towards British citizenship.
It's for people who've already spent years in the UK and have ties here.
There is a five year route, mainly for people who arrive
with the right skills and income, or who've married British citizens.
These young people should have an accelerated route
that is in line with other areas of the immigration system,
and be on a five year route like everyone else.
And why shouldn't it be ten years?
Why shouldn't it be that long?
People are put on the ten year route because of their strong ties.
They're not going anywhere.
If you accept that they have the right to be here,
make it easier and feasible for them to maintain that status
and be truly integrated.
If you've ever been here without a valid visa, the ten year
route could be your only option.
I think it's to put people off.
I think it puts people off.
There can be no other explanation.
If people are part of our society, why are we creating systems that
make it prohibitive before you can become British?
Why are we doing this?
I'd like to welcome you onboard and thank you very much indeed
for choosing to travel with us.
I've come to the Isle of Wight to find out more
from a man who should know.
Tony Smith used to lead the Home Office agency that carries
out immigration controls.
Do you have sympathy for the idea of people that, say,
they came over when they were two, three, four, they're now 18, 19, 20?
Particularly if they've come at a young age, then,
you know, of course, then one must sympathise
with the plight that suddenly they find themselves in,
a situation where maybe they can't stay if they've
been brought up here.
But the difficulty we have with that is it could encourage
others to continue to come, and that's the challenge,
is constantly trying to find that balance.
So that we can demonstrate we've got a firm immigration control,
and that it's not OK to come here and stay here illegally.
Until a decade ago, it was much easier for the young people
who'd grown up here.
They could often get the right to stay permanently in just six years.
But in recent decades, UK Governments of all parties have
brought that series of policies to toughen up the rule,
creating a so-called hostile environment for illegal immigrants.
And in 2012, the ten year route was introduced.
For young people who have been brought up here,
this has made the journey to citizenship not just longer,
but very expensive.
The UK's unusually expensive compared to other countries.
There are countries that are also expensive but the UK is certainly
on the very high end of that.
Every two and a half years, applicants have to pay
for a new visa, now around £1,000, and a fee to use the NHS -
currently almost £1,600.
That's before they've paid solicitor fees.
These costs have been a real problem for sisters Tahj-Li, who's 19,
and Nashstacia, who's 27.
That's really nice, the polka dot one.
Along with their mum and older sister, they've done more than seven
years on the ten-year route.
Between them, it's already cost around £12,000.
I think the entire process is just not something that an average
working-class family can realistically afford.
When Tahj-Li was one and Nashstacia was nine, they came
with their mum from Jamaica.
The family wanted to join the girls' grandparents, who were part
of the Windrush generation.
We came on a visitors' visa because all of our
family was in the UK.
But the family overstayed their visa, and when they applied
for a new one in 2013, they were put on the ten-year route.
It's like I have to pay my way to be British.
I came here when I was nine.
What choice does a nine-year-old have?
Imagine coming from one source of income...
With three daughters and herself to pay for,
the costs were crippling for their mum.
One time, I was about 14, there was no electric at one point
and my mum bought candles.
There have been times where we were rationalising
essential things that we need in the house: water,
bread, you know, sanitary towels, things like this,
and it's just...
It just strips somebody of their dignity.
People on the ten-year route can work, but can't claim benefits
unless they can prove they're really struggling.
Their mum took two jobs to make ends meet.
She was working for the income that provided enough money to pay
for those visa fees and a roof over my head at the same time.
During the pandemic, their mum couldn't work.
She got a small amount in furlough payments,
which had to last eight months.
In December, she was able to begin claiming benefits.
Now we're seeing the effects on her mental health,
on her physicality.
She can't help like she used to.
I'm having to pick up that baton, which has been extremely
hard on my shoulders.
Their mum was still facing a £5,000 visa renewal bill
for herself and Tahj-Li.
Shouldn't it be expensive, because otherwise everybody would apply?
There's expensive, and then there's exploitation.
And this isn't expensive - this is exploitation.
Chrisann Jarrett is also on the ten-year route.
Is the ten-year route fair?
Well, no.
The ten-year route is not fair.
It is punishing.
It is relentless in terms of the financial demands of young
people and families.
A lot of young people are entering adulthood in their early 20s
with an immense financial burden.
The Home Office says all fees are kept under review,
and it offers several fee waivers and exceptions from the need to pay.
But over the last decade, fees have increased sharply.
The fee to use the NHS has tripled since it was introduced in 2015.
And the visa application fee almost doubled between 2013 and 2018.
The impact is that you're always saving towards a goal post
that's always moving.
It's irrational to expect young people and their
families to pay this.
So why does it cost so much, and where's the money going?
When I first joined the Home Office, it was a free service
actually, to to deal with applications to remain.
Increasingly over the years, the Home Office has had to find
a financial business model which isn't necessarily
funded by the tax payer, and that's really
to cover the increasing costs of the administration of the system.
But the visa application fee you pay every two and a half years
has become much more than the cost of administration.
So, we've got a list of fees the Home Office currently charge,
if you'd like to have a look.
This document, published by the Home Office, shows the fees
charged for all their visas, and sets them against the costs
of processing claims.
Are you surprised?
Uh, yeah, I mean...
It costs the Home Office £142 to process an application
for their visa renewal.
The actual cost to the claimant is £1,000.
So I pay £1,033, and it costs the Home Office £142 just to process
paperwork I've provided them.
Can I get a refund?
I still feel shocked every time I see it.
To me, it looks like exploitation.
And when the ten years is up, you have to make a further
application for indefinite leave to remain - the right
to stay permanently.
It costs the Home Office £243 to process this claim.
Oh, my God.
They're charging - are you ready?
Yeah? OK?
£2,389.
How can they sit there and allow that to happen?
How could they sit there and feel OK with themselves?
They don't want me here - that's how I feel.
And there's another wait if you want British citizenship -
and another £1,300 payment.
This is actually ridiculous looking at it.
I feel sick.
Thanks.
The Home Office said taxpayers should not "bear the burden
of the costs" of people coming or applying to settle here,
and "every penny" is reinvested to run "vital immigration services".
The young people we've spoken to describe hardship and insecurity.
But for some, the stakes are even higher.
I wasn't aware I was in a situation.
I didn't know I would be considered not British
until this situation arose.
Hey, Sam, how you doing? You all right, you good?
I'm sweet.
Sam Trye was born in South London 31 years ago, and has lived on this
estate most of his life.
His mum is from Sierra Leone.
Show me where you grew up and the places you used to hang out.
Is this the school you went to?
Yeah.
I started off in the nursery, and then Reception, Year One,
Year Two, that's in this like part of the building.
So you were born here, so, ultimately, you see
yourself as British?
Of course.
My experiences are British.
I was born here, I lived here my entire life.
I don't know anything else, to be honest with you.
I'm just as British as you.
Some of it's new over there.
When Sam was a teenager, he started to get involved
with gangs and selling drugs.
As an adult, he was sent to prison twice for more than a year.
Another park is over there.
So you're 16, 17 on the estate, what sort of things were you doing,
were you holding drugs?
Initially, it started holding.
Ultimately snowballed into like selling drugs for older
lot, working for them.
Abusing drugs as well at the time, cos I was young.
Even being born in the UK doesn't automatically make
you a British citizen.
Sam and his mum both got indefinite leave
to remain when he was 19, but his mum never
applied for citizenship.
By law, Sam's convictions make him a foreign criminal,
so he should be deported to Sierra Leone -
a country he barely knows.
What would you say, Sam, to people that might be
watching and thinking, well, hang on a minute,
you committed a number of offences.
You went to prison.
Therefore, you broke the rules and should be deported.
I would say that I didn't come from another country
and start committing crime.
Any crime that I've committed, I've taken accountability
for and I've been to prison and I've served my time, do
you know what I mean?
I'm not asking for pity as such, I just want to compete
on a level playing field.
If you're not a citizen and you're sentenced to more
than a year in prison, the law says you must be deported.
But should the same rules apply to someone who's
spent their whole life here?
It's particularly difficult when somebody was born in this country.
It's wrong.
He may not be defined legally as a British citizen,
but for all intents and purposes, he is British, isn't he?
He is our problem and we ought to help him adjust into our society.
Sam lives with his mum Melinda, who had a mini-stroke a few years ago.
Mum, do you want this tea?
In your mug?
I need Sam to be here with me now more than ever,
because he is like my other arm.
He's my right hand, as they say, my right hand, he is.
She bitterly regrets not applying for Sam to become a British citizen
when he was a child.
If she had, there would be no threat of deportation.
I made a mistake and, 20 years on, I don't think it's
fair, I made a mistake.
I wish I could turn the clock back.
What I know now, if I knew then, it would have been different,
but there's nothing you can do about that.
Sam's exhausted his appeals against deportation and is now
making a fresh application to stay.
To confuse things more, Sierra Leone have told him he's not
a citizen there either, and they can't give him a passport.
In the meantime, Sam can't work, claim benefits or drive -
and he's been asked to pay for NHS treatment.
So, what have you been doing to get by?
A small set of friends and family have taken care of me.
Are you involved in crime at the moment?
Not at all.
I don't aspire to get involved in any of that stuff any more.
I don't want the headache.
What does it feel like to be going through this?
Yeah, I think I've gone crazy a couple of times.
I think I've gone a bit loopy.
You know what I mean?
You start shouting and being frustrated very easily.
You start to just lose a lot of hope, you start to lose a lot
of faith in yourself.
There are more than 10,000 people who've been told they'll be deported
because of their crimes, but who are still living here.
Removals from the country now are at an all-time low.
People are not going back, even after significant amounts
of appeals and judicial reviews.
And at the same time, new evidence can be introduced at the very,
very last moment because there's some other reason that has now come
up which suggests that that should be delayed.
That really undermines the process.
The Home Office said it only returns people who don't
need their protection and have no legal basis to remain.
It said its new plan for immigration will "stop the abuse of the system"
and speed up removals.
The young people we've spoken to all believe
they are the casualties of policies designed to crack down
on illegal immigration.
But the man who used to run the immigration control agency
says the current system is failing everyone.
It's not really working for anyone.
For the applicants who are waiting for a long, long time...
For the officials that are faced with an ever-increasing
burgeoning workload, even for the legal profession,
which I think most of the courts are now swamped with immigration
cases, so there's no doubt in my mind that the immigration
system right now is broken.
The Home Office says it has a new plan for immigration that
will be "fair but firm".
It's working on simplifying" the rules, and "reviewing
the application process" for settlement.
It recognises "there may be individuals" here
from a young age who - "through no fault of their own" -
have not formalised their status, and is working with those affected.
Maheraj and his family are now on the ten-year route.
In another year, he should be eligible for a student loan
and cheaper university fees.
I just want to get to my goal.
And, you know, achieve my dream.
I understand that being a citizen is a privilege.
The people in my situation, they should be granted that
privilege from a young age.
Tahj-Li and her mum have had good news -
the Home Office has agreed to drop this year's visa fees
because of their money problems.
But her sister Nashstacia will still have to pay almost £2,600.
Even applying for this, my next application,
doesn't necessarily mean that I'm going to...I'm going to get it.
And that's really frightening.
Meanwhile, Ijeoma has another four years to go on the ten-year route,
and longer still before she can say, officially, that she's British.
And what will it mean to you to get British citizenship?
Oh, my God.
I think in terms of just putting it in one word, freedom.
Freedom from the fees, freedom from this way of life,
of just constantly saving.
So, yeah, freedom.