Abstract
Inclusion and exclusion represent the two sides of citizenship’s membership coin. Whereas much of the literature on citizenship has traditionally focused on its inclusionary face, more radical contemporary writings tend to portray citizenship as a force for exclusion. This and the next chapter examine the exclusionary tensions inherent in the concept of citizenship and how they operate at different levels to create non- or partial citizens. These non- or partial citizens can be characterised as ‘those who are excluded from without’ and ‘those who are excluded from within’ specific citizenship communities or nation-states (Yeatman, 1994, p. 80). The former are the subject of this chapter; the latter of Chapter 3.
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Notes and References
See Brubaker (1989, 1990, 1992); Hammar (1990); Baldwin-Edwards (1991a, b); Cesarani and Fulbrook (1996); Morris (1997); Castles and Miller (1998); Castles and Davidson (2000); Kofman et al. (2000).
The distinction between formal and substantive citizenship is made by Hammer (1990, p. 3); that between legal and sociological by Moore (1993).
See Ginsburg (1989, 1994a); Bovenkerk et al. (1990); Cook (1993); Castles and Davidson (2000, ch. 5).
See Lutz (1997); Delanty (1997a); Hansen (2000); Fink et al. (2001).
UN (1995a); UNHCR (2001). The inadequacies of the published data are underlined by Kofman et al. (2000), who provide a thorough overview of female migration in Europe. A gendered analysis can also be found in Morokvasic (1984, 1991, 1993); Buijs (1993); Bhabha and Shutter (1994); Knocke (1995); Lutz (1997); Ackers (1998); Ferreira et al. (1998); Anthias (2000).
Sassen (1998) argues that female migrants now constitute a key source of labour in the globalised economy. The domestic service and sex/marriage industries are among the sectors for which they are recruited (Bakan and Stasiulis (1995); European Women’s Lobby (1995); Anderson (1997, 2000); Lutz (1997); Hochschild (2000); Kofman et al. (2000).
See Morokvasic (1991); Anthias (1992); Anthias and Yuval-Davis (1992); Bhabha and Shutter (1994); Freeman (1995); Knocke (1995); Sales and Gregory (1996); Lutz (1997); Kofman and Sales (1998); Harris (2000) and, in the context of intra-European migration, Ackers (1996, 1998).
The economic context of migration is discussed in Hammar (1990); Simpson (1993); Dirks (1998); Düvell and Jordan (1999). Paul (1991) and Morris (1994) characterise migrants as a reserve army of labour.
European Women’s Lobby (1995). A general account of the tightening of immigration laws can be found in Horsman and Marshall (1994); Williams (1995a); Fekete (1997); Kofman et al. (2000). For the British situation, see, for an historical account, Cohen (1985, 1995) and Lewis (1998), and for contemporary developments, Gordon (1989, 1991); Foley and Nelles (1993); Bhabha and Shutter (1994); Morris (1998).
This, in turn, has led to concern in countries such as South Africa about the poaching of welfare professionals (Guardian Society, 6 June 2001, p. 7).
The nature of the European shutters and their erection by non-accountable inter-governmental agencies is discussed by Paul (1991); Bunyan (1993); Mitchell and Russell (1994); Gallagher (1995); Kveinen (2002). The implications of Fortress Europe for women are explored in European Women’s Lobby (1995); Lutz (1997); Kofman and Sales (1998). The tensions and contradictions involved in EU migration policies are analysed by Morris (1997).
It is also a relatively elite group of Europeans who are best positioned to enjoy this right (Hansen, 2000). Moreover, Bhabha and Shutter (1994) point out how the extension of the right of free movement to certain non-EU, non-resident nationals who are members of EFTA, while longstanding resident non-EU nationals remain excluded, highlights the racialised nature of the hierarchy of rights that has been created. The ways in which the hierarchy is also gendered are explored by Ackers (1994, 1998) who discusses family-based free movement rights and the problems associated with cohabitation and separation or divorce, which mainly affect women. Social rights are portable within the EU for EU nationals in paid employment (and their children) with a derived right for their legally married spouses. Other migrants within the EU, including non-married partners, have only minimal social entitlements.
Gordon (1991, p. 84). The point about symbolic borders is made by Bhavnani (1993), Lutz (1997) and Brah (1993) who also discusses the gendered nature of racism. See also Ginsburg (1989, 1992, 1994a); Cook (1993); Hensen (2000), Marfleet (2001) and for a more general discussion of ‘the other’, Young (1993).
The term ‘irregular’ immigrants is suggested by Spencer (1994). For a discussion of their treatment, see Brubaker (1989); Baldwin-Edwards (1991b); Silverman (1992); Morris (1994); Fakete (1997); Castles and Miller (1998); Düvell and Jordan (1999).
See Brubaker (1989); Ginsburg (1992, 1994a); Fekete (1997); Whitaker (1998); Katz (2001). In the UK, there has been strong opposition to the progressive erosion under Conservative and New Labour governments of asylum-seekers’ rights, culminating in the replacement of social security by humiliating and less generous vouchers (to be withdrawn in the face of protest). There has also been concern about the denial of the basic civil rights of those held in detention, often for long periods. INexile, the journal of the Refugee Council, is a good source of information.
See Camus-Jacques (1989); Buijs (1993); Kofman et al. (2000). For more detailed information about the difficulties faced by female refugees and asylum-seekers, see Bhabha and Shutter (1994); Peters and Wolper (1995); www.womenlobby.org/asylumcampaign.
This is at least the theory and for those, mainly women, admitted as family members, such rights may only be derived from those of their husbands (Knocke, 1995). This is one aspect of a more complex ‘civic stratification’ discussed by Morris (1997). Also, in virtually all states access to certain public sector jobs is excluded.
For information about local voting rights, see Miller (1989); Hammar (1990); Baldwin-Edwards (1991a, 1991b); Layton-Henry (1991). Miller (and also Samers, 1998) points to the extent of political activity among immigrant populations. Kofman et al. document political activity among female migrants, suggesting that ‘constraints on participation in the formal political process have not prevented women from participating in other aspects of political citizenship through struggles to extend their rights and those of others’ (2000, p. 190).
For an overview of and naturalisation rate estimates and policies see Brubaker (1989); Baldwin-Edwards (1991a, 1991b); Clarke et al. (1998); Castles and Davidson (2000). Dual citizenship is advocated by Carens (1989); Hammar (1990); Canefe (1998). Castles and Miller (1998) suggest measures, such as special representative bodies and voting rights for long-term residents, in the case of those who choose not to become citizens.
See Bhavnani (1993); Yuval-Davis and Anthias (1989); Yuval-Davis (1993, 1997a, b); Kosambi (1995).
This tension is discussed by Harris (1987); Miller (1987); Riley (1992). For a discussion of cultural citizenship and its associated politics see also Alvarez et al. (1998); Isin and Wood (1999); Perez-Bustillo (2000); Stevenson (2001).
Parekh argues that positive equality requires that the usual repertoire of citizenship rights should be extended to include cultural rights. These he defines as ‘the rights an individual or a community requires to express, maintain and transmit their cultural identity’ (2000, p. 211). For further elaboration on cultural rights see Pakulski (1997); Cowan et al. (2001); Stevenson (2001). Pakulski draws particular attention to ‘Aboriginal rights’, as do Dodds (1998) and Turner (2001). For a more general discussion of recognition and citizenship see Taylor (1992) and Isin and Wood (1999). Language raises some difficult issues, discussed by Carens (2000, pp. 77–87, 124–131). In a number of countries, new members are required to learn the official language. This could be seen as enforcing cultural assimilation, as evidenced in the outcry against the proposal, in a 2002 White Paper, that learning English should be made a condition of UK citizenship. But Macey (1995) points out that without knowledge of the official language, members of a society are likely to be marginalised and excluded from full participation, a point acknowledged by multi-culturalists such as Carens (2000) and Kymlicka (2001) who support the recognition of minority ethnic languages. Where women are denied access to knowledge of the language by male members of their communities, this exclusion is exacerbated; indeed UK Home Office Ministers have cited the protection of minority ethnic women’s civil rights in justification of the proposal.
Kymlicka (2001, p. 36); see also Carens (2000); Kymlicka and Norman (2000); Patten (2000); Tully (2000); and Parekh’s (2000) treatise on multi-culturalism.
Raz (1994, p. 73, cited by Phillips, 1995, p. 18) argues that respect for different cultures must be conditional on, among other things, ‘the right of individuals to abandon their cultural group’. The general problems with multi-culturalism are elaborated by Yuval-Davis (1991a, 1994, 1997a); Anthias and Yuval-Davis (1992); Silverman (1992); Bhavnani (1993); Knocke (1998).
Although, as Kymlicka himself acknowledges, such a distinction may be difficult to maintain in practice, it does offer a possible framework for addressing claims for ‘minority group’ rights whilst recognising different interests within groups. For an alternative formulation in relation to family law, see Shachar (2000).
This argument has been put by Parekh (1991) and Galeotti (1993), the latter in a discussion of the implications for citizenship of the French ‘headscarf’ controversy, in which three Muslim schoolgirls were banned from school so long as they refused to uncover their heads. She argues that ‘equality of respect’, which is crucial to citizenship, requires public recognition of collective identities and not just their private sufferance. For a discussion of the ‘headscarf affair’ as an example of a conflict between secularism and difference, see Silverman (1992, pp. 111–18); Favell (1998, pp. 173–193); and for a feminist perspective, Kofman and Sales (1992) and Gaspard (1998).
In a letter to the Guardian (22 July 1989), Southall Black Sisters and the Brent Asian Women’s Refuge attacked the British Labour Party’s support for separate Muslim schools as delivering them into ‘the hands of male, conservative and religious forces within our communities, who deny us our right to live as we please’. Separate schools, they argued,’ seek to control the lives of women’, leaving no space for questioning of issues around reproductive rights, domestic violence and women’s position in the family.
See Ålund (1999a, b); Welsch (1999) and, for an account of culture as a contested process, Cowan et al. (2001). Isin and Wood (1999) prefer ‘diasporic’ to ‘multi-cultural’ citizenship, as suggestive of a more transformatory politics.
Held (1991a, p. 24). This link is also discussed by Anthias and Yuval-Davis (1992); Turner (1993); Castles and Davidson (2000); Delanty (2000); Faulks (2000). For an exposition of the legal relationship between citizenship and the nation-state, with particular reference to the UK, see Gardner (1990).
For a discussion of the impact on nation-state citizenship of these pressures, see Hobsbawm (1994); Horsman and Marshall (1994); Held (1995); Pettman (1999); Castles and Davidson (2000); Delanty (2000).
The two most common paths are exemplified by France and Germany, commonly described as jus soli and jus sanguinis. Brubaker summarises the contrast between the two as follows: ‘While birth and residence in France automatically transform second-generation immigrants into citizens, birth and residence in Germany have no bearing on citizenship. Vis-à-vis immigrants, the French citizenry is defined expansively, as a territorial community, the German citizenry restrictively, as a community of descent. These diverging definitions of the citizenry embody and express distinctive understandings of nationhood, state-centred and assimilationist in France, ethnocultural and “differentialist” in Germany’ (1990, p. 379; 1992; for a critical appraisal, see Behnke, 1997). The Schröder Government has modified Germany’s citizenship laws to take some account of birth and residence in the face of considerable right-wing resistance (Morris, 2000; Schuster and Solomos, 2002). A number of theorists have developed typologies of models or regimes to make sense of different nation-state approaches to migration, membership and citizenship (Castles and Miller, 1993; Soysal, 1994; Williams, 1995a; Kofman et al., 2000).
Yuval-Davis and Anthias (1989); Anthias and Yuval-Davis (1992); Yuval-Davis (1993, 1997a). See also Horsman and Marshall (1994), who refer to the ‘myth of the nation’ (p. xviii); Castles and Davidson whose ‘main thesis’ is ‘that a theory of citizenship for a global society must be based on the separation between nation and state’ (2000, p. 24); and Delanty (2000).
See also Walby (1992); Pettman (1996); Cockburn (1998). Women’s symbolic and actual role in the construction of the nation and nationalisms has similarly been highlighted by Williams (1989, 1995a) with particular reference to the development of social citizenship in the context of early twentieth-century British imperialism. That it is a heterosexual nation-state which women symbolise is underlined by Alexander (1994) and Richardson (1996).
See Amnesty International (1995); UN (1995b); Pettman (1996); Cockburn (1998).
For a discussion of regionalism see Meehan (1993a); Horsman and Marshall (1994); Taylor (1994).
This formulation is borrowed from Silverman (1992). The exclusive nature of EU citizenship has also been analysed by O’Leary (1996); Roche and van Berkel (1997); Hansen (2000); Kveinen (2002).
See for instance, Soysal (1994); Lehning and Weale (1997); Roche and van Berkel (1998); Delanty (1997a, 1998, 2000).
Meehan, (1993c, p. 195, 1993b). For a relatively positive interpretation of the EU’s impact on equal opportunities, despite the legal constraints within which it operates, see Walby (1999), who argues this has been achieved mainly through legal regulation of employment, and Hantrais (2000). A more critical reading, which emphasises the narrow interpretation of equality underpinning EU sex equality law and many of the decisions of the European Court of Justice, is provided by Hervey and Shaw (1998).
Teague (1998, p. 117), for instance, warns that ‘the road to monetary union paved by Europe’s political elite spells bad news for already beleaguered welfare and employment systems’. Kiernan (1997) is critical of the EU’s failure to defend social rights in the face of the pressures of globalisation.
Hutton and Giddens (2000, p. xi). See also Robertson (1990); McGrew (1992); Held (1991b, 1993); European Centre (1993); Mishra (1999); Pettman (1999); Clarke (2001), and for the argument that we are seeing the maturing of an international economy, rather than globalisation as such, Hirst and Thompson (1999).
Keane (1994). For a more critical assessment, which places greater emphasis on the ‘digital divide’ that exists within and between societies, see Murdock and Golding (1989, 2001); Golding (1994, 1996); Comor (1998); Golding and Murdock (2001); Tambini (2001b); Selwyn (2002).
The implications of environmental factors for nation-state citizenship are explored by Steward (1991); Weale (1991); Oliver and Heater (1994); Twine (1994); van Steenbergen (1994); Newby (1996); Jelin (2000); Shiva (2000).
Soysal (2001, p. 335; 1994; see also Sassen, 1998, Ch.2). Although her formulation has been influential, it has also been criticised for exaggerating the extent to which human rights have superseded national citizenship rights and for downplaying the importance of participatory political rights, which remain rooted in nation state citizenship (Delanty, 1997a; Faulks 2000; Kofman et al., 2000; Schuster and Solomos, 2002).
See Hammar (1990); Allen and Macey (1991); Bovenkerk et al. (1991); Bunyan (1993); Fekete (1997); Kofman et al. (2000).
Mishra is among those who argue that nation states still have considerable autonomy in relation to economic and social policy and that the impact of globalisation is mediated by national policy approaches, reflecting different models of capitalism, but that globalisation can’ serve as a convenient rationalization for neoliberal policies’ (1999, p. 103; see also Hirst and Thompson, 1999, ch. 6; Pierson, 2001; Sykes et al, 2001).
Examples are: Turner (1990); Roche (1992); Dahrendorf (1994, 1996); Yuval-Davis and Werbner (1999); Delanty (2000); Faulks (2000). Bauböck (1994) prefers the notion of ‘transnational’ to that of global citizenship because of the suggestion of global governmental institutions implied by the latter. Transnational citizenship represents, he suggests, a means of expanding citizenship beyond national boundaries through the emergence of interstate citizenship such as in the EU and through the development of human rights as an element of international law. Soysal uses the term ‘postnational’ citizenship or membership to describe rights conferred by international human rights principles on every person regardless of their historical or cultural ties to a particular community. She sees it as co-existing with national citizenship in a ‘mutually reinforcing and reconfiguring’ relationship (2001, p. 340; 1994; see also Tambini, 2001a). The case against, as well as for, ‘cosmopolitan citizenship’ is elaborated in Hutchings and Dannreuther (1999). Here, Miller (1999, 2000), its most prominent opponent, argues that effective citizenship practice is only realisable within a bounded political community in relation to fellow citizens with whom one can identify.
The idea of citizenship as multi-layered or tiered has been put forward by, for instance, Heater (1990, 1999); Held (1991a, 1995); McGrew (1992); Parry (1991); Soysal (1994); Yuval-Davis (1997a, b); Cohen (1999); Delanty (2000). A more sceptical note is injected by Kofman (1995) who warns that some groups are better placed to move between the different layers than others.
See Heater (1990); Weale (1991); Bauböck (1994); Newby (1996); Young (2000). The principles of cosmopolitan justice and/or citizenship are also discussed by Nussbaum and Glover (1995); Linklater (1998, 1999); Jones (1999).
Deacon (2001, p. 67; 1997, 2000). See also Townsend (1993; 1995); Mishra (1999).
UNDP, 1996 as cited in the Guardian, 16 July 1996; 1994, p. 3; also 1999, 2000.
For a discussion of the impact of global economic policies upon women in poorer nations see Mitter (1986); Mosse (1993); Rowbotham (1995); Connelly (1996); Sparr (1996); Moghadam (1999a); Pettman (1999); and of feminist struggles in reponse: Peterson (1996); Moghadam (1999a, b); Women’s Studies International Forum (1999).
UNDP (1994, pp. 96–7, 4); the Human Development Report 1995 (UNDP, 1995) provides more detailed information on the basis of a ‘gender-related development index’ and ‘gender empowerment measure’. The 1999 Report devotes a chapter to how ‘globalization is putting a squeeze on care and caring labour’ (UNDP, 1999, p. 77).
Desai (1999, p. 193). For a generally positive account of human rights as women’s rights, see Amnesty International (1995); Peters and Wolper (1995); Coomaraswamy (1999); Nussbaum (1999); Bunch et al. (2001); Merry (2001). A more critical stance is taken by Grewal, who argues that ‘human rights discourse often seems to take the place of. historically contextualized analyses of women’s lives’ (1999, p. 346).
For a discussion of the relationship between human and citizenship rights, see Parry (1991), Soysal (1994) and Delanty (2000). The last two suggest that the distinction between citizenship and human rights is becoming blurred, as the latter increasingly can be claimed through national legal systems in a context of interleaving layers of legal jurisdiction. A legal perspective is provided by Gardner (1990) and Neff (1999).
Gould (1988, Chapter 12) discusses some of the debates such an approach raises, in particular the tension between the right of self-determination of nations and the dictates of human rights and international justice. The vexed question of the clash between universalist human rights discourses, emanating from the West, and arguments in favour of cultural relativism is discussed by, for instance, Delanty (2000) and Parekh (2000). Many advocates of universal human rights point out that, even though they ‘have their roots in Western cultural traditions,... UN human rights treaties themselves have been co-authored by and represent the priorities of the entire international community’ (Van Ness, 1999, p. 9). Indeed, there now exist four regional human rights instruments: Inter-American, European, African and Arab (UNDP, 2000). Some base their advocacy of human rights on ‘a notion of universalism as a continually changing, negotiated, and tentative definition of international human rights’ (Van Ness, 1999, p. 11; see also Ferguson, 1999). Santos goes further when he supports the ‘emancipatory potential of human rights politics’, provided it is grounded in cross-cultural dialogue rather than ‘false universalisais’ (1999, pp. 215, 222; see also Blacklock and Macdonald, 1998). From the perspective of women’s rights, the case for a ‘critical universalism’, which is nevertheless sensitive to history and tradition, is argued in Nussbaum and Glover (1995). Merry (2001) argues that the universalism/relativism dichotomy obscures the ways in which women activists across the globe appropriate the concept of human rights and tailor it to local conditions. Strong arguments for the universality of women’s human rights are similarly put by Coomaraswamy (1999); Nussbaum (1999, 2000) and in Peters and Wolper (1995), where it is also pointed out that the dynamic nature of human rights means that their interpretation has changed over time, for instance to include social and women’s rights.
The implications of this tension are explored by Soysal (1994), Jordan (1997); Whitaker (1998) and Schuster and Solomos (2002). Soysal provides a rather optimistic account of its potential resolution through her notion of ‘postnational’ membership or citizenship, which has been challenged elsewhere (see, for instance, Kofman et al., 2000). The value of universal human rights to immigrants, asylum-seekers and indigenous peoples is stressed by Sassen (1998), Bhabha (1999) and Hocking and Hocking (1998) respectively. Oswin (2001) provides an alternative, critical, view.
These international laws are explored by Held (1991b) and Gardner (1990). Most important are the UN International Bill of Rights, which comprises international treaties covering civil, political, social and economic as well as general human rights; the European Convention on Human Rights and the UN Geneva Convention on the Rights of Refugees. The establishment of an International Criminal Court, with power to try those accused of crimes against humanity, has been described as a ‘momentous breakthrough... towards a world order in which the rule of law might operate’ (Lloyd, 1998, p. 28). However, a number of major states, including the US, have refused to become party to the statute (Thomas, 2001; Roberts, 2002).
See Loescher and Monahan (1989), Bauböck (1991) and, from the particular perspective of women, Bhabha and Shutter (1994); Peters and Wolper (1995); www.womenlobby.org. At the start of the twenty-first century, as asylum has become a heated political issue, there have been growing calls among politicians for a review of the Refugee Convention and even talk of quotas.
See Loescher and Monahan (1989); Bauböck (1991); Castles and Miller (1998); Halliday (2000).
See Held (1991b, 1995); McGrew (1992); Hobsbawm (1994); Horsman and Marshall (1994); Trend (1996); Giddens (1998, 2000); Grieve Smith (2000). Giddens and Hutton (2000) argue for a World Financial Authority to regulate financial markets and oversee international financial institutions and a World Central Bank to act as lender of last resort.
Held (1995, p. 140; 1991b, p. 208; 1993). See also Gould (1988); Giddens (1994a, 1998), Deacon (1997); Linklater (1998); Hirst and Thompson (1999); Young (2000). A more sceptical note about the possibility of democratising international institutions is sounded by Kymlicka (2001, pp. 323–6).
See UNDP (1994, 1999); Muetzelfeldt and Smith (2002). The Commission on Global Governance was chaired by the Prime Minister of Sweden and the former Secretary General of the Commonwealth Secretariat with a membership including a former president of the World Bank.
France has seen a popular campaign for the tax (Aguiton, 2001) and both the late President Mitterand and Prime Minister Jospin have voiced support. War on Want has organised a UK campaign (see www.tobintax.org.uk). In response to the financial turmoil following September 11, the EC initiated a study into its feasibility.
Santos (1999, 2001); see also Aziz (1999); Falk (2000); Hardt and Negri (2000); Starr (2001); Muetzelfeldt and Smith (2002). Anheier et al. (2001) point out that global civil society is most concentrated in North Western Europe, followed by Latin America and sub-Saharan Africa and is relatively weak in North America and East and South Asia. An important milestone in ‘the movement for global social justice’ has been the World Social Forum in Porto Allegre, attended by 50,000 in 2002 (Wainwright, 2002).
Circular from Jubilee Plus (10 June 2001). A useful overview of global citizen action and the issues it raises can be found in Anheier et al. (2001); Edwards and Gaventa (2001). These issues include the need to distinguish between social movements and professional NGOs, underlined by Silliman (1999; see also Alvarez et al., 1998). The latter have come under increasing criticism for their frequent lack of accountability and democracy, tendency to Northern domination and growing co-option by government (see also, Spivak, 1996; Weiss, 1999; Shaw Bond, 2000). Nor, as Halliday (2000) points out, is all non-governmental action ‘civil’, as it can also involve, for example, fundamentalist and antiimmigrant groups and violence (see also Stubbs, 1998). The journal Red Pepper is a good source of information on the globalisation of protest.
During the course of the 1995 Copenhagen Social Summit, for instance, provision was made for the lobbying of delegates through the medium of e-mail. The use made of the internet by global networks is discussed in Ribeiro (1998); UNDP (1999); Mayo (2000); Desai and Said (2001); Edwards and Gaventa (2001); Naughton (2001) who also emphasises how its full potential is undermined by the global digital divide.
The impact of women’s networks on the UN conferences is discussed by Pettman (1996); Alvarez (1998); Desai (1999); Silliman (1999); Bunch et al. (2001). Despite the degree of unity achieved, tensions were identified between women in the North and the South and between NGOs and the wider women’s movement. Mackie (2001) points to the long history of women’s international networking.
Suarez Toro (1995) provides the example of Central America. Here cross-national networking among women’s organisations played a crucial role in the lead up to the Beijing conference (see also Alvarez, 1998). Bunch et al. (2001) describe the work of DAWN, a network of women from the South concerned with, inter alia, economic justice and reproductive rights (see also Moghadam, 1999a, b). In the EU, some space has been provided for women’s organisations to articulate their interests, especially through the non-governmental European Women’s Lobby (www.womenlobby.org; Pillinger, 1992; Hoskyns, 1996, Hantrais, 2000). It has, though, been criticised for marginalising Black and migrant women, leading to a report by the EWL on Black and migrant women in the EU (European Women’s Lobby, 1995).
See Düvell and Jordan (1999); Harris (2000); Hayter (2001). Sassen (1998, p. 14) underlines the tension between global capital’s ‘drives for border-free economic spaces’ and immigration controls.
The principle of non-discrimination would include not only anti-sexism and anti-racism but also, for instance, discrimination against same-sex partnerships, disabled people and people with AIDS or other illnesses. An attempt to sketch out a framework for an anti-discriminatory immigration policy in the British context can be found in Cook et al. (1988) and Spencer (1994). Cohen (1995), however, argues that immigration controls are inherently racist. The demand for recognition of autonomous legal status was made by the Refugee and Migrant Women’s Caucus in a statement to the Beijing Conference.
The term ‘prefigurative political forms’ comes from Rowbotham et al. and refers to ‘the notion of organizations in which a transforming vision of what is possible develops out of the process of organizing’ (1979, p. 146).
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Lister, R. (2003). Inclusion or Exclusion?. In: Campling, J. (eds) Citizenship: Feminist Perspectives. Palgrave, London. https://doi.org/10.1007/978-0-230-80253-7_3
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