Mobility, Migrants, and Solidarity: Towards an Emerging European Citizenship Regime

13 Mobility, Migrants, and Solidarity: Towards an Emerging European Citizenship Regime Patrizia Nanz Union citizenship is destined to be the fundamental status of nationals of the Member States, enabling those who find themselves in the same situation to enjoy the same treatment in law irrespective of their nationality. —European Court of Justice, Case C-184/99, Grzelczyk [2001], ECR I-6193, para. 31 “Italy is in the EU . . . [so] I have no problems. I don’t know why I should want German citizenship when I have . . . just as many rights as Germans. . . . I have no disadvantages as EU-citizen, . . . as a fellow citizen.” —Armando Guerri, nineteen-year-old migrant in Frankfurt/Main Citizenship has traditionally been regarded as exclusive—as defining who belongs to the people of a particular state—with territory and national authority as its hallmarks.1 However, contemporary states have become increasingly porous and open to transborder population movements. Migration across states and, in particular, across states within Europe, poses unique challenges to traditional notions of citizenship. Cooperation among European countries around economic practices began in the 1950s. Over the last half of the twentieth century, cooperation expanded, culminating 410 Mobility, Migrants, and Solidarity 411 in the formation of the European Union (EU) in 1992, with member countries working to harmonize laws around trade, social welfare, and migration. This chapter explores the emergence of a European citizenship regime and the impact of such a regime on women’s citizenship. In Europe, mass labor migration and refugee flows remained relatively constant after 1945 but have accelerated and, as a result, have become more complex since the late 1980s. The bulk of intra-European migrants left rural areas of southern Italy, western Spain, northern Portugal, and northern Greece in the 1950s and 1960s. Generally speaking, in the 1950s and 1960s, Italy was the most common country of origin and West Germany the most common destination of all these flows.2 At that time, migrants moving from one European country to another were subject to the same national immigration laws as third-country nationals from outside of Europe. The general intra-Europe migration trend in the middle of the twentieth century was for European men to migrate first and have their spouses follow them a decade later through family reunification programs, although this means of entering has never precluded active economic, social, and political roles for these women.3 Some women were also admitted as economic migrants in the 1950s and 1960s. In Germany, for example, 20 percent of the so-called guest workers recruited were women.4 Following the oil crisis and economic slowdown in 1973, many countries imposed harsh restrictions on labor migration across states within Europe. The introduction of European citizenship in 1992 profoundly changed the nature of intra-European migration. Migrants from European Union member states became citizens without being required to acculturate or assimilate to the host country. In the absence of border controls, visas, and sanctions for nonregistration, European citizens are now entitled to move across national borders at their will. The increased mobility of Europeans over the last decade (e.g., transborder professional lives, student exchange programs, cross-national marriages, retirement and resort moves, etc.) has led to the emergence of a “transnationalized space” where growing numbers of individuals are going through experiences in their everyday lives that undermine their sense of national belonging. This individual experience of transnationalization is reflected in the Reform Treaty (2007),5 which imagines a distinct political space encompassing Europe’s twenty-seven nation-states.6 The treaty envisions that citizens can and will derive constitutional rights that are directly applicable vis-à-vis the member states; for example, rights that protect fundamental 412 Re c on f ig u ri n g t h e Nat i on -Stat e freedoms and those intended to facilitate the free movement of persons within the Union. But would the enactment of the Reform Treaty, and the transnational aspiration that informs it, actually fuse the peoples of the member states into one European people, a “constitutional demos”? Is the European “we” a body of associates based on their likeness or may they remain alien to each other? Does European citizenship establish bonds of trust and solidarity beyond national membership? And, what can women expect from the European unification process? Does mobility across borders help or hinder women in achieving equality of status? In this chapter, I analyze mobility and its implications for the emerging citizenship regime of the European Union from a normative-legal as well as empirical-sociological perspective. I first show that Union citizenship implies the dissociation of nationality (belonging) and citizenship (legal status). It envisions a more abstract sphere of cooperation among aliens, which depends on their capacity to engage in intercultural and transnational citizenship practices. I demonstrate how the jurisprudence of the European Court of Justice has promoted this transnational vision of EU citizenship. Second, against this normative-legal background, I explore European citizenship from the perspective of migrants who embrace dual national identities and multiple alliances. My empirical findings suggest that mobility creates an emerging “situated postnational citizenship” with new forms of transnational solidarity among individuals based upon the recognition of mutual difference. Finally, I look at the promise that the European citizenship regime may hold for women’s citizenship and for the rights of non-EU national residents in the Union. I. The Construction of European Citizenship Union citizenship was a conceptual innovation of the 1992 Maastricht Treaty.7 The creation of this legal status goes beyond the functional integration of member state economies via the fundamental (economic) freedoms: the free movement of goods, services, capital, and labor force. Until 1992, the citizens of EU member states were “market citizens”; they were considered foreigners when traveling and living elsewhere in the Union.8 Union citizenship established the legal status of European citizenship for every person who is a national of a member state. Legal status confers four main rights: (1) the right to move freely among, and reside in, other Mobility, Migrants, and Solidarity 413 member states; (2) the right to vote and run in municipal and European Parliament elections in the member states where they reside; (3) protection in a non-EU country by the diplomatic or consular representatives of other member states if one’s own member state is not represented; and (4) the right to petition the European Parliament, and to petition the European Ombudsman. The governments agreed to these rights because they hoped to engender popular support and alliances to Union institutions and policies.9 What is striking about these rights is that they only apply to migrants, i.e., to European persons outside their state of nationality or on their return from migration from another European state. Mobility of EU nationals within the European Union is both an important right in itself and a source of other rights. The Amsterdam Treaty clarified the relationship between national and Union citizenship, insisting on the supplementary role of Union citizenship and making it explicitly a second citizenship.10 This independent right, however, rests on national membership. The citizenship issue clearly touches on fundamental questions concerning the institutional character of the European Union. So far, the Union is neither a suprastate nor an ensemble of contract partners. Rather, it is a trans- or postnational normative order, in which questions of statehood and the boundaries of political community remain contested. Since its foundation, fifty years ago, the European Union has evolved into a community of law that increasingly determines the everyday life of the citizens of member states. This change has had an impact on Europe’s women: the European Union advanced from a principle of “equal pay for equal work” (Article 119 of the founding Treaty of the European Economic Community in 1957) to its current far-reaching equality provisions (Article 21 on nondiscrimination11 and Article 23 on gender equality12) of the Charter of Fundamental Rights of the European Union (2000) that imposes a duty not just to respect equality but also to take positive measures, e.g., through mainstreaming, to promote it.13 Moreover, Union citizenship presents a series of challenges to traditional thinking about the control of borders and their significance.14 The right of a member state to include certain people and exclude others using border and identity documents as the tools of differentiation has been deeply transformed by EU law on free movement. The effect of the right of equal treatment (in working conditions, as regards family,15 and in relation to extensive protection against exclusion and expulsion), which 414 Re c on f ig u ri n g t h e Nat i on -Stat e nationals of the member states enjoy, has reduced the difference in position between intra-EU migrant workers who are nationals of other member states and nationals of the host state itself. In nation-states, citizenship is national citizenship: only nationals qualify for belonging to the political community (the demos). There are two basic criteria according to which modern states normally define nationality,16 namely, the ius sanguinis (cultural/ethnic criterion) and ius solis (territorial criterion).17 These criteria are supposed to embody those social facts of close attachment to a particular state. They serve as patterns of justification for excluding nonnationals from citizenship. Many states have traditionally prohibited multiple citizenships, concerned that individuals will suffer from conflicting loyalties and split identities. Union citizenship, although it is contingent upon national citizenship in one of the member states, is a status that is not grounded in a prior belonging to a particular state. It is attached to the idea of a single polity18 but does not presuppose a prior underlying attachment of the citizen to the Union, i.e., it does not convey any kind of cultural or national “European identity.” Union citizenship abolishes the hierarchy between different loyalties (national, European) and allows individuals a multiplicity of associative relations without binding them to a specific nationality. People who are alien with respect to their nationalities, i.e., who are separated by their different national identities, are at the same time fellows with respect to their shared European citizenship.19 As detailed in the following section, there has been a continual legal expansion of the status of Union citizenship so that it comprises benefits, which in turn may create bonds between individuals and the Union. In this way, nationality (belonging) and citizenship (legal status) are gradually becoming dissociated in the Union. But a feminist criticism has rightly noted that this dissociation has not been gender neutral. For example, benefits for intra-Europe migrants remain focused on traditionally male forms of paid work.20 The Making of Europeans and the Jurisprudence of the European Court of Justice The jurisprudence of the European Court of Justice (ECJ) played a key role in gradually including the citizens of the European Union in the matrix of rights and duties of the treaties a long time before the creation of Union citizenship.21 Since the van Gend & Loos judgment in 1963, the Mobility, Migrants, and Solidarity 415 citizens of the member states have been subject to the rules of the European Community (EC).22 In that case, the ECJ created the doctrine of “direct effect,” according to which some unconditional norms of EU law confer rights on individuals that national courts must protect. The most important consequence of this doctrine is that it makes fundamental (economic) freedoms directly enforceable against member states, thereby eroding national sovereignty. Until the creation of Union citizenship, the personal scope of the direct-effects doctrine was limited in application to specific groups to whom European rights were granted: workers, service providers, or persons wishing to form an establishment in other member states. The logic of market integration, namely, that there should be no obstacles for an EU citizen seeking employment in another state, has opened up space for a parallel logic of universal human rights to take root in ECJ jurisprudence. This parallel logic, which the ECJ has embraced, envisions that there should not be obstacles to the guarantee of fundamental rights for citizens and people moving between member states. While the European legislature, made up of both the European Council and the European Parliament, has been reluctant to attach substantial rights to the concept of Union citizenship, the ECJ has been much more receptive to an expansive understanding of the concept. In 1969, the court declared that fundamental rights, in spite of lacking textual reference in the treaty, are enshrined in the “general principles of community law.”23 The jurisprudence of the court challenges the age-old constitutive tension between human rights and national self-determination. In particular, for the protection and integration of citizens, the principle of equality, and especially the prohibition of discrimination on grounds of nationality or of gender, cannot be underestimated. For example, the ECJ adopted a rather progressive position on the relationship between pregnancy and discrimination, particularly when compared with U.S. or Canadian courts.24 Its jurisprudence holds that pregnancy discrimination is direct and noncomparative discrimination (i.e., a pregnant woman cannot be compared to a sick man).25 The court also took a strong stand with respect to gender discrimination against part-time workers. Similarly, Union citizenship is grounded by the principle of nondiscrimination, although so far it concerns mainly social and cultural rights. By extending this nondiscrimination principle to prohibiting any discrimination on grounds of nationality, the European Court of Justice has reconstructed Union citizenship in a way that potentially turns aliens 416 Re c on f ig u ri n g t h e Nat i on -Stat e into associates. One of the first cases in which Union citizenship became prominent was Bickel and Franz.26 In that case, due to traffic code violations, a German and an Austrian citizen were involved in criminal proceedings in Bolzano, Italy. German-speaking Italian nationals benefited from a rule allowing the German language in court proceedings in Bolzano. The ECJ held that by prohibiting “any discrimination on grounds of nationality,” Article 12 of the EC Treaty requires that persons in a situation governed by community law be placed entirely on an equal footing with nationals of the member states. In another 2002 ECJ case, Baumbast,27 the court adjudicated the claim of a German national who lived in Britain and worked either there or as a German employee in China. Baumbast’s residence permit was not renewed by the British secretary of state, who claimed that he was no longer a worker in the country. Here the ECJ held, against the opposition of two intervening governments, that as a citizen of the European Union, Mr. Baumbast and his family had the right to rely on Article 18 (1) of the EC Treaty, i.e., the right to move and reside freely within the territory of the member states. This case was the first in which the court placed the fundamental right of free movement above purely economic considerations.28 Until then, the right to work or establish oneself in another member state was not wholly effective unless job seekers and potential entrepreneurs were given the opportunity in law to seek work or attempt to otherwise establish themselves in the new country.29 The language of the ECJ on Union citizenship is that of equality before the law, the principle that T. H. Marshall found central to the acquisition of other rights.30 The 1998 case of Martinez Sala introduced another facet of equal treatment into the understanding of Union citizenship, thereby putting a legal end to unequal treatment based on economic status.31 The question at the heart of the case was whether an unemployed Spanish national, single mother, and long-term resident in the land of Bavaria (although on what precise basis her lawful residence could be deduced was not entirely clear), could claim a child-raising benefit available solely to German nationals or those who had a residence permit. The national court ruled that Ms. Martinez Sala was neither a worker nor an “employed person” under European Community social security regulations. The ECJ, in contrast, held that she could rely upon the nondiscrimination principle enshrined in Article 12 of the EC Treaty. Ms. Martinez Sala could not be obliged to produce a residence permit in order to obtain the benefit, when German nationals only have to prove to be permanently settled in Mobility, Migrants, and Solidarity 417 Germany. The court thereby widened the conferral of social advantages and family benefits beyond the bounds of economic activity and, as a result, undermined a facet of member state sovereignty on welfare matters. The court’s approach in the Martinez Sala case, while interpreted as a milestone for the development of Union citizenship, has also been criticized as an example of exclusion of women. This critique is based on the ECJ’s refusal to recognize “care work” as a “proper” form of work in the case.32 While EC law explicitly acknowledges the importance of family and care needs among ascendant relatives in particular, as a potential barrier to the mobility of workers, it does not recognize care as a legitimate form of rights-bearing social contribution. The leading case on Union citizenship is the ECJ’s 2001 decision in Grzelczyk.33 In that case, a French national who was studying in Belgium and who had previously worked there applied for “minimex,” a minimum subsistence allowance. The fact that he did not hold Belgian citizenship was the only bar to his receipt of the benefit. Although he was initially refused by the local authorities, the ECJ held that he had to be given the allowance on the basis of his Union citizenship. The court explained, “Union citizenship is destined to be the fundamental status of nationals of the member states, enabling those who find themselves in the same situation to enjoy the same treatment in law irrespective of their nationality. . . .”34 It is undisputed that the Grzelczyk case is an example of discrimination based solely on nationality. The importance of this case resides in its systematic approach to defining citizenship as including persons who would have traditionally fallen outside the scope of a European Community law. In short, any link with the exercise of the right of free movement appears to be sufficient to bring the case within the scope of the treaty. The court relied on both the right to move freely and the right against discrimination. And, as Elspeth Guild observed, “Marshall’s argument that social citizenship is closely linked with the development of universal education which is a prerequisite for the extension of the franchise finds an echo here.”35 The 2001 Grzelczyk judgment is an all-embracing interpretation of what may come within the European Community’s ambit. As a result, it has far-reaching consequences for the catalogue of Union citizens’ rights. For social rights, the principle of residence gradually overshadows nationality. The court confirmed this ruling in a 2004 case, Collins. In Collins, an Irish-American national moved to the United Kingdom in order to find work in the social service sector. A month later he applied for the job 418 Re c on f ig u ri n g t h e Nat i on - Stat e seeker’s allowance, which he was refused on the grounds that he was not habitually resident in the United Kingdom.36 With express reference to the previous citizenship case law, the ECJ held that any discriminatory national provision—even in terms of financial benefit—was unlawful. Union citizenship has become a “trigger norm” of the ECJ, in particular, for its antidiscrimination jurisprudence.37 II. European Citizenship from the Perspective of Intra-EU Migrants Is the juridico-political conception of a “denationalized” citizenship38 of EU citizens supported by empirical evidence of people’s sense of belonging? In order to explore this question, we should listen to those who live and work between nations, cultures, and languages. Under today’s condition of societal denationalization, such “intercultural identities” are far more common than we might assume and are certainly not limited to underprivileged migrants or an elite made up of “global players.” By studying autobiographical narratives, this section aims to shed light on new identities that emerge as a result of denationalization and the disintegration of the demos. The assumption is that new identities may enrich democratic politics with innovative interpretations of the social world or, for that matter, of an emerging European transnational citizenship regime. Their accounts of citizenship make ideologies39 of belonging and political loyalties explicit, as well as reveal people’s normative ideals with respect to collective identification (boundaries of trust and solidarity, of inclusion and exclusion). The case of Germany, considered a destination for both high- and low-skilled migrants, invites questions about societal and political membership as framed in specifically cultural terms. German identity is traditionally built on the idea of Kulturnation, and until 1999, citizenship, an essential element for the constitution of collective identities, was mainly based on ius sanguinis.40 After the SPD/Greens won the Bundestag elections in September 1998, a heated and wide-ranging debate focused on the desirability of granting German (or dual) citizenship to long-standing resident “guest-workers” and their descendents. In the Hessen Landtag (Parliament of the Province of Hessen) elections of February 1999, the CDU/CSU based their whole election campaign on their opposition to the “dual passport”—and won. The campaign even Mobility, Migrants, and Solidarity 419 extended to gathering signatures on the streets of Frankfurt for a petition against the citizenship law reform project. In the context of this public debate, during which my interviews with migrants took place, the question of being a European citizen or a non-European foreigner became increasingly relevant. And, in fact, all my interviewees spontaneously brought up the subject of their European identity and European citizenship, although I had myself been careful never to mention “Europe” or “European citizenship.” Transnational Surveys of Intra-EU Migrants’ Perspectives Before we examine the content from the interviews, it is useful to first briefly consider some rich data from a series of attitude surveys. Eurobarometer data, gathered by the Public Opinion Analysis sector of the European Commission,41 has shown that negative attitudes towards intra-EU migrants are a key variable that is highly correlated with hostility toward European integration.42 However, what is perhaps more interesting is that data has revealed that even during the period in which support of the member states for the European Union dwindled (after about 1990), the majority of those surveyed by Eurobarometer identified with Europe—an attachment that grew throughout the beginning of this century.43 Interestingly, maintaining a European identity does not seem to erode one’s feelings towards one’s own nation. Contrary to traditional Euro-sceptic discourse in the political science literature, respondents with high levels of national identity are more likely to identify with Europe than respondents who display weaker levels of political identification.44 Thus, because individuals describe themselves as holding multiple identities, we can reject zero-sum conceptions of national versus European identity. A critical factor involved in mitigating prejudice towards “outsiders” seems to be adopting a sense of collective identity that is not exclusively national.45 Moreover, the more Europe is identified in “civic-political” rather than in “cultural-ethnic” terms, and the more cultural diversity is welcomed, the less exclusion and categorization of “others” (EU migrants or non-EU third-country nationals) takes place.46 The well-respected Shellstudie, a national study of the attitudes, values, and behaviors of German youth, showed that foreigners see the future of that country more positively than Germans, and among the foreigners, Italians are more optimistic than Turks, and women more optimistic than men.47 Young migrants feel that they enjoy roughly the same opportunities 420 Re c on f ig u ri n g t h e Nat i on -Stat e as the indigenous population. Recent quantitative and qualitative studies on the life situation of young female migrants show that a considerable number of them want to go their own way without breaking away from their parents’ culture or their values.48 These women are keen on education and see no contradiction between the “modern life” of individualism, on the one hand, and their intense family orientation, the inevitability of marriage, and their belief in religion, on the other hand. They feel free to navigate between their different identities. All these findings support the impression given by my own interviews. The material providing the principal evidence arises from a set of interviews with Italian denizens49 from different occupational backgrounds (computer engineer, secretary, construction worker, greengrocer, school student, etc.) in Frankfurt am Main.50 Although the small sample size of my single case study51 does not enable me to explore possible gender differences, it may provide the groundwork for more comprehensive research, which could take into account these differences. My interviews were driven by an interest in the interviewees’ views on the issues of citizenship, identity, and sense of belonging. My underlying questions were as follows: (1) Do the interviewees understand their identity to be constructed or as something prediscursively defined by categories such as nation, region, etc.? (2) To what extent do the interviewees mix with those from other cultures, and how willing are they to engage with and learn from them? 3) To what degree are the interviewees selfreflexive, i.e., do they see their own perspectives as partial and are they willing to see the world through the eyes of others? Four Stories of Belonging under Conditions of Denationalization Annalisa Corradi, a small, delicate, neat woman in her thirties, greets me in her immaculate apartment. She came to Frankfurt at the age of six and worked for many years as a hairdresser before marrying an Italian waiter who has recently taken over his own pizzeria. She is now a housewife and the mother of two children. Her story is one of success, of moving up the ladder step by hard-earned step. One of the signs of her ambition lies in the fact that she has sent her children to a private school to learn “good German,” which in state schools is “impossible because of the huge number of foreign kids.” Annalisa’s German and Italian personae come to the fore at different times.52 Mobility, Migrants, and Solidarity 421 I can be an Italian here; I can be a German. . . . What am I? Everything, everything, I am surely an Italian, obviously, . . . but ah, when I have to play the German role, then I play the German role, no problem.53 Annalisa displays a self-conscious ability to play different “identity” roles and to switch between them “autonomously.” Accordingly, she has no essentializing conception of cultural and national self-understandings and seems aware of their “constructedness.” Riccardo Dente gives a rather different impression. Big, well-dressed, and jovial, he breaks into a fleeting smile when he finds something funny about the stories he tells me. At forty, he runs a law firm with twenty employees on one of the most elegant streets in Frankfurt, but he evidently prefers to be “one of the boys” rather than play the role of the “big boss.” He moved to Germany with his father, a physician from Friuli, when he was five years old, after the death of his mother, a Neapolitan musician. Riccardo is now married to a German woman and has four children. He clearly enjoys being at the center of attention, underlining his selfconsciously Italian savoir vivre with somewhat theatrical gestures, even though he speaks German with a strong Hessian accent. In the middle of recounting his life story he says, If I had either the fortune or the misfortune of . . . making a clear choice: . . . I am clearly an Italian and a German, then I would also say‚ yes, I am politically European, and culturally German.54 What is most salient about this statement is Riccardo’s caution when using his identity categories, his unproblematic (even slightly positive) view on apparently confusing, ambivalent belongings: he “is” Italian, politically European, and culturally German. I interview Armando Guerri in the back room of the tiny food shop run by his parents. Short of stature and solidly built, the nineteen-year-old apprentice hotelier calls himself a “typical third-generation immigrant brat.” He seems at ease with a “hyphenated” or “pastiche” Italian-German identity, an identity that extends even to his gestures and ways of talking. Armando was born in Frankfurt but spent two years at elementary school in Sicily, where he stayed with his grandmother. He is keen to emphasize that 422 Re c on f ig u ri n g t h e Nat i on - Stat e his friends are “international.” When he goes back to his village in Sicily during the summer, he feels just as at home as he does in Frankfurt, but then, as he points out with a smile, more than half of the other guys are also migrants and normally live in Germany or Holland. He believes that non-EU immigrants can benefit from German citizenship, but he himself, being Italian (i.e., an EU citizen), does not need it, even if this means that he cannot vote in the national elections. He is happy with his right to vote in the local Kommunal elections. In my case . . . Italy is in the EU . . . so I have no problems. I don’t know why I should want German citizenship when I have . . . just as many rights as a German. That is, aside from voting, but otherwise, I find, I have no disadvantages as EU-citizen, a fellow citizen.55 His discourse on European citizenship is based on rights and “legal advantages,” not on some idea of a shared essentialistic identity or common European culture that non-Europeans do not share. In his narrative there are no such boundaries between “us” and “them,” between “friends” and “enemies.” For Armando, “European” seems to mean “international” or “intercultural.” For him, what counts is the way someone is as a person, regardless of his national or cultural identity. This is a theme that repeatedly recurs in all the interviews. Armando can see himself living in other European countries—but also beyond, for example, in America. He can also see himself having an African or Moroccan girlfriend. Indeed, rather than excluding non-EU migrants from his European discourse, he tends to place a high value on encountering different cultures. He is also able to put himself in the shoes of non-EU migrants. For example, he tells me that if he were Turkish, he would want German citizenship because non-EU migrants have fewer rights. Well, if I were from Turkey . . . I would want to have German citizenship . . . because I know, as a Turk, . . . one doesn’t have as many advantages as an Italian in Germany. I feel European, a hundred percent.56 Armando feels quite happy with the plurality of coexisting national identities and seems aware of their dynamic constructedness. Depending on the context, he can navigate now as the “third-generation immigrant in Frankfurt” (focusing on common intercultural experience); now stressing Mobility, Migrants, and Solidarity 423 his Germanness (for example, when he is with someone from his Sicilian village who hasn’t gone abroad); now his Italian origins (for example, when he watches football with his friends—they all “play” with their own and each others’ different origins). In his everyday life, Armando draws on his knowledge of different cultures and languages, mixing them and picking out the good elements from both. Teresa Pedrini is a pretty, stylish nineteen-year-old, full of energy but seemingly uneasy about her life. She left high school (Gymnasium) a year before taking the final examinations, the Abitur, a decision she now regrets. She works part-time in a clothes shop and plans to go back to the Gymnasium and then to Italy to carry on her studies. Teresa’s life story is one of transnational coming and going, a pattern more typical of Italian than, say, Turkish or Spanish migrants. She was born in Frankfurt, but just after her eighth birthday the whole family returned to Lecce. It was there that Teresa spent what she calls her “important years” in terms of socialization. After seven years, however, her father lost his job and the family decided to go back to Frankfurt. Despite extreme difficulties at the Gymnasium, she felt immediately socially accepted by the members of her class, the majority of whom were foreigners. No, no, no, there was no real difference between students. . . . You can say that they were all Germans, no matter whether one was [also] a foreigner, Italian, Spanish, Portuguese. . . .57 Teresa, like many of the other interviewees, tells me that her friends are “Germans, Spaniards, Moroccans, Turks, French, and English.” She emphasizes that there were no differences between them and that they were all fundamentally “Germans” regardless of their background. At the same time, however, Teresa’s narrative underlines cultural diversity, stressing in particular her own Italian identity, as well as the fact that encountering all these different cultures was an enriching experience. At school she and her classmates would often discuss what was happening in their different countries of origin and that by taking from the ways of life, the cultures, the religions of others, they broadened their own cultures, and their horizons. She describes this as important for her “personal learning processes.” Although she otherwise speaks highly of her friends in Lecce, she criticizes them for being somewhat “racist” towards the Albanians and Turks who arrive on the Italian coast. Although her words belie a degree of nostalgia 424 Re c on f ig u ri n g t h e Nat i on -Stat e for Lecce, she underscores the fact that she has no problem with living as a foreigner in Germany or with the many cultures of her peers. It is enriching [in Germany] . . . because you have contact with Germans, with Moroccans, Turks, and many other nationalities and from each nationality you derive a life style, a culture, a religion that enrich your own. . . .58 For Teresa and for all of those from her age group who were interviewed by me, “European” describes the mixing and encountering of different cultures that she experiences in her Frankfurt life. For her, the unification of Europe was present all along in her classroom. Sincerely speaking, [European unification] is very significant . . . because before I ever distinguish between countries, for me Europe was already united. [When] you live in Germany, you have many friends of different races . . . therefore European unification for me was already happening on a small scale [in class]. . . . I hope that it continues in this way.59 Towards a Situated Postnational European Citizenship As to their self-understanding (my first question), the interviewees indicated that they do not feel “uprooted” but rather feel rooted in two cultures. This is perhaps the most striking feature of the interviews and of the literature: the ambivalence of the interviewees’ sense of belonging and their awareness that their identities are multiple and constructed, not ready-made or pregiven by any national or cultural bond. All interviewees reject the either/or classifications of collective identity, which are typical of ready-made conceptions (e.g., the underlying idea of a pregiven identity, which was an important feature of the German debate about dual citizenship). Having developed a certain predisposition to perceive themselves from an intercultural and transnational perspective, migrants are “betwixt and between.”60 They emphasize the fact that they are both foreign (e.g., Italian) and German, and most express an ambivalent but strongly situated idea of citizenship and identity. My interviewees, especially those who attended school in Germany, enact ambivalent self-understandings (simultaneously Italian, German, and “international”) but—and in this they differ from their Turkish peers—often spontaneously deem themselves “European” when asked about citizenship issues. Unlike Turkish migrants, they are citizens of an EU member state and say that because of Mobility, Migrants, and Solidarity 425 the “legal advantages” of being an EU citizen they “do not need” German citizenship. As to the degree of openness (my second question), all of my interviewees see this kind of plural belonging and intercultural interaction as enriching. They emphasize that people with different origins can go beyond encounters with others and mix with each other interculturally by actively learning from each other. While they recognize that such encounters can involve conflict or other difficulties, all seem to agree that attempts at mutual understanding and learning are important experiences, which contribute to one’s development as a person. They emphasize that we should learn to treat all people “equally.” Some of them explicitly refuse to draw boundaries between (other) foreigners, Italians, and Germans, but make clear that this equality should not obliterate cultural differences. Such an open and “constructed” self is a crucial presupposition for transnational citizenship practices. As to the degree of reflexivity (my third question), my interviews show that exposure to a plural situatedness somehow relativizes the attachment to one’s roots. Multiple belongings do not seem to lead to a sort of abstract or detached postnational identity but to a more reflexive, although situated, sense of belonging. The collective identity of migrants is ambivalent and relativized, while their personal identity is strong but flexible— and not at all uncommitted. Their capacity to move among multiple identities according to the context of social interaction is accompanied by a striking willingness (spontaneously expressed in the narratives) to change perspective in order to try to see the world through others’ eyes. Some, for example, say that if they were Turkish (i.e., if they were not to have EU citizenship), they too would ask for German citizenship in order to have the same rights as Germans or migrants from EU member states. Two older interviewees, for example, emphasized that today the Turks or the asylum seekers in Germany or the Albanians and Kurds who arrive on the coast of Puglia are like the Italian migrants of the 1960s. Almost all interviewees, especially the younger ones, emphasize EU citizenship in civic-political terms; thus boundaries become arbitrary or “constructed.”61 Their accounts display a “pastiche” self-understanding and a multilayered conception of citizenship, which is surprisingly conscious of the legal status of Union citizenship. I end this section with an extract from the interview with Chiara Gambaro, a small, lively greengrocer at the Kleinmarkthalle, a huge multicultural food and vegetable market. At thirty-eight, she seems 426 Re c on f ig u ri n g t h e Nat i on - Stat e uninterested in her appearance, but emanates warmth and a quick intelligence. When she was twelve years old, she came to Frankfurt with her parents, both workers from Agrigento (Sicily). At twenty, she married a Sicilian and now has two sons. During the interview she expresses a strong interest in both Italian and German politics. Certain of the fact that she has the “same rights” as a German citizen (apart from national voting rights), she, like all other interviewees, is uninterested in German citizenship. Chiara’s idea of citizens’ rights is detached from questions of identity. Several times she emphasizes the fact that she likes working in the multicultural context of the Kleinmarkthalle and is especially fond of her Kurdish friends, for whose political troubles in Turkey she expresses much sympathy. Chiara likes going back to Sicily, but also dislikes the fact that people of different social status are treated differently there when they go to an office, to a bank, or to the doctor. Like two other middle-aged female interviewees from southern Italy, she also emphasizes the fact that women in their home country are “less free.” As important features of European identity, Chiara stresses “equality between men and women,” as well as among all people regardless of where they come from, as a distinctive quality of European citizenship. To her, Europe reaches out and can include “threatened” Kurds, “oppressed” Indian women, and nonEuropeans (“extracomunitari”), thereby blurring boundaries drawn by EU citizenship between individuals from member states and individuals from “third” states: We are all European, no? I think so. . . . In my opinion, feeling like a European is feeling free, independent, not like some nations of the world like India where [people] have no rights, as women, for example. . . . We Europeans have rights, we are democratic. . . . We are international, we are truly European, and even the non-Europeans living here have adapted a bit as well.62 As we have seen from these interviews, under conditions of multiple belongings, cultural and national identity can become more “relativized” and reflexive. Reflexivity, the insight that one’s own perspective is partial and that the perspective of others is potentially equally valid, is crucial for the idea of trust and solidarity across national or cultural boundaries. My data provides some evidence that the sociocultural presuppositions for a transnational solidarity based upon the recognition of difference can be Mobility, Migrants, and Solidarity 427 obtained in many contexts, and can be fostered in others, for example, by institutionalized citizenship practices promoting cultural self-reflexivity, openness to diversity, and cross-national political dialogue. III. Considering the Future of Women’s Citizenship and the Rights of non-EU National Residents in the European Union As we have seen, Union citizenship, both in law and in practice, implies the dissociation of nationality (belonging) and citizenship (legal status)— a dissociation that has the potential to foster trust and solidarity independent of national affiliations. The recognition of the alien as a fellow citizen is a basic challenge of Union citizenship. Union citizenship creates an explicitly political status and it does so without relying on a constitutional European demos. It offers to the citizens of the member states a new and additional “we,” which creates a bond among individuals who accept that they are and remain alien to each other. Situated in one or more nationstate contexts and cultures, they are conscious of a more abstract sphere of communication about common goals among strangers. The European Union is a political space without demos, based on the solidarity of citizens who are able to reflect their otherness. But can Union citizenship be considered truly postnational?63 And is it gender sensitive? Union citizenship, as defined by the treaty, is on the one hand inclusive for EU nationals, potentially fostering multiple loyalties among them; on the other hand, however, it by definition excludes nonEU nationals residing in the European Union from political participation. Union citizenship has created a “two-tiered status of foreignness”:64 the discrepancy between those who are foreign nationals but EU citizens and those who are third-country nationals has deepened. Although the integration of the latter into the European Union’s rights regime is rather advanced,65 citizenship of the Union is still unavailable to them. As yet, it is unclear whether Union citizenship will ultimately replace the rights and duties specific in the national context, whether it will simply complement national law, or whether the concept of citizenship will “evolve” as such, namely, in a liberal-democratic rather than (supra)national way. These two tiers of foreignness give rise to a division between a political community and a transnational economic and social community: as yet, non-EU citizens benefit only from certain citizenship rights, namely, those that are not intrinsically linked to nationality of a member state. 428 Re c on f ig u ri n g t h e Nat i on -Stat e Although they are de jure not EU citizens, they are entitled to some civil, economic, and social rights.66 The clear distinction between insiders and outsiders is particularly challenged by a curious position regarding rights to social security within the European Union.67 Moreover, the Charter of Fundamental Rights of the European Union, signed in Nice in 2000, is reacting to injustices of social exclusion by establishing rights of solidarity.68 Although the “citizen” behind the charter is clearly a gendered person and European (not global), it allows for an understanding of “citizenship as critical positioning,” which does not focus on belonging to nations, “avoids explicit sexing of subjects and opens up spaces for the inclusion of sexual minorities.”69 Remarkably, the ECJ has been making fewer and fewer distinctions between EU citizens and non-EU third-country nationals. For example, in the Zhu and Chen case, a Chinese woman decided to travel to Belfast in order to give birth to her daughter, having deliberately chosen Belfast because anyone born in Northern Ireland acquires Irish nationality and is thus a Union citizen, with the right to move freely to Cardiff in Wales.70 Ms. Chen invoked the right of residence deriving from that of her daughter. In order not to reduce the monopoly powers of the member states with regard to the determination of nationality, the court notably held that Zhu satisfied the sufficient-resources condition for the right of free movement only via her Chinese mother who, as her primary caregiver, also gained an indefinite right of residence. Ultimately, both mother’s and daughter’s rights to remain in the United Kingdom were vindicated. The Zhu and Chen case plants an important seed for the realization of the rights not only of third-country nationals residing in the European Union, generally, but also the subgroup of those nationals who are women, in particular. The case demonstrates how women may be able to use transnational forms of citizenship and entitlements to increase their mobility and gain rights. Notwithstanding this far-reaching judgment, however, we have to acknowledge that for non-EU nationals there are, as of yet, no political rights: they are still unable to vote or to run in local, national, and European elections. Welfare and employment rights do not make them “partial European citizens” from a legal point of view. Parallel to the process of “integration through law,” i.e., through rules, court decisions, and agreements, formal and informal citizenship practices are taking place at the European level through social movements and transnational policy networks (e.g., the European Women’s Lobby, the Mobility, Migrants, and Solidarity 429 women members for trade unions, the European Network against Racism, the European Coordination for Foreigners’ Right to Family Life). Scholars have emphasized these “soft” forms of participation in EU institutions as well as transnational associations and networks, which challenge national citizenship as the main access, as well as sign of membership and alliances, to a political community. The potential for third-country voices to be heard in EU policymaking as a result of the participation of transnational networks suggests that we may indeed be moving toward “a potentially progressive source of post-national rights.”71 As Valentine Moghadam’s chapter in this volume discusses, women have successfully used transnational feminist networks (TFNs) to vindicate their rights in the Middle East, North Africa, and around the world.72 TFNs may similarly play a role in ensuring that any postnational citizenship that emerges in the European Union includes equal political and civil rights for women migrants both from within and from outside of the Union. At the beginning of the 1990s, the European Parliament gave subsidies to a transnational structure called “Migrants’ Forum” to induce non-EU nationals to coordinate their actions beyond the national level and to integrate them into the European Union. By claiming equality of rights and treatment, third-country nationals were striving to promote their status as “European citizens” in the newly shaped political arena.73 But, although it is remarkable that the European Union does not use EU citizenship to exclude non-EU citizens from “soft” forms of participation, further-reaching expectations that the EU’s migration regime might be a source for a postnational polity can empirically not be supported.74 The debate on the European Constitution was relaunched by the German president of the European Council in early 2007. Renewed negotiation brought with it an opportunity to intervene on multiple levels in European civil society and the transnational public space.75 Title II of the as yet unratified Reform Treaty (or “Lisbon Treaty”) includes an article on “provisions on democratic principles,” which establishes a clear connection between a “regular dialogue” with civil society and democratic governance in the European Union.76 This article would oblige all European institutions to be transparent and open to consultation. If this article enters into force, reflections about the inclusion of civil society organizations in EU policymaking processes will inevitably gain momentum. The transformative changes in the meaning of Union citizenship are better understood as processes, not as immediate effects of the formal 430 Re c on f ig u ri n g t h e Nat i on - Stat e enactment of a legal status. These changes will depend on judicial and political interpretations of citizenship at the national and European level, as well as on people’s sense of European citizenship. As Ute Gerhard has recently argued, “with regard to the integration already achieved through law and citizenship practice, women,” and we may add migrants, “in Europe have more to win than to lose.”77 As yet, however, both the goal of European integration and the nature of European citizenship is an openended project, the outcome of which is unknown. Notes 1. I would like to thank Talia Inlender and Chavi Kenney Nana for their excellent editing, as well as Talia Inlender, Judith Resnik, and the editor at NYU Press, Deborah Gershenowitz, for their helpful suggestions. Thanks also to Hannah Müller for library assistance. 2. Ettore Recchi, “Migrants and Europeans: An Outline of the Free Movement of Persons in the EU,” 38 AMID Working Paper Series (Aalborg, Denmark: Academy for Migration Studies in Denmark, 2005), available at http://www.amid.dk/ pub/papers/AMID_38-2005_Recchi.pdf. 3. See generally Jane Freedman, ed., Gender and Insecurity: Migrant Women in Europe (Aldershot, UK: Ashgate Publishing, 2003). 4. See Monika Mattes, “Gastarbeiterinnen,” in der Bundesrepublik Anwerbepolitik, Migration und Geschlecht in den 50er bis 70er Jahren (Frankfurt/Main, Germany: Campus Verlag 2005). 5. The as-yet-unratified Reform Treaty (or Treaty of Lisbon) replaces the “European Constitution” that was drafted by a Constitutional Convention under the auspices of the European Council. Remarkably, the Constitutional Convention was open for comments by civil society organizations and citizens. Deliberations were public and a website for comments was established. However, the actual composition of the convention was clearly male dominated: only seventeen out of a total of 107 members were women. Following the failed referenda on the draft EU Constitutional Treaty in France and the Netherlands in 2005, a Reform Treaty was signed by EU leaders at a special summit in Lisbon on 13 December 2007. The Reform Treaty deliberately dropped all constitutional symbolism once included in the draft Constitutional Treaty. Treaty of Lisbon Amending the Treaty on European Union and the Treaty Establishing the European Community, available at http://www.consilium.europa.eu/uedocs/cmsUpload/cg00014.en07.pdf. 6. In the spring of 2004, ten new member states joined the European Union: Cyprus, the Czech Republic, Estonia, Hungary, Latvia, Lithuania, Malta, Poland, Slovakia, and Slovenia. On January 1, 2007, Romania and Bulgaria joined the European Union. Mobility, Migrants, and Solidarity 431 7. Treaty on European Union and Final Act art. 8-8E, Feb. 7, 1992, O.J. (C 224) (1992), reprinted in 31 I.L.M. 247 (1992) [hereinafter Maastricht Treaty]. These ideas are included in Articles 17–22 in the Amsterdam revisions to the Maastricht Treaty. 8. Ulrich K. Preuss, “Two Challenges to European Citizenship,” in Constitutionalism in Transformation: European and Theoretical Perspectives, eds. Richard Bellamy and Dario Castiglione, 139 (Oxford: Blackwell, 1996). 9. Andreas Føllesdal, “Citizenship: Global and European,” in Global Citizenship: A Critical Reader, eds. Nigel Dower and John Williams, 73 (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2002). 10. In October 1997, the Amsterdam Treaty introduced amendments to the principle of European citizenship in Articles 17 and 21 (formerly Articles 8 and 8[d]). The Amsterdam Treaty states that “citizenship of the Union shall complement and not replace national citizenship.” Treaty of Amsterdam Amending the Treaty on European Union, the Treaties Establishing the European Communities and Certain Related Acts arts. 17, 21, Oct. 2, 1997, 1997 O.J. (C 340). 11. Article 21 of the Charter of Fundamental Rights of the European Union (hereinafter EU Charter) states that “any discrimination based on any ground such as sex, race, colour, ethnic or social origin, genetic features, language, religion or belief, political or any other opinion, membership of a national minority, property, birth, disability, age or sexual orientation shall be prohibited.” Charter of Fundamental Rights of the European Union art. 21, Dec. 1, 2000, 2000 O.J. (C 364) 1, available at http://www.europarl.europa.eu/ charter/pdf/text_en.pdf. 12. Article 23 of the EU Charter states that “equality between men and women must be ensured in all areas, including employment, work and pay.” Ibid., art. 23. 13. Sandra Fredman, “Transformation or Dilution: Fundamental Rights in the EU Social Space,” European Law Journal 12(1) (2006): 41–60. 14. See, for example, Elspeth Guild, The Legal Elements of European Identity: EU Citizenship and Migration Law (The Hague: Kluwer Law International, 2005). 15. Migrants from EU member states are entitled to family reunification. In fact, the ECJ has been so protective of those seeking family reunification (and, in particular, protecting these individuals against member states’ restrictive policies towards their own nationals) that it has created an incentive for European citizens to use their free movement rights in order to establish a right to family reunification with third-country national family members. However, no such solution appears in sight for Europe’s migrants who are third-country nationals. Ibid., ch. 6. 16. In the Nottebohm case, the International Court of Justice ruled that nationality is a legal bond having at its basis a social fact of attachment, a genuine connection of existence, interests and sentiments, together with the existence of reciprocal rights and duties. It may be said to constitute the juridical 432 Re c on f ig u ri n g t h e Nat i on - Stat e expression of the fact that the individual upon whom it is conferred . . . is in fact more closely connected with the population of the State conferring nationality than with any other State. (Nottebohm Case [Liechtenstein v. Guatemala], 1955 I.C.J. 4, 23 [Judgment of April 6, 1955]) 17. The EU member states use different combinations of the cultural/ethnic and territorial criteria for determining national citizenship. 18. Ulrich K. Preuss and Ferran Requejo, eds., European Citizenship, Multiculturalism, and the State, 8 (Baden-Baden, Germany: Nomos Verlag, 1998). 19. Clause Offe and Ulrich K. Preuss, “The Problem of Legitimacy in the European Polity: Is Democratization the Answer?” in The Diversity of Democracy: Corporatism, Social Order, and Political Conflict, eds. Colin Crouch and Wolfgang Streeck, 175–204 (Cheltenham, UK: Edward Elgar, 2006). 20. See Catherine Dauvergne’s chapter in this volume, “Globalizing Fragmentation: New Pressures on Women Caught in the Immigration Law–Citizenship Law Dichotomy.” For other examples, see Chiara Saraceno, “Constructing Europe, Constructing European Citizenship: Contradictory Trends,” in Will Europe Work? Integration, Employment, and the Social Order, eds. Martin Kohli and Mojca Nowak, 127–41 (London: Routledge, 2001); Ute Gerhard, “European Citizenship: A Political Opportunity for Women?,” in Women’s Citizenship and Political Rights, eds. Sirkku Hellsten, Anne Maria Holli, and Krassimira Daskalova, 37–52 (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2006). 21. It is important to emphasize that the ECJ does not actually decide cases. It simply answers a set of questions posed by the national courts, which the latter deem to be necessary for the purpose of resolving an issue of European law, which arises before it. The preliminary reference procedure does not guarantee the “right” interpretation and enforcement of EC law at the national level. 22. Case 26/2, van Gend & Loos v. Netherlands Inland Revenue Administration, [1963] E.C.R. 1. 23. Case 29/69, Stauder v. Stadt Ulm Sozialamt, [1969] E.C.R. 419, para. 7. 24. See, for example, Geduldig v. Aiello, 417 U.S. 484 (1974) (holding that exclusion from disability benefits due to pregnancy does not constitute an equal protection violation under the U.S. Constitution). See also Claire Kilpatrick, “Emancipation through Law or Emasculation of Law? The Nation-State, the EU, and Gender Equality at Work,” in Labour Law in an Era of Globalization: Transformative Practices and Possibilities, eds. Joanne Conaghan, Richard Michael Fischl, and Karl Klare, 489–509 (New York: Oxford University Press, 2004). 25. Case C-177/88, Dekker v. Stichting Vormingscentrum voor Jong Volwassen (VJV Centrum), [1990] E.C.R. I-3941. 26. Case C-274/96, Criminal Proceedings against Horst Otto Bickel & Ulrich Franz, [1998] E.C.R. I-7637. Mobility, Migrants, and Solidarity 433 27. Case C-413/99, Baumbast & R. v. Sec’y of State for the Home Dep’t, 2002 E.C.R. I-7091, para. 81. 28. James D. Mather, “The Court of Justice and the Union Citizen,” European Law Journal 11(6) (2005): 730. 29. However, the ECJ always held that the right in Article 18 of the EC Treaty is not unconditional and is dependent upon the terms of various limitations and conditions laid down elsewhere in the treaty, its secondary legislation, and even national and international provisions. 30. Thomas H. Marshall, Citizenship and Social Class: And Other Essays (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1950). 31. Case C-85/96, Martinez Sala v. Freistaat Bayern, [1998] E.C.R. I-2691. 32. See Jo Shaw, “Gender and the European Court of Justice,” in The European Court of Justice, eds. Grainne de Burca and J. H. H. Weiler, 141 (New York: Oxford University Press, 2001); Louise Ackers, “Citizenship, Migration, and the Valuation of Care in the European Union,” Journal of Ethnic and Migration Studies 30(2) (2004): 373–96. 33. Case C-184/99, Grzelczyk v. Centre public d’aide sociale d’OttigniesLouvain-la-Neuve, [2001] E.C.R. I-6193, para. 31. 34. Ibid. 35. Guild, The Legal Elements of European Identity: EU Citizenship and Migration Law, supra note 14, 240. 36. Case C-138/02, Collins v. Sec’y of State for Work and Pensions, [2004] E.C.R. I-2703. 37. Stephan Wernicke, “‘Au nom de qui?’ The European Court of Justice between Member States, Civil Society, and Union Citizens,” European Law Journal 13(3) (2007): 380–407. 38. For a discussion, see Linda Bosniak, “Denationalizing Citizenship,” in Citizenship: Comparisons and Perspectives, eds. T. Alexander Aleinikoff and Douglas B. Klusmeyer (Washington, DC: Carnegie Endowment for International Peace, 2001). 39. “Ideology” is intended here to point to social structures, which are reflected in people’s narratives about themselves and society. Ideologies are the result of historical processes and social events and thus exist independent of any single individual. For discussions of ideology, see Theodor W. Adorno, Else Frenkel-Brunswik, Daniel J. Levinson, and R. Nevitt Sanford, The Authoritarian Personality (New York: Harper & Bros., 1950); Karl Mannheim, Ideology and Utopia: An Introduction to the Sociology of Knowledge (New York: Harcourt Brace, 1949). 40. In 1999, the Social Democratic government passed a new citizenship law, which allowed for the first time for ius soli citizenship. It paved the way for “guest workers” to seek citizenship. The new act gives automatic citizenship to 434 Re c on f ig u ri n g t h e Nat i on -Stat e children born in Germany to foreign residents. Because of this shift in Germany from the ius sanguinis principle toward a residence-based one, Germany provides a useful case study. See Gesetz zur Reform des Staatsangehörigkeitsrechts [Act to Amend the Nationality Law], July 15, 1999, BGBl. I at 1618, art. 1, no. 3 (F.R.G.). 41. For additional information on Eurobarometer surveys, see their website at http://ec.europa.eu/public_opinion/index_en.htm (last accessed April 26, 2007). 42. Lauren M. McLaren, “Immigration and the New Politics of Inclusion and Exclusion in the European Union: The Effects of Elites and the EU on Individual-Level Opinions regarding European and Non-European Immigrants,” European Journal of Political Research 39(1) (2001): 81–108. 43. Jack Citrin and John M. Sides, “More Than Nationals: How Identity Choice Matters in the New Europe,” in Transnational Identities: Becoming European in the EU, eds. Richard K. Herrmann, Thomas Risse, and Marilynn B. Brewer, 166–67 (Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield, 2004). 44. Michael Bruter, “Civic and Cultural Components of a European Identity: A Pilot Model of Measurement of Citizens’ Levels of European Identity,” in Transnational Identities: Becoming European in the EU, supra note 43, 204. 45. Ibid., 182. 46. Ibid. 47. Among respondents, Germans were the most pessimistic about the future: 36 percent of male and 37 percent of female Germans surveyed agreed that the “future was rather gloomy.” Of the foreign respondents, 35 percent of male Turks and 26 percent of female Turks agreed with the statement, while 26 percent of male Italians and 23 percent of female Italians agreed. See Deutsche Shell, ed., Jugend 2000, vol. 1 (Opladen, Germany: Leske & Budrich, 2000), 27. 48. Ursula Boos-Nünning and Yasemin Karakasoglu, Viele Welten. Zur Lebenssituation von Mädchen und jungen Frauen mit Migrationshintergrund (Münster, Germany: Waxmann Verlag, 2005); Cordula Weissköppel, Ausländer und Kartoffeldeutsche. Identitätsperformanz im Alltag einer ethnisch gemischten Realschulklasse (Weinheim, Germany: Juventa-Verlag, 2001). In terms of qualitative studies, there is quite a lot of literature on Turkish migrants and very little on other migrant groups (Italian, Spanish, Portuguese, etc.). 49. By “Italian denizens,” I mean Italian (non-German) citizens who are legally resident in Germany. My focus is on the emergence of a specifically European dimension in collective identity, and as such, it made sense to center my inquiry on migrants from an EU member state. 50. Frankfurt is a multicultural city in the Land of Hessen with a population of over six hundred thousand. A center of international finance and labor mobility, it ranks fifth among the world’s “global cities.” See Saskia Sassen, Cities of a World Economy (Sociology for a New Century) (Thousand Oaks, CA: Pine Forge Press, 1994). At 30 percent, the proportion of non-German inhabitants in Frankfurt is higher than in any other German city. After Turks and nationals of the Mobility, Migrants, and Solidarity 435 former Yugoslavia, Italians—with 13,500 residents—are the third largest group of foreigners and the largest group of nationals from an EU member state. 51. Thirty potential interview candidates were randomly selected from a list provided by the Italian consulate. Using the technique of minimal and maximal contrasting (Grounded Theory), I drew a “theoretical sample” of fifteen from the short list, ensuring that the selection was balanced in terms of sex, age, occupation, education, and time spent in Germany. I established a minimum of five years. Of these fifteen people, seven were men and eight women; four were under twenty years old, eight were between thirty and forty-five years old, and three were over sixty years old. When I contacted these fifteen people, twelve agreed to be interviewed about “how migrants live and think today.” For more details on the methodology and setting, see Patrizia Nanz, Europolis: Constitutional Patriotism beyond the Nation-State (Manchester, UK: Manchester University Press, 2006), ch. 7. 52. To make the interviewees comfortable, I let them choose the language in which to speak. Perhaps it helped that I am myself half Italian and was raised bilingually in Germany. 53. Original transcript follows: “Ich bin hier, äh, ja, ich kann hier Italienerin sein, ich kann hier Deutsche sein. Was ich bin? Alles, alles, ich bin schon Italienerin, klar logisch, aber äh, wenn ich heute die deutsche Rolle spielen soll, dann spiel’ ich die deutsche Rolle, kein Problem.” 54. Original transcript follows: “Aber, wenn ich das Glück oder das Pech hätte, wie man’s nimmt, ja, ‘ne klare Zuweisung zu sagen, ich bin deutlich Italiener, ich bin Deutscher, dann würde ich ‘ja’ dazu sagen, politisch Europäer, kulturell Deutscher. ” 55. Original transcript follows: “Bei mir, bei mir ist es halt, Italien ist halt in der EU, und ich hab’ halt keine Probleme, ich wüsste auch nicht, warum ich, äh, die deutsche Staatsbürgerschaft annehmen sollte, ich hab’ genauso viele Rechte so gesehen als wie die Deutschen. Also, außer das mit den Wahlen, aber ansonsten, find ich, hab’ ich keine Benachteiligung als, äh, EU-Staats, also Mitbürger.” 56. Original transcript follows: “Also, wär’ ich, was weiß ich, aus der Türkei oder so würd‘ ich dann schon die, äh, die deutsche Staatsbürgerschaft annehmen wollen. Weil, äh, ich weiß nicht, als Türke hat man, ich weiß nicht, nicht so viele Vorteile wie wenn man Italiener ist in Deutschland. Ich fühl’ mich als Europäer, also hundertprozentig.” 57. Original transcript follows: “Con tutti, cioè io non, non faccio differenze ormai. No, no, no, non c’era nessuna distinzione cioè proprio tra ragazzi questo non esisteva, cioè non esiste proprio, tutti sono si può dire tutti tedeschi, è uguale se adesso sei straniero, italiano, spagnolo, portoghese.” 58. Original transcript follows: “E’ un arricchimento sì, assolutamente, perché stai a contatto con tedeschi, con marocchini, con turchi, con tante altre nazionalità e da ogni nazionalità prendi un vivere, un modo di vivere, una cultura, una religione cioè ampli anche il tuo, la tua cultura, la propria cultura personale.” 436 Re c on f ig u ri n g t h e Nat i on - Stat e 59. Original transcript follows: “Io sinceramente, [l’unificazione dell’Europa] ha un grande significato, si, assolutamente, però che adesso abbiano unificato l’Europa per me già prima, cioè per me personalmente, no adesso per me come paese, ma per me personalmente, perchè prima non avevo mai fatto queste distinzioni tra tutti questi paesi per me era già unita l’Europa. Eh si, perchè, perché tu vivi in Germania, vivi in Germania, hai tanti amici di tante razze, quindi l’unificazione dell’Europa per me c’era già, nel piccolo naturalmente, sperando che continui in questo modo.” 60. We can, for example, also observe more subversive ways of coping with double belonging: by enacting a mix of cultural (and often linguistic) tokens in daily interaction, young immigrants blur the boundaries of sociocultural and national identities within the space of a nation-state. By emphasizing their “Turkishness,” for example, “ethnic” hip-hop groups of the 1990s subvert their “otherization” as “Turks.” Similar to the use of “nigger” in Black American hiphop lyrics they, for instance, transform the contemptuous term “Kanake,” which Germans use to insult Turks, into a discursive weapon against discrimination and marginalization. They combine elements of global youth rebellion, like rap music, “cool” modes of dressing, and aggressive (macho) behavior with expressions of “Turkishness” as a device against demands for assimilation: “I’m not the black man / I’m not the white man / I’m just the type between them / I’m a Turkish man in a foreign land.” Lyrics from a rap song in English by the Turkish Power Boys in Frankfurt, see Hermann Tertilt, Turkish Power Boys: Ethnographie einer Jugendbande (Frankfurt/Main, Germany: Suhrkamp Verlag, 1996). 61. The only interviewee whose boundary drawing is firmly based on cultural and ethnic criteria (and who, as a consequence, displays a sort of federalist Euronationalism) is Marco Cimino, a 39-year-old. He came to Germany at the age of eighteen because he wanted to earn money to buy a house in Foggia. In fact, Marco remained in Germany, marrying a Portuguese woman and eventually becoming an electrician at the Historical Museum of Frankfurt. As an EU citizen, he tells me he could even become a “Beamter” (civil servant). When talking about his first job, Marco describes his Turkish colleagues in negative terms. He was happier once he had changed jobs and found himself working with Spaniards, Portuguese, and Greeks (also Germans). It is they, with whom he has lived and worked since, that he views as “European foreigners.” This positive identification (e.g., between Italian and Spanish migrants in Germany), which refers to processes of inclusion among Europeans and the creation of a European citizenship, goes hand in hand with negative identification (e.g., of Turkish migrants), which involves the drawing of (more or less rigid) boundaries and processes of exclusion of “non-European” foreigners. 62. Original transcript follows: “Siamo tutti europei no? Io penso di sì, siamo europei. . . . europei, secondo me, sentirsi europei è sentirsi liberi, indipendenti, non come certe nazioni del mondo come l’India che non c’hai nessun diritto, da Mobility, Migrants, and Solidarity 437 donna ad esempio, e che cavolo, sembriamo nel 1600, nel 1500, noi europei abbiamo i diritti, abbiamo gli stess-cioè siamo democratici ecco, per me è quello. Siamo internazionali, siamo europei veramente, e anche extracomunitari diciamo, vivendo qua si sono un po’ adeguati anche loro.” 63. Yasemin Nuhoglu Soysal, Limits of Citizenship: Migrants and Postnational Membership in Europe (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1994); Theodora Kostakopoulou, “Towards a Theory of Constructive Citizenship in Europe,” Journal of Political Philosophy 4 (1996): 337–56; Riva Kastoryano, “Transnational Networks and Political Participation: The Place of Immigrants in the European Union,” in Europe without Borders: Remapping Territory, Citizenship, and Identity in a Transnational Age, eds. Mabel Berezin and Martin Schain, 64–88 (Baltimore, MD: John Hopkins University Press, 2003). 64. Seyla Benhabib, The Rights of Others: Aliens, Residents, and Citizens (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004), 153. 65. If a third-country national has acquired recognition of status in one member state, she or he is entitled to exercise a right of economic activity and residence in any other member state. She or he can also pursue studies, vocational training, or economically inactive residence (e.g., retirement). 66. In Recep Tetik v. Land Berlin, the ECJ referred to the Association Agreements that exist between the European Union and states that are not members of the Union in ruling that Turkish workers and their families have the right to equal treatment in social security usually afforded to EU citizens. Case C-171/95, Joint Party: The Oberbundesanwalt beim Bundesverwaltungsgericht, [1997] E.C.R. I-329. 67. To be sure, different member states interpret the rights to social and employment benefits in anything but a uniform way. 68. The Reform Treaty, in Article 6, does refer to it as a document with full legal force. 69. Susanne Baer, “Citizenship in Europe and the Construction of Gender by Law in the European Charter of Fundamental Rights,” in Gender and Human Rights, ed. Karen Knop, 112 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004). 70. Case C-200/02, Zhu & Chen v. Sec’y of State for the Home Dep’t, 3 C.M.L.R. 48 (2004) (ECJ). For further discussion of this case from the perspective of children’s rights, see Jacqueline Bhabha, “The ‘Mere Fortuity of Birth?’: Children, Borders, Mothers, and the Meaning of Citizenship,” in this volume. 71. Andrew Geddes, The Politics of Migration and Immigration in Europe (London: Sage, 2003), 26. 72. Valentine Moghadam, “Global Feminism, Citizenship, and the State: Negotiating Women’s Rights in the Middle East and North Africa,” in this volume. 73. Due to internal problems as well as managerial and financial irregularities, this forum lost support by the European Commission and eventually ceased to exist. Currently, there is only loose talk in Brussels about a renewed initiative. 438 Re c on f ig u ri n g t h e Nat i on -Stat e See Andrew Geddes, “Lobbying for Migrant Inclusion in the EU: New Opportunities for Transnational Advocacy?,” Journal of European Public Policy 7(4) (2000): 632–49. 74. Dawid Friedrich and Patrizia Nanz, “The EU’s Civil Society from a Normative-Democratic Point of View: The Case of the EU’s Migration Policy,” in Governance and Civil Society: Theoretical and Empirical Perspectives, eds. Carlo Ruzza and Vincent della Sala, 113–33 (Manchester, UK: Manchester University Press, 2007). 75. For a discussion of the European public sphere, see Patrizia Nanz, “Multiple Voices: An Interdiscursive Concept of the European Public Sphere,” in Public Sphere and Civil Society? Transformations of the European Union, eds. John Erik Fossum, Philip Schlesinger, and Geir Ove Kvaerk (Oslo: ARENA Report, 2007), ch. 1. 76. Reform Treaty, Art. 8 B. 77. Ute Gerhard, “European Citizenship: A Political Opportunity for Women?,” supra note 20, 49. View publication stats