Название: The Integration Nation
Автор: Adrian Favell
Издательство: John Wiley & Sons Limited
Жанр: Социология
isbn: 9781509549412
isbn:
These issues are among many anomalies that create noise in the international system of populations and the national statistics it reflects; blurring the borders, undermining national power. In the terms of James C. Scott (1998), some of these populations have not yet been rendered fully legible to the receiving state. Even more anomalous, though, is the fact that, at any given moment, there are very large numbers of people present in the receiving box – for shorter and longer periods of time – who are not counted as part of that society’s integrated population. These will include ‘illegal’, i.e., undocumented migrants: the most obvious anomaly in the system and the focus of a huge part of the political discussion on immigration (Gonzales et al. 2019). Humanitarian migration, clearly too, is a massive ‘crisis’ for the nation-state to resolve – although it remains a small proportion of the overall permanent migration flows to OECD countries (see Safi 2020: 15–16). Yet alongside these are much larger, less obvious, anomalous populations who are perfectly legal. Though less visible, and perhaps not even thought of as ‘migrants’, they are no less important to affirming the nation-state’s power.
It might help to take one such container box as an example. The United Kingdom has a population of about 66 million, with approximately 6.2 million non-national residents (House of Commons 2020) – and this is not counting its sizeable, but undocumented, irregular population, estimated variably between 150,000 and one million (Walsh 2020). So almost 10 per cent of the population is not British; one in ten persons stably present is not a national. Over half of these non-nationals until recently have been European Union (EU) citizens; many others come from other affluent nations around the world, some from the UK Commonwealth. The state has an intense interest in managing this population, and they are usually counted in the overall population. Yet they are not counted as members (i.e., they are not nationals or citizens), are often not seen as ‘immigrants’ (although they may be) – many are ‘White’ and ‘western’ and not at all disadvantaged – and fall outside many of the issues of integration which typically define who is an immigrant. Normatively, they are not part of any national self-conception – or, officially, the ‘output’ of the nation. By definition, they are foreigners, even if many have been participating in and contributing to everyday British society for years.
In any given year, moreover, a much larger floating population might be present in the society as visitors – tourists or business people, but also students and long-term specialist workers on particular visas, and so on. Let’s call these people ‘free movers’ who come and go, a growing part of a globalized world. In Britain (prior to the COVID pandemic), this figure was given as between 35 and 40 million people annually (ONS 2019) – well over half the numbers for the national population – for short but indefinite periods of time. As noted, by definition, these populations again usually have nothing to do with ‘integration’ issues. At the same time, the state is also intensely interested in this very difficult to document and track population. It wants to maximize economic benefits from them: in many cases, it wants to make access easy and unproblematic, encourage their multiple cross-border ‘mobilities’ in an integrated regional or global economy, connect with them economically in any way it can. Yet it does not wish them to stay and certainly does not allow them any of the usual benefits of club membership of national residents: access to jobs, social protection, a voice in elections and so on – although, confusingly, it may look after them if they get run over in the street. From the point of view of pastorally managing the population – the birth-to-death issues reserved for ‘integrated’ nationals – it is, however, a largely irrelevant population; some other state is looking after them.
This floating population is usually invisible to immigration politics. Yet rendering them invisible is crucial to making legible those who are relevant: the ‘immigrants’. It matters intensely that those others who are to join the container – a very small proportion of the mobile, border-crossing population – can be clearly and decisively distinguished from the larger invisible group, no less than they need to be distinguished from ‘illegal’ or ‘unwanted’ migrants. In Britain, the floating population of ‘free movers’ is in fact around a hundred times larger than that of ‘immigrants’; i.e., among those crossing the border, there is one immigrant for every 100 mobile visitors present. There is only about one new immigrant per year for every 20 non-nationals. And, despite the intensity of debate, asylum seekers remain a small part of annual immigration, at its highest about a tenth (around 35,000 annually).
The skewed and very particular focus of political demography here becomes clear. While other mobile populations have remained largely invisible, the highly contentious British politics of immigration – when not focused on policing borders against the tiny number of irregulars who wash up on its shores – has centred on the failed target for the designated ‘immigrant’ population. This was infamously set by a former prime minister, David Cameron, as a net immigration of (only) 100,000 persons per year. This created a huge political outcry, as for years the real number was never lower than 300,000 (Cohen 2017). The target has since been scrapped, and the overall number is still growing (Vargas-Silva and Rienzo 2020). At the same time, 150,000–200,000 British nationals leave the British population annually (although they do not leave their citizenship). The huge controversies over Brexit in part centred on the fact that more than half of the ‘immigrants’ identified in these official UK statistics were in fact non-nationals from EU member states – over which the state had no legal control or restriction. They were EU citizens, with a kind of European citizenship that allowed them to come and go as they pleased, and live and work in British society, without in fact becoming, legally or politically, immigrants. There was no implication they would need to become full members; they were not subject to integration. In fact, they were ‘free movers’ and might have been better thought of as part of that floating international population. Yet the British state felt obliged to call them ‘immigrants’ and include them in those statistics. Politicians, the media and even many scholars referred to them as ‘EU immigrants’, even though this was a legal falsehood (Favell and Barbulescu 2018). Brexit, of course, ‘resolved’ this question – with further complications for ‘immigrant integration’ which I will trace later.
Other ‘immigrants’ in the same statistics had in contrast always been chosen and identified at the border, with strictly selective entry via work or family reunification rights, the two typical motives, unless they were recognized refugees. These immigrants were legally and politically designated as such in conventional terms. They have always been subject to integration and could follow the line all the way to membership and full citizenship. Counting and identifying them as part of the population ensures the continuity of the box that contains the total British population and secures its power. Integration would ultimately resolve the anomaly of their international migration. Yet, from this point of view, all other ‘mobile’ populations are irrelevant, including a large majority of the resident long-term non-nationals, who have a ‘right to remain’ – but also remain anomalous.