(1998) Immigration, 'ethnic minorities' and 'social exclusion' in the European Union: a critical...

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Immigration, ‘Ethnic Minorities’, and ‘Social Exclusion’ in the European

Union: a Critical Perspective

MICHAEL SAMERS* Department of Geography, Roxby Building, University of Liverpool, Liverpool,

L69 3BX, U.K.

Introduction

Racist violence, discrimination in labour and housing markets, the transformation of welfare regimes, state triage in the realm of education, and abuse by immigration officers continue to plague immigrants and ‘ethnic minorities’. The political significance of figures such as France’s Jean-Marie I_.e Pen and contemporary currents of nationalism have ensured the political institutionalization of the exclusion (and perhaps the mobilization also) of immigrants and ethnic minorities. At the same time, the question of immigration [both within and to the European Union (EU)] has emerged as a central issue in the debate over political integration-the Treaty of Maastricht, etc.. Similarly, the rise of European un(der)employment and the more marked decline, and shifting nature of employment opportunities for immigrants, ‘ethnic minorities’ and nationals alike has fueled considerable dialogue about ‘social exclusion’.

In this paper, I explore the relationship between immigration, ‘ethnic minorities’, and so-called ‘social exclusion’ by questioning the concept of ‘social exclusion’ itself, and the stance of Brussels and individual European states on policies of ‘integration’. Restricting my investigation to continental Europe, I present a critical analysis of both the existing literature on the relationship between

* E-mail: [email protected]

immigration, ‘ethnic minorities’, and ‘social exclusion’, and of European policy. What I want to argue (or rather admonish) is that first, the term social exclusion is a ‘chaotic concept’ (similar to ‘sustain- ability’ or ‘globalization’) which has unfortunately come to eclipse a more sensitive understanding of the way in which marginalization plays itself out in particular European contexts.’ Perhaps here we require a hermeneutic understanding of ‘social exclusion’ (from the perspective of those supposedly ‘socially excluded’), such as that offered by the emerging literary work on migrancy (e.g. Ring et al., 1995). Second, I wish to adopt a more dialectical understanding and appreciation of ‘social exclusion’ and ‘integration’. I argue that the distinction between exclusion and inclusion is far more ambigous than is implied by liberal academics and policy-makers, Third I present a critical reading of the academic literature on the economic, political, and social citizenship of immigrants and ‘ethnic minorities’. I maintain that grand discourses which constitute the ideological construction of nationhood continue to be signiscant in the social construction of social exclusion. I argue further that discussions of economic inclusion or exclusion based around the ‘global cities paradigm’ and the transition to ‘post industrial society’ are too theoretically simplistic and/or ‘spatially fetishist’, and I advance a certain conceptual apparatus for situating immigrants and ethnic minorities in European labour markets. Finally, I argue that immigrants and ethnic minorities continue to participate politically

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in diverse ways which serves to counter simplistic conceptions of ‘social exclusion’.

Immigrants and ethnic minorities

In this section, I clarify some terms which are frequently contlated by the ‘popular media’ and academic discussion, especially outside the special- ist journals on migration (Nav Community, Ethnic and Racial Studies, International Migration Reviw, and so forth) As the title of this paper suggests, we need to understand the distinction between ‘immigrants’ and ‘ethnic minorities’, as passing references are made to these terms in geographical journals in particular, without much critical thought. Indeed, constantly changing nationality laws and regulations necessitate a temporal sensiti- tivity to the very categories employed. On the one hand, broadly speaking, ‘immigrants’ may not be considered as legal citizens (thus they do not have full citizenry rights (the ability to vote) or employment rights (e.g. in the public sector, etc.). In this sense, they are de facto socially excluded from various forms of participation in quasi-democratic European states. Yet in France for example, termi- nological ambiguities arise out of legal grey areas between immigrants who are not necessarily foreigners [for example those who emigrated from the DOM-TOM (overseas) departments or from Algeria prior to 19621 and foreigners who are not necessarily immigrants (for example those born on ‘French soil’ to parents who are themselves foreigners) (Cordeiro, 1996a; GISTI, 1994; INSEE, 1991). The same sort of complexity is witnessed in Germany where at least four legal categories of immigrants/ayslum-seekers have been observed (Faist, 1995). Immigrants with varying degrees of legal rights are sometimes referred to as ‘denizens’ and many even share identical rights to the ‘indigenous citizens’ while maintaining their original nationality (Faist, 1995; Hammar, 1993; van Amersfoort, 1996). Lastly, ‘margizens’ or undocumented migrants have no rights, or very few anyway, both within individual member states, and within the framework of the European Union.2

On the other hand, ‘ethnic minorities’ may be considered to have de jure full citizenship rights, even though they may have (a) parent(s) who are legally not citizens of the country of immigration. However, as we have seen for the case of France for

example, the term ‘immigrant’ and ‘ethnic minority’ are not mutually exclusive categories, and in fact, some have argued that the term ‘ethnic minorities’ most appropriately describes those groups of immigrant origins (Blanc and Smith, 1996).

Nonetheless, many have argued that the term ‘ethnic minority’ is not without difficulty. Ethnicity is not fixed or essential (see e.g. Brah, 1992; Hall, 1992). It often discursively excludes multiple identities shaped by age, gender, sexuality, class, and divisions of labour. The use of the ‘ethnicity’ and ‘ethnic minority’ can be colonialist, victimizing and patronizing, and perhaps what is required is a more positive, celebratory conception of ‘marginality’, ‘peripherality’, or diaspora (Hall, 1992; Gilroy, 1993; Spivak, 1988; Yuval-Davis, 1992). de Rudder (1987) protests that the “ethnic is always the minority”, and that the ethnic majority is obscured. Indeed, we are all ethnic, otherwise we would be a-historical. However, (Blanc and Smith, 1996) insist that ‘ethnic minority’ can replace the ambiguity of the term ‘foreigner’ or ‘immigrant’, and thus move beyond a strictly legal conceptual- ization, without completely jettisoning the importance of its legal character. Yet, as (Sayad, 1991) points out, immigrants are both a legal category and an extra-legal/sociologically-constructed category. Indeed, the term ‘immigrant’ not only constitutes the crossing of a geo-political space, or a system of residence and work permits, but the crossing of a psychological space (for a specific example, see Samers, 1997b). As Sayad writes

“One no longer knows if it concerns a temporary condition, which one is content to prolong indefinitely, or on the other hand, if it concerns a more permanent state in which one is content to live with an intense feeling of the temporary” (1991, p.51, translation MS).

Thus, we should reject Blanc and Smith’s (1996) argument that somehow the terms ‘foreigner’ and ‘immigrant’ reflect only fixed juridicial categories. Yet as the same authors point out, the term ‘ethnic minority’ also implies that immigration is not considered as a temporary phenomenon, which might allow us a means to study the so-called ‘second generation’. It is for this reason Blanc and Smith argue, that the term ‘ethnic minority’ appears to be the most appropriate term.

Immigration, ‘ethnic minorities’, and ‘social exclusion’ in the European Union: a critical perspective 125

The categorization of different peoples (citizens, margizens, foreigners, etc.) for heuristic, ped- agogical or political reasons, especially at the scale of the European Union will inevitably be ‘discursively violent’ to some, while perhaps contribut- ing (in albeit small ways) to the emancipation of others. Thus, at least as academics, we are unlikely to find an adequate term to describe the vastly complex interweaving of legislation, social networks, and psychological spaces which immigrants/ ‘ethnic minorities’ inhabit and produce. It would appear then that this excercise in understanding some of the distinctions is pointless since irresolv- able. Yet it is vital for the social sciences to make these distinctions if only for social policy and the welfare of immigrants and ‘ethnic minorities’ alike, in particular at more local scales where such distinctions may be more pronounced, visible, and critical. Finally, the complexity of at least legal conditions suggests that what is required for a sociological hermeneutics of immigrants (whether undocumented or not) and ethnic minorities is precisely a more nuanced appreciation of these two very categories, perhaps with more reference to the idea of ‘denizenship’ (Hammar, 1993).

Social exclusion

The EU has been plagued by rising un(der)- employment, growing social inequalities, and generally declining publicly-funded social services3 (Amin and Tomaney, 1995). It is not surprising then that there is also increasing concern about ‘social exclusion’ in the EU, or growing agreement amongst European policy-makers of the importance of ‘spatial exclusion’ (Berghman, 1995). The dan- gers of the latter conceptuahsation should be nothing new to critical geographers wary of ‘spatial fetishism’, and what should be recognized is that ‘social exclusion’ (if we agree to its reality) is fundamentally a dialectic of socio-spatial exclusion (c.f. Sibley, 1995).

I shall show in this section that first, there are a number of problems with the term ‘social exclusion’, and second that the use of the related term ‘integration’ must also be questioned. I conclude by suggesting that while many may be excluded from the labour market (or at least ‘primary sector’ jobs), there are many ways in which immigrants and ethnic minorities participate daily in shaping their

spaces of residence in ways which, in many cases, enrich their lives.

The term ‘social exclusion’ is only of recent creation, but it seems to have eclipsed other terms such as ‘poverty’ or ‘deprivation’ at least in the discursive terrains of academic and social policy analyses (Room, 1995a). Moreover, the use of this term has not escaped relevance in the context of immigrants and ‘ethnic minorities’, though it often takes the form of questions over ‘integration’ (or its opposite, a lack of integration), as well as ‘inclusion and exclusion’ (Bastenier and Dassetto, 1993; Ferreol, 1994; Leenders, 1995; Levitas, 1996; Miles and Thriinhardt, 1995). The vocabulary of ‘social exclusion’ seems to have gained wider currency in the 198Os, and (Berghman, 1995) traces its first official usage by the European Commission to a policy report generated by the second European poverty programme in 1988. It later became enscribed into the Maastricht treaty and the objec- tives of the structural funds, and has spread to initiatives within the Council of Europe (Room, 1995a). The gradual replacement of the term poverty by ‘social exclusion’ is explained in this way:

The original reason for this shift seems to have been political, as the member states (who have a guaranteed minimum income deemed sufficient to cover basic needsjexpressed reservations about the word poverty when applied to their respective countries. Social exclusion would then be a more adequate and less accusing expression to designate to the existing problems and definitions (Berghman, 1995, p.16)

For Room then,

The notion of poverty is primarily focused upon distribu- tional issues: the lack of resources at the disposal of an individual or a household. In contrast, notions such as social exclusion focus primarily on relational issues, in other words, inadequate social participation, lack of social integration and lack of power ( Room, 1995a, P-5).

He argues further that

[...]..notions of social exclusion are part of a continental- and perhaps more particularly a French-tradition of social analysis. Society is seen by intellectual and political elites as a status hierarchy or as a number of collectiv- ities, bound together by a sets of mutual rights and obligations that are rooted in some broader moral order. Social exclusion is the process of becoming detached from this moral order. If it is the liberal vision of society that inspires the Anglo-Saxon concern with poverty, it is

126 M. Samers

the conservative vision of society (using Esping-Anders- en’s sense) that inspires the continental concern with social exclusion. Or, insofar as the principal moral rights and obligations that shape social relations are those of an egalitarian citizenship, rather than traditional hierarchies, it is (again using the term in Esping-Andersen’s sense) the social democratic vision that shapes the debate on social exclusion (Room, l!I!Xa, ~.6).~

There are a number of difficulties with the concept of social exclusion. First, there is a tendency to research social exclusion in an empiricist manner (using mainly statistical analyses and descriptive monographs), without understanding some of the qualitative elements which generate poverty at a local or supra-local level (Berghman, 1995). Sec- ond, it is often not specified what immigrants or ethnic minorities are exactly excluded from-the labour market, social welfare, political participation (including civic participation in residential spaces)? In this vein, Levitas (1996) objects that “Exclusion and marginalization are mainly constructed as exclusion from and marginality to paid employment. Integration into society is elided with integration into work...” (p. 11). Third, it is not clear how the term ‘social exclusion’ relates to the term ‘underclass’ (e.g. Martiniello, 1996) or if a specific term is needed at all? (for example other Marxist- inspired, non-waged, or gendered categories?). Indeed, notions of social exclusion generally ignore unpaid work (often performed by women) in Europe. Fourth, one wonders whether (and how) the term ‘social exclusion’ arose in relation to the decline of a more ‘radical/socialist working class politics’, and indeed how ‘social exclusion’ is produced by capitalism (Levitas, 1996)?

Though these questions intersect in complex ways, let me address these issues individually. First, for Room (1995b), “... there appear to be no unique, formal definitions of social exclusion that would command general assent” (p. 235). How then might we define it? ‘Social exclusion’ as a concept- process could be divided into at least two categories, those processes associated with real (material) exclusion, and those associated with discursive exclusion which may have real (material) effects.

material exclusions

l exclusion from a job or ‘primary sector’ jobs’ l exclusion from social services (including health

and transport services, and self-help organixa- tions)

exclusion from ‘adequate’ housing (both state and private sectors) exclusion from political (civic) participation (in local elections and/or regional and/or national elections, local cultural and social organiza- tions). exclusion from ‘adequate’ social contacts financial exclusion (banking; access to loans) exclusion from (especially prestigious and/or well-funded secondary) education exclusion from employment training exclusion from ‘adequate’ consumption spaces exclusion from recreation and leisure (activities and spaces)

discursive (material) exclusions

by academics (the question of representation; social ‘invisibility’ in reports and surveys) by government and policy-makers (social ‘invisibility’ in reports and surveys; inability of ‘detec- tion’) by housing, social service, and immigration authorities (racism, intimidations) exclusion by schools, universities, and other educational authorities (racism, social categorix-

ing) exclusion by the media (television, newspapers, etc.)

This is not an exhaustive list, but it does, I think, provide an iatitial template for analysis. Essentially, what might be gathered from the above is that there is not a ‘social exclusion’ but many ‘social exclusions’. This is consistent with the conceptualisation of social policy analysts such as Room (1995b) who view social exclusion as a much more dynamic and multidimensional process than what is understood by the term ‘poverty’. Indeed, as Room inter alia see it, social exclusion is not simply based on the disposable income of individuals or households. It is aZso very much about multidimensional disadvantage and about localized communities in all their shifting temporalities. Specific dimensions will determine social exclusion as an outcome in particular ways for different groups in given localities, but also serve to (re)produce exclusions. The ‘multidimensional disadvantage’ of social exclusion may remain ambiguous, wide-ranging, and unwieldy, but I would support its eclipse of the term poverty for at least two reasons. First, poverty is often defined by ‘lines’ (as has often been the

case in Anglo-American research-a conceptualisa- oversee other determinations around age, gender, tion which continental analysts, and particularly the and sexuality.6 Its focus on deviance lends it a French, have been uncomfortable with) where moralistic (and racist) tone, implying that ‘ethnic individuals or households are either above or below minorities’, for example, are unfit to be incorpo- a designated level of poverty. As we have seen in rated into ‘mainstream society’ (Lapeyronnie, the framework of social exclusions listed above, the 1993). Others have insisted that in order for an concept of social exclusion moves beyond this underclass to exist, it must be structurally dis- linear and often simplistic conception of depriva- coupled from stable employment. Thus, it cannot tion. Secondly, the concept of poverty is often only include the intermittently employed, who are occas- seen as a condition, state or outcome, rather than a sionalIy out of work. It should not be extended to process of social exclusion. those involved in ‘secondary employment’ (as

understood by labour segmentation theorists),’ and A second problem with the term social exclusion is that although the underclass should be conceptu- its parallels with the term ‘underclass’, where the alised in structural terms (i.e. as a reflection of explanations for the socially excluded (sometimes) uneven capitalist development), it is still possible become synonymous with the explanations OS/for that culture, traditions, and norms play a role, for the underclass (Morris, 1994). The position of example, in matching job seekers with employment immigrants and ethnic minorities within capitalism opportunities (Hill, 1994). or European societies has been posited in a number of ways, including their role as part of the I wish to argue that although there are similarities underclass, ‘inframarginals’-the extreme poor; between the characteristics of those argued to be the part of the reserve army; they may be the victims of ‘socially excluded’ and those within the ‘under- ‘disqualification sociale’ (the socially disqualified), class’, the former is a less moralizing, more hopeful ‘outsiders’ (Esping-Andersen, 1990), or most discourse which is more concerned (at least among recently the ‘socially excluded’ (for a useful its more ‘leftist’ advocates) about ‘inclusion’, than discussion, see Martiniello, 1996). Side-stepping it is about blame.* The term ‘underclass’ therefore the larger question of whether we need to find an seems unhelpful and even dangerous. It initially adequate term at all, the term underclass has been drew attention away from the political economy of used to situate immigrants and ethnic minorities job supply and refocused it on the characteristics of within either the discourse of capitalism or within those excluded, and has since now legitimated an the ‘receiving societies’. Its usage has by now over-reliance on the replacement of welfare by experienced wide currency in both the American workfare. I would rather defer to Buck (in Hill, and European literature, and may be traced to the 1994) who argues that people may not be so much initial arguments of Auletta (1982). The debate stable members of an underclass as unstable around the underclass (where both ‘left’ and ‘right’ members of the ‘working class’ (or ‘wage-earning have argued for the appropriateness of the term) class’). may be understood as a debate around whether a certain group of people (e.g. ethnic minorities) form In this sense, a third problem with social exclusion part of the ‘working class’ or part of an ‘under- is the relationship between ‘social exclusion’, the class’, and in case of the latter, how it is shaped and ‘underclass’, and a radical/working class politics. If why it has persisted. Conservatives (especially in there are similarities in certain visions of the the US) have argued that it is the deviant character- socially excluded, the underclass, and Marx’s vision istics of this supposed ‘class’ which makes them of the ZumpenpmZeturiat, then the former terms do either unlikely to be integrated into ‘mainstream not reflect a working class capable of revolutionary society’ or in the extreme, ‘not worth helping’. tendencies. Here, the ambiguity arises as to what

exactly is implied by the term ‘socially excluded’, Criticisms of the term ‘underclass’ abound. For or rather who is in this group? Is it just the ‘long- (Martiniello, 1996), the underclass implies unques- term unemployed’ or does it include those working tioned assumptions about the class structure in extremely low-wage jobs in the service sector (including its fixity and a neglect of the role of without benefits? In this regard, policy analysts resistance), or what ‘class’ means itself (see for disagree on the importance of labelling a specific example the debate in Wright, 1989). It tends to population, or a specific locality. Is the term


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‘socially excluded’ simply a euphemistic replacement for the contemporary (presumedly) counter- revolutionary working classes? Are the socially excluded simply individualistic job seekers, bent only on improving their individual lot? What political strategies are involved in this discursive construction of the socially excluded? In other words, the discourse of ‘social exclusion’ implies an exclusion from the rewards of ‘mainstream society’ (‘bourgeois life’?). My point here is not to deny that the working classes (read in this case ethnic minorities and/or immigrants) are often not ‘revolutionary’ nor that ‘actually existing socialism’ has faced serious obstacles. Indeed, the absolute increase in service-sector employment (especially in food and food retailing, cleaning, etc.) have produced a growing number of part time, low wage jobs often occupied by immigrants/‘ethnic minorities’ (especially women, though this varies enormously according to different nationalities and ethnicities), that have weakened trade unionism (industrial and often largely male in some places) and produced new forms of economic and political marginalization. In fact, under so-called Fordism, immigrants to Europe tended to benefit from the extant strength of trade unions, which is not necessarily the case since about the early 1980s. Political marginalization has in many cases paral- leled a decline in real wages and benefits, increased job insecurity, and declining or transformed schemes of welfare provision (workfare, etc.) (Bastenier and Dassetto, 1993; Castles and Miller, 1993; Duncan, 1996; Samers and Woods, 1998; Lewis, 1992). ‘New social movements’ have arisen (immigrant associations and other anti-racist groups, etc.) but these have had comparatively limited impact on the political decision-making surrounding wages and benefits, and redressing unemployment and social deprivation. Furthermore, if social exclusion is supposed to principally concern the long-term unemployed, then the question of political mobilization around the job contract is simply not an issue. Thus, there have been considerable forces driving this discursive shift, but they are not sufficient. In a different context, Clarke reminds us that,

History judges losers harshly. Meanwhile, those who stood on the sidelines congratulate themselves on their disengagement from a struggle which was bound to lose, without considering that defeat was as much as anything the result of their own withdrawal from the struggle in the

name of the historical inevitability of the new Realism (Clarke, 1990, p.67).

In other words, has the term social exclusion (a bourgeois term?) served to supplant a radical/ working class discourse ? The question whether ethnic minorities/immigrants are either revolutionary or anti-revolutionary requires a more hermeneutic understanding of the socially excluded. Although certainly deficient, Miles (1993) call for a ‘sociology of migration’ is at least a step in the right direction. Alternatively, there is a growing body of literature which combines ethnographic research with discourse analysis and textual critique (see e.g. King et al., 1995), though the relationship between this literature and social exclusion from and/or within labour markets is hardly explicit. Nonethe- less, it is not my intent in this paper to provide an adequate theoretical and empirical response to what Giddens (1984) referred to as the ‘double hermeneutic’ (“the meaningful social world as constituted by lay actors and the metalanguages invented by social scientists”-p. 374) in the context of social exclusion and the underclass. I wish to simply suggest that the political participation of immigrants (even if at ‘localized’ scales) calls into question Bastenier and Dassetto, 1993 ‘conformism through individual mobility’ [conformisme par mobilit individueZZe],9 and more importantly what is meant by their social exclusion.

Social exclusion and integration/inclusion In studies of immigration, and certainly in the popular press, the term ‘integration’ is more often understood as a state (and certainly less frequently as a process) which may be viewed as the corrollary to social exclusion. As its corrollary, less critical policy analysts of migration (and even more critical studies) fluidly employ the term ‘integration’ (see e.g. Castles and Miller, 1993; Coleman, 1994; Oriol, 1996) or worse ‘cultural distance’ (e.g. van Amersfoort, 1996). Others speak of ‘inclusion’ (Bastenier and Dassetto, 1993), and although often these different usages converge around similar subjects (education, employment, etc.), or incorporate notions of ‘ethnic reciprocity’, like ‘social exclusion’, integration seems to be a chaotic concept (House, 1995). In fact, it is deeply flawed, for as (Tripier, 1990) asks, ‘integrate into what’? [s’int&rer b quoi?]. Even, if the term integration (rather than assimilation, insertion, etc.) implies more reciprocity, then the mistake here is to assume only two diametrically opposed ‘cultures’ where the


‘host society’ is somehow pre-homogenous. Moreo- ver, as Boumama, (1996) writes in the context of Maghrebin families in France, ‘We can even argue that ‘integration’ if it has existed at all, is deployed more in workers’ identity than in abstract French identity (p. 33, translation MS). Veillard-Baron, (1994) also offers a very different conceptualisation of integration, suggesting that in the French town he studied (Sarcelles); if integration exists at all, it exists in the diversify of social and cultural experiences. It is certainly possible that through ‘ethnically-defined networks’ (meaning networks of social relations in which the actors involved see themselves as ethnically homogenous or relatively so anyway), one can, to some degree, avoid the social, cultural, and economic requirements of the dominant ethnicities. In short, integrating ‘into something’ then, implies some stable form of society where hegemonic cultures are not contested by the political, economic, social, and cultural participation of ‘ethnic minorities’ themselves.” Furthermore, the concept of integration suggests a static notion of society where the ‘them’ confronts the ‘us’, and ignores the dialectics and ambiguities of social and cultural change. These misconceptions are often translated into a historical conception of European societies as culturally homogenous that in the past has facilitated the integration of immigrants. These same misconceptions uncritically assume (and are even obsessed with) the notion that ‘globalization’ has currently damaged European ‘national identities’ (at the level of the state, culture, and civil society) and rendered them too heterogenous to produce a viable contemporary script for integration (this is clearly evident in the work of Bastenier and Dassetto, 1993). While we should not completely exclude this thesis-it is by all historical evidence, overstated. It juxtaposes a ‘golden age’ of societal order against a current period of fragmentation and disorder. What is more plausible is that ‘subaltern’ voices were not involved to the same degree as they are today in the discursive construction of nationhood (prior to and just after World War II). Nonetheless, insofar as these silences have had a real effect on the cultural contours of European states, then the thesis of a ‘strong national identity’ maintains some validity. Ironically, it is not clear that many nationals themselves are ‘integrated’ (if we accept the popular connotation of the term). To illustrate this point, some of the contradictions and ambiguities of what is meant by integration are captured in the

following testimony of a women of Maghrebin origin who has lived in a northern Parisian suburb of Sarcelles for 40 years:

I created this organization for young people [she is the president of a cultural organization in the town, founded in 19821 so that young people would meet and marry later. I totally live the European life, but I am not for mixing. I think that integration is futile. We shouldn’t seek to integrate, but simply to be what we are. This liberty, it’s up to each of us to acquire; it is not unique to this or that country (cited in Veillard-Baron, 1994; translation MS).

Nonetheless, for many immigrants and ‘ethnic minorities’, the process of coping with basic material requirements (housing, food, clothing, education, raising children) involves at least some form of negotiation with the provisionally hegemonic languages, job markets, social services, and administrative apparatuses of European states. Thus, rather than ‘integration’, there is a process of negotiation which is shaped by the spatiality of class, gender, sexuality, and racialization, through uneven relationships of power (see also Bhabba, 1994; Keith, 1993)” Yet the purpose of querying social exclusion and integration has not been to resolve strictly semantic difficulties, for both these terms have real implications for the nature of policy (Bryant, 1997; Thomas, 1997), an issue to which I now turn.

Citizenship, social exclusion and the european union

Introduction

The aim of this section is to illustrate some of the theoretical and conceptual issues addressed in the first part of this paper by exploring the way in which citizenship (integration/inclusion, etc.) and social exclusion are manifested in certain European states. Yet a second aim of this section is to comment critically on current arguments in the literature of immigrants and ethnic minorities which serve to frame discussions of citizenship and social exclusion. As such, I explore three themes: the politics of citizenship and the policies of integration, labour markets and unemployment, and the political participation of immigrants and ethnic minorities.

Mass redundancies, repatriation schemes, and all manner of responses associated with accumulation

130 M. Samers

and legitimation interests under the umbrella of a declining Fordism dramatically changed the coun- tours of immigration to Europe, and a more pronounced creation of diasporic communities. For the first time European governments recognized that immigrants were ‘Here for Good’12 (Castles, 1984; Castles and Miller, 1993). If during the period of so-called Fordism (and perhaps arguably during the contemporary one) ‘Immigrants remain[ed] subjects of labour, and not subjects of law’ (Abdallah, 1996, ll), it was not until the mid- 1970s that European governments began to recognize the prescence of a significant immigrant population living in Europe, and to recognize them ‘as people’. Around this time, a number of states began policies of promoting ‘multiculturalism’, and I shall discuss these cases further below.

prior to the 197Os, the experience of citizenship policies remained highly differentiated among European states. For Brubaker (1992), the historical starting point for understanding citizenship (and thus ‘integration’) can be found in a conception of ‘nationhood’ based on either jus soli (‘law of soil’- e.g. France) or jus sunguinis (‘law of blood’-e.g. Germany). Other European states are argued to exist somewhere on the continuum between these two ideologies, which are then held to be at the root of policies of citizenship and ‘integration’ across countries of the EU. Brubaker argued that Ger- many’s Gusturbeiter system reflected the German notion of ‘community of descent’ (an ethnocultural conception) where citizenship would only be parsi- moniously granted to those who could demonstrate their ethnic German background. In France by contrast, citizenship was based more on the ‘place of birth’ that fostered ‘assimilation’ into the ‘republican ideal’, and encouraged civic incorporation. Thus, in comparison with many other European countries, this may explain why there are no ‘ethnic minorities’ as identified by the state in France (Costa-Lascoux, 1994), and as (Feldblum, 1993) writes, the ‘immign?’ masks the ethnic as a socially constructed category. Rather than reiterate these arguments which are well-rehearsed in the literature on migration, I would like instead to explore some of the criticisms which have been levelled at this conceptualisation of citizenship.

First, it is questionable whether this neat distinction actually functions in reality, and a closer examina- tion would show that the French conception of

‘nationhood’ contained many elements of jus sunguinis, while Germany’s incorporated many elements of jus soli (this is admitted by Brubaker though his critics have extracted a ‘straw binary figure’ and fail to recognize the nuance of his arguments). Moreover, EU states incorporate increasingly the notion of jus domicili (legal recognition based on the length of residence) as indicative of citizenship (Hammar, 1993). Second, while Brubaker’s argument may hold historical validity, the effects of so-called ‘globalization’ and the development of ‘supranational bodies such as the EU have prompted criticism from Soysal (1996), Guild (1996) and Weil (1996). They maintain that Brubaker’s thesis represents an unhelpful distinction in the context of contemporary Europe, and that questions of citizenship are increasingly being re-scaled to an abtract EU-level of citizenship (not to mention the modification of existing nationality laws in individual states). Heisler, (1996) eloquently summarizes Soysal’s argument:

These changes [in the global institutional 0rder-e.g. the EU and the European court of justice] have contributed to an expansion of membership rights in national politics and have contributed to the erosion of distinctions between the rights of aliens and citizens. Previously particularistic models of incorporation based on ‘nationhood’ have been replaced by universalist models based on ‘personhood’, representing a ‘post-national model of membership’ characterised by fluid boundaries and multiple dimensions of membership which are legitimated by universal personhood (Heisler, 1996, p.707).

Furthermore, Soysal claims, there is a discoupling between a person’s indent@ linked with a specific sense of ‘national identity’, and their rights (where individual and collective rights are being re-scaled to at least the level of the EU). As Cesarani and Fulbrook, (1996) write “The assertion of non- territorial rights grinds against common notions of sovereignty. The population of a particular state ends up as a tiered social formation, with different groups having different bundles of rights” (p. 6). This is consistent with our earlier critique of the simplistic binary distinction between immigrants and ethnic minorities. But I am less convinced by Soysal’s criticisms,‘3 as I am by others who claim, first; that the jus soliijus sanguinis distinction is far more complex than is portrayed by Brubaker, and second, that despite its pretensions of universalism, there is a danger of assuming that the French model is not ethnocultural (Silverman, 1996). Bearing


these criticisims in mind, I wish to resume a discussion of the contemporary political economy of European states and their implications for social exclusion.

Citizenship, integration policies, and social exclusion in the EU

It is more common, writes (Barou, 1996), to juxtapose the ‘models of integration’ of different EU states, and to render comparisons based on ideological and legal contrasts, than it is to observe the concrete conditions which particular popula- tions face. Thus, as an example, Barou argues that the ‘progressive Francisation’ of immigrants during the nineteenth century was a less a matter of some grand discourse of republican assimilation, than it was through the professional and residential mobility of the immigrants themselves. Indeed North et al., (cited in Faist, 1995, 182) intially found that in the UK, Germany, Sweden, and France, access to social services was not governed so much by citizenship status, as it was by physical presence in the country and legal status (jus domiciZQ. There- fore,

Today, if there is a deficit of citizenship in certain areas of France, it is more linked to a lack of capacity of individuals and groups to participate positively to the life of the whole of the social corps, than it is to a legal status which makes such a participation impossible or at least difficult (Barou, 1996, p.65).

While we can disagree with Barou’s implicit conception of ‘integration’, his critique of the extant literature needs to be understood within the current context of integration policies of different European countries, and that is precisely the task of the following section. Thus, to respond to Barou’s claims, my aim is to evaluate the relevance of citizenship policies (civic or ‘integration’ policies) in order to understand their effectivity for ‘social exclusion’ in three countries: France, Germany and the Netherlands.

Citizenship in the EU is essentially based around five categories: citizens of national welfare states, those migrating from other member states, those migrating from non-EU states, and undocumented immigrants. In the EU, the provision of welfare is generally based on the distinction between citizens and non-citizens and between legal and illegal immigrants (Faist, 1995). There is enormous difference in the policies of citizenship between those

migrants from other EU states, and those originating from outside the EU (notably, Algerians, Moroccans, and Turks), even for immigrants with unlimited residence permits in Germany, for exam- pie. Thus, a Turkish worker in Germany does not have unlimited freedom to accept a job in France. Despite a ruling by the European court of justice that association and cooperation agreements between EU states and ‘sending countries’ (again notably Algeria, Morocco, Tunisia, and Turkey) must be adhered to by all individual states, these migrants tend to be ‘denizens’ on a national level and ‘aliens’ at the EU-level (Faist, 1995).

We will recall that in France, the ideological conception of statehood is Zargely based on the concept of jm soli, though since the implementation of the 1993 nationality reform act, this has moved towards jus sanguinis, or at least to a more strict filtering of naturalisation. France’s policies of ‘integration’ are based around a denial of ‘ethnic minorities’ or ‘ethnic communities’. Rather, the state seeks to defend individuals on the same emphasis on equality which was stipulated by the founders of the French republic. Thus, the state recognizes religion but will not allow it to interfere with the supposed ‘neutrality’ of the state. This neutrality is alledgedly threatened by groups which attempt to impose their religious beliefs on the state (Coleman, 1994;OECD/SOPEMI, 1995).

However, the reality of social exclusion and the policies of integration, as Barou is correct to point out, are not a direct reflection of the grand ideological discourse of jus soli and republican citizenship. Indeed much of French policies of integration are ad hoc and responsive, despite deeply entrenched rhetoric. Thus, in the 197Os, job losses and the rise of unemployment in suburban housing estates for especially young immigrants (and ethnic minorities) associated with the collapse of Fordism, prompted the government to promote all manner of educational, religious, and cultural institutions to abate the growing urban violence (Repel, 1987). For Barou, (1985), the promotion of such facilties filled the vacuum of a collapsing Fordist mode of regulation of ‘ethnic minorities’ (see also Samers, 1997a for a discussion in the automobile industry). Ironically, this promotion served to politically mobilize immigrants and ethnic minorities around particular national, cultural, and religious (notably Islamic) commonalities. Thus,

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during the 198Os, policies of ‘integration’ sought to stimulate the ‘cultural origins’ of immigrants while assuming that immigrants would be ‘assimilated’ into a republican ideal of citizenship.

What are the implications then of the grand republican discourses and the policies of integration for the social exclusion of immigrants? First, it is true that France’s ‘model of citizenship’ is discursively ambivalent, oscillating between a language of assimilation or integration, and a language of multiculturalism, and increasingly inflected with jus domicili restrictions. Thusjus soli and the denial of ethnic minorities seems to work more at the level of the lofty speeches of the elite politicians than it does in the urban suburbs. Yet this ambivalence also manifests itself in local situations, and one need not look any further than the notorious ‘headscarf affair’ (see Feldblum, 1993). Similarly, central urban policy in France seems to, on the one hand, have an interest in combatting social exclusion without a recognition of ethnic minorities (even though ‘ethnic minorities’ seem to numerically dominate the 500 areas targeted for such policies), and on the other leave the initiative to local politicians who in turn leave the initiative to local associations. Thus, national urban policy denies the existence of ‘ethnic minorities’ consistent with the ideological contours of jus soli, but also allows for at least a rhetorical multi-culturalism (Barou, 1996; Coleman, 1994; for a critique of the concept of ‘multi-culturalism’, see Vertovec, 1996). In short, the ambiguities of the ideological construction of nationhood are scaled down to the ambiguities of exclusion and inclusion at more localized scales. Similarly, these conflicting ideological shifts are also manifested in the effects which the ‘republican and universalist ideal’ may have on various forms of racism in France. Wievorka, (1993) has spoken of the crisis of the republican state and of the universalist pretensions of the French state as one explanation for the ‘new racism’ (racism based around difference rather than inferiority) in France. If we are to believe Wievorka, then the grand discourses of the republic may help to explain the rise of the Front National, and the heinous acts of racist violence which have marked France’s recent history.

The Netherlands seems to have incorporated both elements of jus soli and jus sunguinis. Without a

republican or ethnocultural conception of nationhood, there is some question as to whether integration policies in the 1970s were influenced by the legacy of verzuiling (or pillarisation of society).14 On the one hand, for (Barou, 1997) and (Koopmans and Kriesi, 1997), the verzuiling have provided the groundwork for the considerable tolerance for difference in the Netherlands. On the other hand, (Bousetta, 1997) argues that immigrants and ethnic minorities never benefited from verzuiling and (Bryant, 1997) maintains that ideological ‘depillar- isation’ is occurring alongside organizational ‘pillarisation’ since the large-scale immigration of the 1960s. Yet Bryant presents convincing evidence to suggest that the promotion of Islam reflects the organizational ‘pillarisation’ of religious commonalities. Thus, rather than pursue the repatriation of workers in the 197Os, the Dutch state pursued a discursive form of ‘multiculturalism’ in an attempt to ‘emancipate ethnic communities’, and to suppress social and economic inequalities while seek- ing to develop an ‘equality of chance’. The state then began in 1979 to speak of ‘ethnic minorities’ rather than of immigrants. Continuing in the 198Os, the Dutch state sought especially to teach ‘minority’ languages in official Dutch schools. Private Muslim and Hindu schools were opened with the support of public funds. The central state promoted com- muntarian associations at the national, provincial, and municipal level, and it created consultative committees with members elected by immigrant associations. These were supported by new laws which required that the associations be consulted for every decision regarding the immigrant ‘communities’. The Netherlands agreed to extend municipal voting rights to immigrants in 1985,r5 following Sweden’s decision in 1975. Residence permits were extended in the name of a ‘better integration’, and persons having resided in the Netherlands for more than 5 years (if they fulfilled certain critiera, including stable employment and housing) can obtain an unlimited residence card and/or citizenship through naturalisation. After 10 years the card can not be revoked, except in the case of a serious crime. Dual nationality became acceptable in December, 1991. Finally, immigrants in the Nether- lands have the same rights and responsabilities as nationals, except for certain employment sectors such as the police or the army (Barou, 1997; Bryant, 1997; OECD/SOPEMI, 1995; van den Bedem, 1994).


However, in the early 199Os, this policy had been criticised by academics for its ‘clientalism’, in that it favored only the elites among the different ethnicities. More importantly, such policies were criticised because it was decided a priori that the immigrants did not wish to pursue their ‘integration’ by any other means than by the channels of their ‘community of origin’. To further the doubt focused on the policies of the 1970s and 198Os, the second report of the Scientific council for government policy in 1989 suggested that the promotion of the culture of ethnic minorities and the amelioration of their social and economic situation were incom- patible. The state had announced that it was the responsability of the government to provide better employment opportunities for immigrants, but also to reduce their reliance on the welfare state. These critiques gained considerable credibility as it was demonstrated that after several years in the Nether- lands, many immigrants were incapable of speaking Dutch, had little chance for finding stable employment and the policy which aimed to ‘integrate’ immigrants, resulted in only marginalizing them. The implications of these criticisms convinced the Dutch government to greatly reduce the subsidies directed towards the educational cultural, and language teaching of ethnic minorities. Current ideology now promotes the self-organization and self-procurement of such activities, and not public policy promotion. Rather the shift is to encouraging the economic revitalization of declining urban areas, and to promote the active responsibility of citizens to improve their local residential areas. This was in part a response to community leaders who accused the government of ‘paternalism’, but also as a response to public hostitlity to the promotion of ‘the cultures of origin’. (Baillergeau, 1997; Barou, 1997; Rath et al., 1991).

In terms of Barou’s insistence on understanding concrete situations, rather than abstract ideological propositions, even Barou himself (1997, p. 95) recognizes the weight of the verzuiling, and in any case it is not at all clear that the current neo-liberal promotion of the ‘economic’ as a solution to the problems of ‘multiculturalism’ (what he calls a “positive advance that is able to produce a more empiricist and realistic vision of things” (p. 95) will continue ad injinitum as the panacea of inclusion which both Barou and the Dutch state hope.

During the post-war period, the West German government did not consider Germany to be a ‘country of immigration’, despite the reality of a slowly growing community of Italian and Turkish ‘denizens’. German integration policies have been based upon the historical foundation of volk (‘one nation, one culture’), and represent the opposite of a multicultural policy. In particular, the state uncompromisingly insists on the teaching of the German language, and the denial of the centrality of other languages. The German state does not maintain a legally codified immigration policy, though a number of unstated preferences exist. Owing to the foundations of modem German statehood (jus sanguinis), ethnic Germans (Aussieder) who return from Eastern Europe have quasi-automatic access to nationality and thus full citizenry rights. For others who wish to naturalize (such as labour migrants and political refugees and other asylum- seekers), the process is considerably more difficult, and they are required to demonstrate ‘cultural assimilation’ (knowledge of, and loyalty to, the constitution, ‘adequate’ knowledge of the German language, ‘integration into German society’, and a commitment to the German state, etc.). In contrast to France in the post-war period, those born in Germany to foreign parents are not necessarily automatically naturalized. However a law created in 1991 has now entitled immigrants to naturalization, if they have lived and worked in Germany for fifteen years. This represents a modification of the Gusturbeiter system. There are at present four categories of immigrants in Germany; the ‘ethnic Germans’, labour migrants from EU countries and those from non-EU countries; refugees, asylum- seekers, de facto refugees and undocumented immigrants. Those with unlimited residence permits in Germany are denizens, while asylum seekers, carriers of limited work or residence permits, and undocumented aliens are not (Bru- baker, 1992; Coleman, 1994; Faist, 1995).

At least two effects stem from these policies: social citizenship (or social welfare) and specific racisms. Concerning the former, ethnic Germans have privileged access to a range of social services stemming from the Federal law of Refugees and Expellees of 1953. In 1991-1992, the state eliminated and/or reduced some of these benefits (e.g, training and language courses). Nonetheless, the status of ethnic Germans in relation to these resources still remains privileged vis-a-vis other categories of immigrants.

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In terms of guestworkers, most now hold unlimited residence permits (which means that they are denizens and share most of the same rights as citizens. However, there are some differences as related to social assistance, training, student assistance and child allowances. Moreover, a second division appears between EU and non-EU migrants. Social insurance (unemployment and pensions) are based on contributions. While all guestworkers from non-EU countries can claim social insurance (unemployment, work compensation, health benefits, and pensions, etc.), if they become unemployed, their claim to unemployment benefits can be rejected if the Federal Employment Agency (l3undesunstuZtfirArbeit) thinks that the immigrant will not be able to find work. [However, for countries with whom Germany has signed some sort of labour accord (such as Turkey), this does not apply]. Similarly, if an immigrant from a non-EU country continues to rely on social insurance in the long-term, according to the Law on Aliens, renewal of their residence permit may be rejected and may lead to expulsion. ‘New contract labourers’ from Bulgaria, the former Czechoslovakia, Poland, Romania, and Russia do not have access to social insurance benefits, although they are ‘covered’ by their home countries. Refugees can be divided into asylum-seekers, recognized refugees and de facto refugees. Asylum-seekers have only limited access to social benefits (e.g. aid to subsistence), recognized refugees have a very similar status to EU migrants, and de facto refugees have almost no access to social benefits, although they are allowed to remain in Germany under the terms of the Geneva Convention. For undocumented migrants, access to social benefits is possible if they can show evidence of regular employment, although this may jeopardize their clandestine situation and lead to expulsion. It is estimated that in 1994, some 300,000 undocumented migrants lived in Germany.

A second effect of the German conception of nationhood is racism, or more appropriately racisms which serve to contribute to the social exclusion of immigrants and ethnic minorities. (Although Bali- bar and Wallerstein, 1990, have argued that the existence of racism cannot be created by conceptions of nationhood, but rather articulated through them. Indeed, for these authors, ‘only racism produces racism’). Nonetheless, (Wilpert, 1993) has drawn a relationship between dominant and everyday ideologies of racism. For Wilpert, dominant

ideologies are those that derive from German conceptions of an ethno-cultural national state, which filter into the more ‘everyday’ and banal racisms which pervade German life. Once again, if Barou is concerned to understand the concrete forms of social exclusion, then it is his burden to explain how and why concrete forms of racist violence occur. Can this be understood without grasping the articulation of racism and nationalism (or ideological conceptions of nationhood?).

Despite Barou’s contentions, the preceding explora- tions into civic policies demonstrates that first, although all migrants and ‘ethnic minorities’ generally benefit from similar social security measures as nationals, there are Sante differences in social provisions. In addition, we have seen that certain occupations are ‘out of limits’ to immigrants and perhaps some ‘ethnic minorities’ (depending upon ‘denizen’ status). This seems to lend credence to what Wihtol de Wenden, (1996) called a ‘Europe of castes’. Second, the ‘headscarf affair’ shows that national ideologies have a way of manifesting themselves in the seemingly most local and banal of incidences as was the case in this particular affair. To not see national ideologies as ‘concrete’ is to commit a fundamental error in the understanding of ‘scale’ and social life. Finally, and perhaps most importantly, is that while Barou may insist that the divergent European ‘policies of integration’ do not explain political participation, they certainly serve to (re)-produce ideologies of exclusion based on formerly exclusionary nationalist/racist ideologies (see e.g. Brubaker, 1992; Schijnwtider, 1996).

Lubour markets and unemployment

The so-called transition to ‘post-Fordism’ (especially industrial restructuring and the transformation of welfare states) fundamentally transformed the way in which immigrants were incorporated into European countries. However, a few caveates are required here. First, while the effects of industrial restructuring and the growing significance of the service sector have received wide attention, it is simply incorrect to continue to assert that the EU is somehow ‘post-industrial’. Manu- factures actually are a growing, not decreasing, component of exports, even if manufacturing employment has declined. At the same time, even technologically-restructured industries still require


a certain ‘window’ of ‘un or sem-skilled’ (immigrant) labour. Nevertheless, the restructuring of industrial sites (through technical and organizational innovation) has had a definitive effect on immigrant employment (again for a specific case, see Samers, 1997a; 1998). Thus, there may be post industrial spaces and Zubour markets, rather than a post-industrial EU (Samers, 1997a; Samers and Woods, 1998; Seifert, 1996). Second, the considerable employment of immigrants and ethnic minorities in services is hardly a new phenomenon.‘6 For example, a study of Algerians in France from 1946 to 1968 showed that Algerian immigrants were primarily working in services rather than in industry (29.6% for all Algerians, and 48.8% of women in 1946, though these figures declined to 10.5% and 42.1% by 1968) (Singer-Kerel, 1983). Similarly, (Castles, 1984) reported that in West Germany, about 25% of foreigners were employed in services, transport, public authorities, and social insurance in 1981 (Table 5.3, p. 130). Third, the employment of immigrants or ‘ethnic minorities’ depends greatly on ‘generational status’ in terms of qualifications and mobility (Seifert, 1996). One way of con- ceptualizing these changes are to view them as a shift from (immigrant/ethnic minority) employment in the ‘exposed sector’ (internationally traded goods and services) to the ‘sheltered sector’ (local, urban traded services) (Kloosterman, 1996).”

While immigrants and ‘ethnic minorities’ may be under more pressure to accept jobs in the low-wage sector than nationals, unemployment has nonetheless increased dramatically for these groups since the 1970s and 1980s. Let us briefly examine some absolute differences in unemployment rates between immigrants and nationals in the 1990s.” In Austria in 1994, the national unemployment rate averaged 7.0%, while it stood at 9.1% for immigrants and ethnic minorities (OECD/SOPEMI, 1995). In France, in the same year, while the unemployment rate for nationals measured 11.6%, it remained between 20-24% on average for all immigrants, and 27% for non-EU immigrants (OECDISOPEMI, 1995; INSEE-EnquCtes Emploi, March, 1994, cited in Belheine, 1996). More specifically, the average unemployment rate for all foreign womelz was about 35% in France in 1993 (Body-Gendrot, 1996), and a staggering 48% of Turkish women were unemployed in 1990 (Salom, 1996). Similarly, in one study of Sarcelles (a northern suburb of Paris) in the early 199Os, the

unemployment rate stood at 20% for Antillais immigrants, and 75% of this 20% were women (Veillard-Baron, 1994). In Germany, in the old Lander, the national unemployment rate hovered around 8.3%, while the average for immigrants and ethnic minorities ranged between 10.6 and 15.3%, and around 17-18% for Greeks, Italians, and Turks (OECD/SOPEMI, 1995, based on 1993 statistics). In the Netherlands, the national unemployment rate hovered around 12% in 1996, but about 7% for nationals, and 21% to 36% for different ethnic minorities (Barou, 1997; OECD/SOPEMI, 1995). Furthermore, the increasing participation of ‘white indigenous’ Dutch women is pushing out immigrants and ‘ethnic minorities’ from the service sector which has been expanding rapidly in the Netherlands. Among Turkish and Moroccan women, the rate of participation is only 14 and 11 percent respectively (Kloosterman, 1996). What is even more striking (disturbing?) is that in a survey of undocumented immigrants in Amsterdam, more than 33% did not have a job (Burgers and Engbersen, 1996). In Sweden in 1994, the average unemployment rate for immigrants and ethnic minorities stood at 21%, while it ranged from 17% for non-Nordic Europeans, to 37% for non-EU immigrants (OECD/SOPEMI, 1995).

The shifting patterns of employment and unemployment, including the increasing importance of the service or ‘sheltered’ sector for immigrants and ethnic minorities has been interrogated through the lens of the ‘global cities’ paradigm (for example the work of Saskia Sassen, Roger Waldinger and Michael Iapp, and Chris Hamnett). Sassen has emphasized the rise of producer and personal services in large cities such as London, New York, and Tokyo, while Hamnett has warned against using this thesis in the context of Europe. If Sassen has explored the demand-side of labour markets, Waldinger and Lapp emphasize the role of ‘supply- side factors’ (essentially demographic processes) in facilitating the development of ethnic minority (immigrant?) labour markets in these large cities. Essentially, what is argued is that it is the sub- urbanization of (white) nationals out of metropolitan centers and the consequential replacement in housing and jobs by ethnic minorities which has marked ‘global cities’ as particularly ‘attractive’ to ethnic minorities (Body-Gendrot, 1996; Burgers and Engbersen, 1996; Kloosterman, 1996). Given this debate between demand-driven and supply-

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driven labour markets, (Kloosterman, 1996) attempts to explore which of these is a more powerful argument in the context of Amsterdam. While he exercises caution in interpretating the results, he finds that both Sassen’s and Waldinger and Lapp thesis are valid for only certain ethnicities in the Amsterdam labour market, and that their arguments need to be understood in the context of when specific immigrants entered the city’s labour markets. Moreover, substantial intra-ethnic differences (gender inequalities are rightly given notable attention here) are manifest in the types of economic activity in which these ethnicities are involved. Thus, ‘global city’ arguments need to be temporally fine-tuned relative to different European states and the various inter- and intra-ethnic differences. In addition, the ‘attractiveness’ of global cities (especially for housing) is problematic when examining specific cities such as Paris, where rents in the housing sector soared during the 1980s and 1990s (Body-Gendrot, 1996). In short, Kloosterman argues that both the ‘supply’ of immigrants and ethnic minorities in European metropolises, and the demand by producer and personal services function together to produce these particular labour markets. His focus on supply and demand represents an advance upon the debate. However, it tends to neglect the role of the mult-scaled state in these ‘global cities’. In fact, a better way of thinking about the role of immigrants and ethnic minorities in labour markets is to adopt Peck’s, (1996) conceptualisation. Founded upon basic principles of labour segmentation theory, he sees labour markets as the outcome of production imperatives (the equivalent of ‘demand factors’), processes of social reproduction (‘supply-side factors’), and forces of regulation (the role of the state). This framework for examining labour markets avoids a neo-classical dependence on ‘factors’ and provides a richer, more dialectical understanding of labour markets through an acknowledgement of state processes.

Whether in the industrial or service sectors, the bulk of immigrants and ‘ethnic minorities’ are in low- paid and ‘low-skilled’ jobs (whether or not there is wage discrimination along citizenship lines) (see Seifert, 1996). Many of the jobs in the service sector are part-time which means they are not necessarily accompanied by benefits, and may even be less remunerative than reliance on full-time benefits (Kloosterman, 1996). By all accounts, the participation of immigrants and ‘ethnic minorities’

in ‘informal labour markets’ is generally higher than for nationals. This often includes ‘sweat shop’ work in large metropolitan cities (primarily in garment related industries), or work in the restau- rant, food retailing, and cleaning services. The anecdotal evidence suggests that ‘sweatshop’ employment is growing. For example, in Amster- dam, a Dutch newspaper reported the existence of 500 illegal garment workshops employing undocumented Turkish workers (NRC Handelsblad, 8 October, 1993, cited in Overbeek, 1993). The liberal tendency of extending rights to migrant workers is hampered by their often ‘clandestine’ condition. Employers then benefit from their illegal- ity because they are not required to pay welfare contributions. Thus, both employers and employees (the migrants) recognize that their own marketabil- ity is dependent upon their semi-clandestine presence. Many will ‘regularize’ their situation, but still declare that they are unemployed in order to protect their jobs (Cesarani and Fulbrook, 1996; Knights, 1996).

Racism and discrimination are witnessed in a range of both professional and non-professional work- places (Kloosterman, 1996; Samers, 1997a), as (Wrench, 1991) shows especially in the London Underground Ltd. In France, foreigners do not have access to civil service jobs; immigrants having French nationality (ethnic minorities?) have a higher level of scholastic achievement, reach more highly qualified jobs than do foreigners, and they maintain independent forms of employment (arti- sans, shopowners). Immigrants are frequently geo- graphically constrained in their access to employment through regional restrictions on employment owing to the nature of their work and residence permits. Unemployment is gendered; while men have suffered intensely from job losses in declining or restructured industries, women have persistently high rates of unemployment, though this varies enormously from one nationality to the next. Indeed, it is imperative to recognize that across the EU, inter-ethnic differences abound in terms of employment. In the Amsterdam labour market, in contrast to the situation in the mid-1990s, the unemployment rate for immigrants was uctuaZly lower than that for nationals prior to 197911980, though not all ethnic groups were/are equally affected by unemployment. Turks and Moroccans were affected by unemployment to a much greater


extent than Antillais, Surinamese, and other south- em European migrants (Kloosterman, 1996). The same ethnicities will even have very different labour market activities and activity rates in different states. Thus, for example, Moroccans have a low rate of entrepreneurship in the Netherlands, while they have a very high rate of entrepreneurship in France.

In sum, arguments which focus on ‘global cities’ or the shift in employment from the ‘exposed to the sheltered sector’ are not inappropriate, but they cannot be determinate in themselves. ‘Global city’ arguments sometimes slip into ‘spatial feteshism’ where large cities become responsible for the types of labour markets, rather than the wider processes of capitalism. It would be more wise to adopt an historically and spatially-sensitive labour segmentation theory (as some radical economists, sociolo- gists, and economic geographers have) in order to understand the incorporation (or conversely the unemployment) of immigrants and ethnic minorities into the labour markets of the EU. This would highlight the importance of the restructuring of welfare regimes, and the racisms, patriarchies, and ageisms which they internalize. At present, much of the literature on immigration and labour markets (with some notable exceptions) remains largely descriptive, overly-simplistic, and theoretically impoverished.

Political citizenship: social exclusion and the participation of immigrants

In an innovative essay, Zincone, (1998) conjectures that if there is a ‘threat’ at all from immigration to the democracy of European states, it does not stem from some form of ‘Muslim fundamentalism’, but actually from the lack of political participation of immigrants. Although Zincone’s critique is con- vincingly argued and powerful in its admonishing tone, we need to further interrogate the thesis that there is somehow a democratic defecit with regard to the participation of immigrants and ethnic minorities. Rvo problems immeditately surface here. First, as discussed in the opening section of this paper; it is not clear to whom exactly Zincone is referring to-immigrants, denizens or even margizens? For example, some ‘denizens’ may have limited political rights owing to their length of residence, in contrast to recent immigrants who might not share the same eligibilities (Hammar,

1993). This question, however, may be partly resolvable by the form which immigrant/ethnic minority ‘politics’ is currently assuming (I discuss this subsequently below). The second problem is what is meant by ‘politics’ itself. In this sense, we might define politics as ‘the public debate over values’ (see Gottdiener, 1987). In other words, ‘politics’ may include a wide array of participatory activities from organizing ‘associations’ to trade union activity, or having a voice on consultative commitees, and the politicization of immigrants cannot be ‘read-off’ electoral participation (Bou- setta, 1997).

It is argued that as tax-payers, immigrants should have similar voting rights as nationals since they are economic actors in political territories which create policies that affect them (‘no taxation without representation’) (Hammar, 1993; Mestiri, 1990). And it is often claimed that the demands of immigrants will not be heeded unless political parties are dependent upon them as voters (Cole- man, 1994). Yet at the EU level, voting and standing in local and European elections is only guaranteed for citizens of member states, though Denmark, Finland, Ireland, the Netherlands, and Sweden have all extended municipal and regional voting rights to those immigrants emigrating from outside the EU (Coleman, 1994; Faist, 1995; Oriol, 1996).19 Iron- ically, the European Commission sees political participation as central to integration. “There is no better integration than to allow for the participation in designating the municipal apparatus” (cited in Oriol, 1996, p.50; translation MS). Fierce debate continues to surround the right to vote in local elections for non-EU immigrants in France and Germany, while Hamburg’s (and other localities’) introduction of local electoral rights for immigrants has been ruled unconstitutional by the German Federal Constitutional Court. As in France, however, this would require substantial revisions to the constitution (Coleman, 1994; Hammar, 1993). Scandanavia (all countries), the Netherlands, and two cantons in Switzerland have all granted local and regional electoral rights to ‘denizens’, though not for the most pivotal national elections. In any case, many have argued that local elections are more crucial for at least newly arriving immigrants, than are national elections. In France, about a dozen communes (including larger towns such as Amiens) have immigrant representatives on the municipal councils, although they do not have the right to

138 M. Samers

vote. In Sweden, some 600 ‘ethnic minority’ candidates gained seats on municipal councils in 1988, including 100 ‘foreigners’, and 400 naturalized or ‘second-generation’ immigrants (Hammar, 1993).

Yet for Wihtol de Wenden, (1996), the contours of political participation, or rather what constitutes public debate, has changed for immigrants and ethnic minorities in France. In what she calls the ‘new citizenship’, citizenship is about a decen- tralized political participation, (sometimes) far from the ‘traditional’ political corridors of power. In Francophone countries (including Belgium and Luxembourg), this form of politics often centres around la vie ~associutive (Barou, 1996; Bousetta, 1997; Cordeiro, 1996b). It is concrete, grassroots, young, participative, and intercultural. Based in the urban surburbs, it focuses on housing, families, school, and racism. We might call this a ‘guerilla’ political citizenship framed by mobilizations around religion (often, but not always, shaped by Islam rather than Christianity). In this sense, the distinction between immigrants, denizens, and ethnic minorities breaks down as they mobilize politically around similar issues. But if this ‘new citizenship’ is very localized in specific urban areas, it also has the European terrain in its sight, as diasporic communities transcend intra-European borders (Wihtol de Wenden, 1996). The anecdotal evidence for political participation at a local level is strong, at least in France (Bousetta, 1997; Kepel, 1987; Hargreaves, 1991; Wihtol de Wenden, 1995), and more so if we broaden this defnition to trade union participation (see Samers, 1997a). Yet even Zincone (1993) discusses the significance of political involvement in Italy, albeit with an acute attention to the limitations of such involvement (see also Poinsot, 1993). Nonetheless, such local political initiatives have had their ‘successes’, and this has transpired up to the European-level. To serve as one example among many, Kollwelter, (1996) reports on the role of the CLAE (Comitk de Liaison des Associations d’lhzngers) in relation to the political wishes of essentially Portuguese immigrants in Luxembourg. Since 1920, immigrant workers have participated in a corporatist arrange- ment through ‘work chambers’ to which they contributed money, but were not allowed to vote together with nationals for elected officials. The refusal of ASTI (Ussociution de Soutien aux

Travuikurs Xmmigrtk) to pay its dues for its own workers because of this discrimination forced the Court of Justice of the European Commission to pursuade the Luxembourg government to recognize the common vote of all immigrants and nationals together for elected officials within these work chambers.

Nevertheless, like Zincone, Hammar, (1993) has also admitted alarm at the low level of participation among immigrants. True, the levels of formal participation in local elections seems to be falling, rather than rising, and it is difficult to speak of democracy when the right to vote is divided between EU immigrants and non-EU immigrants in many member states. Moreover, the consultative committees which were encouraged and established by European governments are increasingly being abandoned by immigrants because they have neither real electoral power, nor are they financed by taxes. As Hammar writes of immigrant representatives in Sweden, “This was not real democracy, they said, only a substitute for it” (Hammar, 1993, p.125). While there are real obstacles to the formal participation of immigrants and denizens’, etc. including the generalization of the right to vote in local elections, there are a myriad of ways in which immigrants and ethnic minorities participate in the local shaping of their lives, and this should be recognized.

Conclusions

If immigrants and ethnic minorities may be considered as ‘post-colonial subjects’, then it is striking that the literature on migration has only recently been shaped by the ‘post-colonial’ debate, and that the ‘de-essentialization’ of ethnicity has only spar- ingly entered into ‘mainstream’ journals on migration. Indeed, liberal journals such as International migration review offer little critical thought on the representation of immigrants and ethnic minorities. I argued that because of the bewildering array of legal measures and psychological ambiguities of diaspora, the very categories of ‘immigrant’ and ‘ethnic minority’ are insufficient in a sociological (hermenutic) sense. Thus, how should academics or other observers speak (if at all?) about immigrants or ethnic minorities without invoking essentialist


conceptions of ethnicity? (should this translate into a denial of ethnicity? is this only an empirical question?). I cannot adequately respond to this question in this paper, and I have used social exclusion in purposely ambiguous ways, although I suggested as a way forward that we might frame the discussion in light of what Giddens calls the ‘double hermeneutic’ (the different languages of academics and the social subjects which they study).

While careful not to adopt an over-analytical or an over-intellectualizating approach to the difficulties and hardships that immigrants and ethnic minorities face, I think it is necessary to specify the parameters of ‘social exclusion’, in order to fathom its overcoming. I have not by any means provided an exhaustive account of the problems of social exclusion, as this requires a more detailed explora- tion of the myriad (and often localized) processes of unemployment, etc. in European countries. Moreo- ver, if we are to be wary of immutable conceptions of immigrants and ethnic minorities, then it should be remembered that the experience of exclusion and its overcoming, will vary within and across ‘ethnic groups’, itself shaped through the determinations of class, age, gender, sexuality, and so forth. While use of the term social exclusion may be more appropriate than ‘poverty’ by emphasising process rather than simply a condition, and by acknowledging the role of political participation, it is nonetheless difficult to distinguish between what might be considered processes of social exclusion, and the processes of ‘inclusion’ through political participation. Again, perhaps a recognition of the ‘double hermeneutic’ is crucial. Yet this itself poses problems because as Bachmann, (1994) writes

Pity the suburbs, and ask how anyone can live there, and they will defend it to the death. Maintain a relativistic discourse, and insist that a life of concrete is no worse than anywhere else, and you will find yourself up against the unfortunate showing off their wounds and criticizing you for not understanding their unhappiness. Both of these positions belong to them. They are recognizable in their fascination for the city centre and its lights, and in their affection for the poor, friendly suburbs. All at the same time, they spit on the rich and love the estate, and they like the rich and hate the estate. Everything depends on places, moments, and those who ask the questions. The importance of methodology is therefore fundamental: one more time, the tools of investigation are not neutral (p. 135; translation MS).

Thus, at the same time it is necessary to understand the production of social exclusion, perhaps it is equally important to promote ‘marginality’. I argued further that the concept of integration is deeply flawed. In many conceptions of ‘integration’, the ‘receiving society’ is seen as a static entity-a space into which immigrants and ethnic minorities participate, rather than produce themselves.

In other words, the prejudices of the majority are universalized as cultural norms to which members of ethnic minorities are expected to conform, or else. The forms of difference that are acceptable are theme park differences (Cesarani and Fulbrook, 19%, p.11).

Thus, we might argue that there is no teleology to integration. Neither immigrants nor ethnic minorities, nor for that matter, nationals, can ever be integrated.

I have drawn a tentative link here between the discourses of social exclusion, notions of an ‘underclass’, and the decline in a radical/working class politics. It has been suggested in this paper, that the very discourse of social exclusion (and thus its overcoming through inclusion) may represent a ‘neo-liberal’ discourse which has served to supplant (suppress?) other political languages. Indeed, to define a group or individual as ‘socially excluded’ (especially when policy intervention is envisioned) is to plan for their ‘inclusion’-a process which might be seen as a form of ‘regulating the poor’ (Piven and Cloward, 1971), rather than envisioning radical possibilities for overcoming the very basis of inequality itself.

Social exclusion assumes a wide variety of forms, including the role which immigrants/ethnic minorities play in structuring the labour markets of especially large European metropolises. Though the ‘global city’ paradigm, industrial restructuring, or the rise of the service sector may serve as adequate explanatory frameworks, I suggested that they often suffer from ‘spatial fetishism’ and/or are overly- simplistic, neglecting a more nuanced ‘sociology of migration’. What is required is a more theoretically sophisticated conceptualisation of labour markets, and I proposed that an historically-sensitive labour segmentation theory would be enormously fruitful here.

140 M. Samers

While Barou claims that the social exclusion of immigrants cannot be understood from grand theo- ries of ideological and legal differences in the countries of immigration, but rather from concrete sociological studies, these ideological and legal distinctions serve to (re-)produce racist nation- alisms (thus corresponding to a form of discursive [material] exclusion discussed earlier) which in turn reverberate through European states, and reinforce all manner of discriminations (see also Silverman, 1995). If one of the strengths of the term ‘social exclusion’ (rather than poverty) is its acknowledgement of political participation, then social exclusion may actually produce and redefine this participation around what Boumama, (1996) calls ‘new solidar- ities borne. of insecurity’. I discussed how forms of political participation are emerging (through the power of ‘associations’, especially in France), and how according to Wihtol de Wenden, this represents a ‘new citizenship’. Whether it is actually ‘new’ or not is I think highly suspect, but perhaps anyway we need to re-think ‘citizenship’ as much at the level of the urban suburb or even a single estate, as at the level of Europe.

‘Social exclusion’ as its elements are convention- ally understood in the literature will continue to marginalize immigrants and ethnic minorities if we continue to uncritically examine the very discourses we use, and if we yield to some form of liberal vision of European states. A vision whereby so- called ‘limits’ are expressed as to the capacity of EU countries to ‘absorb’ immigrants because of limited resources. In a Europe where income disparities are increasing, not to mention outside the political frontiers of Europe, the only limits are those that exist within the powerful and the oppressive political and economic elite who refuse to relinquish this power. Democracy is not an endpoint, it is a process, and to ensure the democratic nature of the EU, we should remember that, as Barbalet writes:

A political system of equal citizenship is, in reality, less than equal if its is part of a society divided by unequal conditions (cited in Hill, 1994, p.77).

Arguments which claim the contrary stem from people who are the beneficiaries of ‘social exclusion’ rather than from those who must live its brutality.

Acknowledgements-Many thanks to the anony- mous referees, and to Gerard Delanty and Richard Kiitter for providing valuable comments on an earlier version of this paper.

Notes

1. Though many have attempted to more accu- rately explore the parameters of social exclusion (e.g. Room, 1995a) or measure it (e.g. Moulaert, 1995) it is often employed liberally by academics with little critical thought.

2. It should be recognized however, that the conditions of ‘depravation’ of some nationals (such as the homeless, etc.) are similar to many ‘margizens’ (Martiniello, 1995).

3. However, some have questioned this supposed decline in ‘social protection’ as a percentage of GDP, which seems to have risen in most countries from 197&1990, with the exception of Belguim, Germany and Ireland (see Hirst and Thompson, 1996)

4. Room is referring here to (Esping-Andersen’s, 1990) The three worlds of welfare capitalism.

5. This is taken from the idea of primary and secondary jobs as defined by labour segmentation theorists (for a review, see Peck, 1996)

6. However, gender and sexuality are categories which are used to describe members of the underclass to denote their deviance, rather than the way in which class (or an underclass) is constituted through patriarchy, sexism, to denote the differential experiences of those supposedly belonging to this group. This might suggest that the underclass (because chaotic and leaving out other determinations) has no explanatory power.

7. Another problem here is that the ‘secondary sector’ itself is extremely heterogenous (thus difficult to define), and often people who accept jobs in the ‘secondary sector’ are doing so in order to supplement an already existing income.

8. Certainly, there are those on the left who adhere to a version of the ‘underclass’ thesis, not for purposes of blame, but rather for ‘corrective’ measures, and here we could debate at length about the appropiateness of those policies of addressing the problem of either a supposed ‘underclass’ or the socially excluded.

9.

10.

11.

12.

13.

14.


For Bastenier and Dasetto, (1993) one of the ways in which immigrants are ‘included’ is by ‘conformism through individual mobility’. This refers to a “form of inscription in public space which adapts itself to structuration (it is in this sense conformist), but which at the same time seeks to enlarge within it the constraints which allow a process of upward mobility to be realised” (p. 273 translation MS). Bearing in mind that different cultures will be hegemonic at different scales (T.V., the neigh- borhood, national political institutions, etc.) The significance of patriarchy in the context of ‘integration’ has been analyzed abundantly in terms of Muslim immigrants in Europe, where new relations between fathers and their families are transformed through immigration. It is important to recognize that the consolida- tion (meaning the establishment of a wide fabric of institutions supportive of nationally or ethnically-based groups in the host country) of diasporic communities occurred at different times for different ethnicities. For example, the development of Italian communities in the 1960s in Germany and the racist attitudes which developed vis-a-vis these communities prompted integration policies considerably before the period which one typically associated with integration policies (i.e. the late 197Os/198Os) (Schiinwalder, 1996). Overbeek (1995) claims that decisions about migration to Europe, at a European level are inter-governmental, rather than supra-national. Given this point, it is less than an obvious proposition that immigration policies (including citizenship) are being re-scaled to a ‘supru- national’ level. From the 16th century, following the liberation from Spanish control, the Republic of United Provinces divided the country into separate religous and cultural communities. This form of organization was referred to as verzuling. Each denomination or ideological group main- tained their own political parties, and their religous, cultural, educational, syndical, and even sanitary infrastructures. This ‘pillarised’ organization sought to form a system of trade complementarity, and was highly institution- alized in the corridors of the state (Barou, 1997). According to Bryant (1997), verzuling therefore allowed communities to co-exist with

15.

16.

17.

18.

19.

‘institutional separtion [but] without geographical separtion’ (p. 165). Considerable turn-out in the first election in which immigrants participated in 1986 (48% for immigrants compared to 61% for nationals) convinced many policy analysts and academics that the right to vote would be an important instrurnnt of their social and economic integration. However, this was followed by a much smaller participation rate in 1990, which then convinced observers that the right to vote actually had very little effect on the ‘integra- tionl’ of ethnic minorities. This eventually fueled a change in direction for integration policies in the Netherlands. It is recognized here, that the distinction between ‘industry’ and ‘services’ is not at all clear, through a lack of available space does not allow for this debate to be resoloved in this

Paper. Here too problems arise, since one could certainly question the very distinction between industry and services, or what extent services (which may or may not be dependent upon local manufacturing employment) are actually more resilient to employment rationalisation than industry. The difficulties encounted in measuring unemployment in a cross-national context are notorious. In France, for example, depending upon their ‘denizen’ status, immigrants and ‘ethnic minorities’ ar often grouped together. Most young people of foreign origin in France have French nationality; thus they are aggregated into statistics as French, making it difficult to discern discrimination. Not having a job or non-participating does not automatically mean a person is officially registered as unemployment. In France, two million unemployed people have no access to any resources, and this is the same for those aged 16 to 25 who do not have any access to the RMI (the basic minimum income) and who see little interest in registering with the national employment agency (Bachmann, 1994). There are a few exceptions to this, notably in Portugal and in the UK. In the UK for example, those immigrants arriving from the common- wealth are subject to immigration controls and benefit from electoral rights. Those originating from other EU states are allowed to reside freely in the UK, but do not, at the present

142 M. Samers

moment, have electoral rights (except for Irish Castles, S. and Miller, M. (1993) The age of migration.

citizens). All other foreigners are subject to Macmillan, London.

immigration controls and do not benefit from Cesarani, D., and Fulbrook, M. (eds) (1996) Citizenship,

nationality and migration in Europe. Routledge, Lon- electoral rights (Blanc and Smith, 1996). don.

Coleman, D. (1994) International migrants in Europe: adjustment and integration processes and policies. In

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