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Immigration Governance in East Asia
This book analyzes immigration policies in East Asia in the context of contemporary global migration flows and mobility. To assess how global norms of migration have impacted the East Asian migration region and explore regional migration trends, the book contains 13 case studies which investigate the regulation of immigration in China, Hong Kong, Japan, South Korea, and Taiwan. Three analytical strands, namely, norm diffusion, identity politics, and citizenship, build the theoretical framework for the case studies which investigate how regional and national norms, discourses, and institutions affect local communities and migration patterns. In particular, the book analyzes contemporary issues such as immigration policy reforms, practices of inclusion and exclusion in local communities, and discourses on multiculturalism and risk. The book utilizes a comparative perspective which enables readers to reflect on the role of national identity, international organizations and law, public security concerns, and labour market demands in the articulation and implementation of contemporary immigration policy in East Asia. This book substantially complements the existing literature on immigration governance and interregional migration mobility in East Asia and will be of interest to academics in the fields of East Asian studies, public policy, immigration and migration studies, and comparative politics. Gunter Schubert is Chair Professor of Greater China Studies and Director of the European Research Center on Contemporary Taiwan (ERCCT) at Eberhard Karls University Tübingen, Germany. Franziska Plümmer is a postdoctoral researcher at the Department of East Asian Studies at the University of Vienna, Austria. Anastasiya Bayok is an Einstein Project researcher at the Graduate School of East Asian Studies at Freie Universität Berlin, Germany.
Routledge Series on Asian Migration
Series Editors: Yuk Wah Chan (City University of Hong Kong), Jonathan H. X. Lee (San Francisco State University, US), and Nicola Piper (The University of Sydney, Australia) Editorial Board: Steven J. Gold (Michigan State University, US), David Haines (George Mason University, US), Pei-Chia Lan (National Taiwan University), Nana Oishi (University of Melbourne, Australia), Willem van Schendel (University of Amsterdam, The Netherlands), Biao Xiang (University of Oxford, UK), and Brenda Yeoh (National University of Singapore) 1. Racism and Resistance among the Filipino Diaspora Kristine Aquino 2. New Chinese Migrations Mobility, Home, and Inspirations Edited by Yuk Wah Chan and Sin Yee Koh 3. International Migrants in China’s Global City The New Shanghailanders James Farrer 4. Asylum-Seeking Journeys in Asia Refugees in Hong Kong and Bangkok Terence Chun Tat Shum 5. Sri Lanka’s Remittance Economy A Multiscalar Analysis of Migration-Underdevelopment Matt Withers 6. Immigration Governance in East Asia Norm Diffusion, Politics of Identity, Citizenship Gunter Schubert, Franziska Plümmer, and Anastasiya Bayok
Immigration Governance in East Asia
Norm Diffusion, Politics of Identity, Citizenship Edited by Gunter Schubert, Franziska Plümmer, and Anastasiya Bayok
First published 2021 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN and by Routledge 52 Vanderbilt Avenue, New York, NY 10017 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2021 selection and editorial matter, Gunter Schubert, Franziska Plümmer and Anastasiya Bayok; individual chapters, the contributors The right of Gunter Schubert, Franziska Plümmer and Anastasiya Bayok to be identified as the authors of the editorial material, and of the authors for their individual chapters, has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Schubert, Gunter, 1963- editor. | Plümmer, Franziska, editor. | Bayok, Anastasiya, editor. Title: Immigration governance in East Asia: norm diffusion, politics of identity, citizenship / Edited by Gunter Schubert, Franziska Plümmer and Anastasiya Bayok. Description: Abingdon, Oxon; New York, NY: Routledge, 2021. | Series: Routledge series on Asian migration | Includes bibliographical references and index. Identifiers: LCCN 2020029854 | ISBN 9780367559021 (hardback) | ISBN 9781003099543 (ebook) Subjects: LCSH: East Asia–Emigration and immigration. | East Asia–Emigration and immigration–Case studies. | Citizenship–East Asia. | Citizenship--East Asia–Case studies. | Emigration and immigration law–East Asia. | Emigration and immigration law–East Asia–Case studies. Classification: LCC JV8756.5 .I46 2021 | DDC 325.5–dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2020029854 ISBN: 978-0-367-55902-1 (hbk) ISBN: 978-1-003-09954-3 (ebk) Typeset in Times New Roman by Deanta Global Publishing Services, Chennai, India
Contents
List of figures List of tables Contributors 1
Introduction: Migration governance in East Asia: Towards an analytical framework
vii viii ix
1
FRANZISKA PLÜMMER, GUNTER SCHUBERT & ANASTASIYA BAYOK
2
Keeping immigration under control: Development and characteristics of the East Asian migration region
16
DAVID CHIAVACCI
PART I
Greater China 3
Migrant actions and government responses: African traders in the Pearl River Delta, China
41 43
BETTINA GRANSOW
4
Global city competition and new hierarchies of urban citizenship in China’s migration regime
67
ELENA MEYER-CLEMENT AND XIANG WANG
5
‘Three evils’ and ‘three illegals’: Discourses on ‘illegal’ immigration in China
91
FRANZISKA PLÜMMER
6
Migration governance at the Sino-Russian border ANASTASIYA BAYOK
115
vi
Contents
7
‘Foreign wives’, Eurasian children, and citizenship dilemmas in China
135
ELENA BARABANTSEVA
8
China and the refugee dilemma: A new asylum destination or a challenge to international norms?
155
ELENA SOBOLEVA
9
The reform of Chinese migration law and the protection of migrants’ rights
179
BJÖRN AHL AND PILAR-PAZ CZOSKE
10 On a steep learning curve in the immigration legislation: Taiwan’s proximity to sovereignty, selectivity, and benevolence
198
ISABELLE CHENG
11 The politics of mainlander immigration in post-colonial Hong Kong
225
GUNTER SCHUBERT
PART II
Japan and Korea
255
12 ‘This is not an immigration policy’: The 2018 immigration reform and the future of immigration and citizenship in Japan
257
MICHAEL STRAUSZ
13 Brazilian immigrants and multiculturalism in Japan: Local tabunka kyōsei policies and their effect on the Brazilian diaspora in Hamamatsu
277
CHALINE MONDWURF
14 Liberation from blood: The inclusion of non-citizens in the South Korean polity
295
SO YOUNG CHANG AND LUICY PEDROZA
Index
319
Figures
1.1 Immigration regimes in East Asia – an analytical framework 2.1 Migration flows to East Asian countries, 2000–2010 2.2 European experience of migration transition and the Philippines’ emigration trap 4.1 Work permits issued by the Ministry of Human Resources and Social Security 11.1 Gaining Right of Abode in Hong Kong 11.2 Mainlander immigration to Hong Kong by OWP and ‘birth tourism’, 1997–2016 11.3 Illegal immigration from the Chinese mainland, 2008–2017 12.1 Japan’s job seeker’s ratio 12.2 Changing populations of long-term residents, foreign students, and trainees and technical interns in Japan 12.3 Job seeker’s ratio and various visa statuses by prefecture, 2017 13.1 Numbers of Brazilian residents in Hamamatsu 14.1 Expiration of bills in the National Assembly 14.2 Statistics on naturalization 14.3 Statistics on loss
3 18 25 72 233 235 237 258 262 264 282 304 308 309
Tables
2.1 2.2 5.1 11.1a 11.1b 11.2 11.3 11.4 11.5 11.6 11.7 11.8
11.9 12.1 14.1 14.2 14.3
Composition of the East Asian migration region (2000) Composition of the East Asian migration region (2016) Securitization of sanfei and ‘Three Evils’ discourses Hong Kong population by place of birth and year Hong Kong population by place of birth and year First-Entry One-Way-Permit Holders (1998–2018) Visas issued under the GEP in 2018 Number of live births in Hong Kong to mainland women (2011–2018) Mainland students in Hong Kong Enforcement of anti-immigration policies Total numbers of visas and entry permits issued (2014–2017) Number of marriages registered in Hong Kong with both bridegrooms and brides being Hong Kong residents, bridegrooms/brides from the mainland, and number of issuance of certificate of absence of marriage records (claimed for the purpose of marrying in the mainland) in selected years Foreign domestic helpers by nationality and sex Job seeker’s ratio and new job seeker’s ratio by job type in Japan, January 2019 Acquisition and loss of nationality in South Korea Themes addressed by bills on nationality Themes in the Constitutional Court Cases
23 24 107 227 228 229 230 235 236 237 251
252 254 266 302 304 306
Contributors
Björn Ahl is Professor and Chair of Chinese Legal Culture at the University of Cologne. His research in Chinese law focuses on constitutional development, in particular on judicial reforms and rights litigation. Chinese administrative law and the Chinese practice of public international law is a further focal point of his research. Moreover, he investigates issues of comparative law, legal transfers, and legal culture which are related to Greater China and Chinese legal development. Björn Ahl is President of the European China Law Studies Association, Fellow at the Center for Chinese Law of the University of Hong Kong Faculty of Law, and Board Member of the Sino German Jurists Association. Elena Barabantseva is Senior Lecturer in Chinese International Politics at the University of Manchester (UK). Her research focuses on the politics of nationalism, ethnicity, race, borders, and citizenship in the context of globalizing China. She takes inspiration poststructuralist from international relations, anthropology, cultural theory, and feminist studies. She is the author of Overseas Chinese, Ethnic Minorities and Nationalism: De-Centering China (Routledge 2010), coeditor (with Claire Sutherland) of Citizenship and Diaspora (Routledge 2011), and co-editor (with William A. Callahan) and contributor to China Orders the World: Normative Soft Power and Foreign Policy (2012). Her recent articles were published in Geopolitics, the Journal of Asian Studies, The Journal of Narrative Politics, and International Political Sociology. Anastasiya Bayok is an Einstein Postdoctoral Fellow at the Graduate School of East Asian Studies (GEAS) at Freie Universität Berlin. Her main research focus is on international relations, Chinese foreign and security policy, China’s regional and global roles, and cooperation among authoritarian regimes. She currently works on a project investigating spatial orders imagined and created by China and Japan in (East) Asia. So Young Chang is a Research Fellow at the GIGA German Institute of Global and Area Studies and a doctoral candidate in Sociology at Bielefeld University. Her main research focus is on policies regarding low-skilled labour immigration schemes in the Asia-Pacific, particularly related to domestic worker migration. Between 2017 and 2020, she was a researcher in the Leibniz-funded project, ‘Every Immigrant Is an Emigrant’.
x
Contributors
Isabelle Cheng is Senior Lecturer in East Asian and International Development Studies at the University of Portsmouth. Taking Taiwan as a case study, her research focuses on migration and the Cold War in East Asia. For the former, her latest research focuses on migrant spouses’ political participation and migrant workers’ pregnancy. For the latter, she concentrates on economic mobilization for the war of retaking China, as well as the use of women broadcasters for conducting psychological warfare. She serves as the SecretaryGeneral of the European Association of Taiwan Studies (2018-2020) and is on the Advisory Board (European Members) of the European Research Centre for Contemporary Taiwan (ERCCT), University of Tubingen. She is a Research Associate of the Centre for Taiwan Studies of the School of Oriental and African Studies (SOAS), University of London. David Chiavacci is Professor in Social Science of Japan and Director of the Institute of Asian and Oriental Studies at the University of Zurich, Switzerland. His research covers political and economic sociology of contemporary Japan in a comparative perspective. He is known for his publications on social movements, social inequality, as well as Japan’s new immigration and immigration policy. His recent publications include Re-emerging from Invisibility: Social Movements and Political Activism in Contemporary Japan (Routledge, 2018, co-edited with Julia Obinger) and Japanese Political Economy Revisited: Abenomics and Institutional Change (Routledge, 2019, co-edited with Sébastien Lechevalier). Pilar-Paz Czoske graduated from Chinese Studies and Law at the University of Cologne. Her main research focus is Chinese labour law and the role of courts in China. She is currently working as a lawyer specialized in labour law advising workers’ councils and employees. Bettina Gransow is Associate Professor at the Institute of Chinese Studies, Freie Universität Berlin. Her research focus is on contemporary Chinese society and emerging social spaces, including migrants-in-the-city and mega-urban development; China’s infrastructure strategy, and its social and international dimensions. Elena Meyer-Clement is Junior Professor of China Studies and Faculty at the Graduate School of East Asian Studies (GEAS) at Freie Universität Berlin. Her research interests include China’s state capacity and multi-level governance, urbanization, rural development, and land politics, as well as the political economy of culture. Her first book investigates the changing government–business relations in the Chinese film and music industries. Currently, she is PI of the research project ‘Steering urban-rural integration: Administrative reconfiguration for a unified citizenship’. Chaline Mondwurf is a PhD candidate at the Graduate School of East Asian Studies (GEAS) at Freie Universität Berlin. Her research focuses on Japanese
Contributors
xi
society and migration. In her PhD thesis she analyzes social integration of Brazilian migrants in Japan, based on ethnographic fieldwork. Luicy Pedroza is a Research Fellow at the German Institute of Global and Area Studies (GIGA). She specializes in the comparative study of migration policies across democracies (in different world regions), political participation, and citizenship. Her research lies at the intersection of international relations, public policy, political science, and political sociology. She received her PhD from the University of Bremen in 2012, with a dissertation that received awards by the APSA and the DVPW. Pedroza is the author of Citizenship Beyond Nationality. Immigrants’ Right to Vote Across the World (2019). Franziska Plümmer is Postdoctoral Researcher and Lecturer at the Department of East Asian Studies at the University of Vienna. Her research lies at the intersection of international relations, critical security studies, and China studies. Her doctoral thesis inquired into the Chinese border regime’s regulation practices. Currently, she is working on the impact of digitalization on mobility regulation in China. Gunter Schubert is Professor of Greater China Studies at the Department of Chinese Studies, University of Tübingen. He is also Founder and Director of the European Research Center on Contemporary Taiwan (ERCCT) at this university and an Einstein Fellow at the Graduate School of East Asian Studies (GEAS), Freie Universität Berlin. His research covers local governance and policy implementation in the PRC, the reform of China’s private sector and state-business relations, cross-strait political economy including Taiwanese entrepreneurs operating in mainland China, and Taiwan domestic politics. He does also focus on immigration policy in East Asia and on a changing regional order in Asia under the impact of China’s rise. Elena Soboleva is Senior Lecturer at the Department of Asian and African Studies, National Research University Higher School of Economics (St. Petersburg). Her research interests cover China’s foreign policy, international relations, and non-traditional security in East Asia. Currently, she is engaged in the project investigating Eurasian initiatives of China, Russia and EU from the perspective of leadership theory. Michael Strausz is Associate Professor of Political Science at Texas Christian University. His research focuses on Japanese politics, Japan’s immigration policy, and the relationship between international norms and domestic politics. He recently published Help (Not) Wanted: Immigration Politics in Japan. Xiang Wang is a research associate and doctoral candidate at the Freie Universität Berlin’s Institute of China Studies. Her research interests include urbanization, population governance, central-local relations, and social policy in China. She is currently working on the research project ‘Steering Urban-Rural Integration: Administrative Reconfiguration for a Unified Citizenship’, which is funded by the German Research Foundation.
1
Introduction Migration governance in East Asia: Towards an analytical framework Franziska Plümmer, Gunter Schubert & Anastasiya Bayok
The question of how states govern migration has evolved into a ‘meta-issue’ all around the globe, intersecting in fields such as labour, social and public policy (Huysmans 2000). To our understanding, the nation-state plays a pivotal role in the regulation of transnational mobility. The transnational nature of the issue, however, increases the importance of international and regional organizations that develop norms and regulations on immigration and often directly impact subnational immigration systems and practices. The analytical perspective of immigration regimes includes these different actors and focuses on the quality of their interaction. It allows us to understand the historical development of immigration regulations, the logic of immigration bureaucracies, and the changing political constellations of actors. Accordingly, this book examines how different East Asian states and entities govern immigration and how their immigration regimes react to the pressures of global migration and mobility. Immigration regimes ‘signify the set of rules and practices historically developed by a country in order to deal with the consequences of international mobility through the production of a hierarchy – usually messy – of roles and statuses’ (Sciortino 2004, 32), and they regulate the social order by differentiating between people who belong and do not belong to a certain territory, on the one hand, and by governing mobility, on the other (Kotef 2015, 9). This book particularly engages with East Asian immigration regimes. This encompasses social and political institutions that are concerned with the regulation of immigration and the relevant discursive practices. It brings together case studies on ‘the multidirectional aspects of migration routes – emigration, immigration, and re-migration’ (Ho 2019, ix). Acknowledging this interrelation, our understanding of immigration region includes emigration, immigration and re-migration practices which are subsumed under the notion of immigration regime.1 Since the 1980s, industrialization and globalization, the integration of labour markets, and the increasing institutionalization of visa regulations have resulted in fluid global mobility. International mobility for the purpose of work or marriage, to escape violence or economic deprivation, or simply to travel – to stay abroad either permanently or temporarily – has become increasingly frequent, yet increasingly regulated. Although this is a global phenomenon, this book starts with the assumption that East Asia is a migration region that has a specific pattern
2 Franziska Plümmer, Gunter Schubert & Anastasiya Bayok of intraregional mobility. In the first chapter, David Chiavacci provides a macro perspective on East Asian mobilities that span from countries commonly defined as the core of East Asia – China, Hong Kong, Japan, Korea, and Taiwan – which represent the immigration (receiving) countries of the region, to emigration states such as Thailand and Myanmar. By relating the mobility of these Northeast and Southeast Asian countries, it becomes clear that the regional perspective is crucial in understanding the evolution of different immigration regimes. Accordingly, this book provides a detailed analysis of different immigration regimes within the region. We provide case studies from China, Hong Kong, Japan, South Korea, and Taiwan to help understand how the different immigration regimes have developed and adapted to the growing intraregional and international mobility. Regardless of the origin of the people entering a country, immigration produces a number of challenges to the host society and government. Often enough, international (refugee) migration results in a variety of concerns in the host societies, because it is supposedly importing religious extremism and terrorism, because it raises questions of fair distribution of welfare state services, or because new uncertainties feed into prevalent fears of alienation. These fears often result in political debates about how to integrate these groups, which has become a salient issue in contemporary global affairs and increasingly shapes the political agenda of host societies. Hence, immigration governance, i.e., the regulation of migration through a multitude of formal and informal institutions pertaining to both state and society, gains importance for maintaining social and political stability and regime legitimacy. Governments are struggling to integrate immigrants into labour markets and local communities while, at the same time, competing in attracting high-skilled workers in the global search for talent, and are under hard pressure to make up for demographic change. In this regard, most states face similar challenges: On the one hand, they must legitimize necessary changes in immigration policies to maintain social stability and meet the requirements of shrinking labour markets; on the other hand, once the struggle for a new immigration regime has begun, they are forced into negotiation on the question of who belongs to the nation and who does not. Hence, migration management is as much concerned with the design and implementation of migration policies as with the steering of discourses on national identity and nationhood. Against this background, this volume invited migration scholars to investigate different immigration regimes in East Asia by applying a broad analytical framework built on three theoretical concepts: norm diffusion, identity, and citizenship. The authors were free to decide which of these concepts they would like to address. Chapter drafts were discussed in two workshops hosted by the Graduate School of East Asian Studies at Freie Universität Berlin in the fall of 2017 and 2018.2 We discussed migration patterns and immigration policies in the East Asian region with participants from different disciplines such as area studies, history, anthropology, sociology, political science, and law. We tried to identify similarities in discourses and practices of immigration regulations and to assess to what extent the diffusion of norms pertaining to international law, the construction of citizenship, and the problem of national identity come into play
Introduction 3
Global Migraon
Internaonal Law
Norm diffusion
External Threats to Public Security
Demographic & Economic Change
Identy
Cizenship
Polics of Identy
Conceptualizaon of cizenship
Immigraon Regime
Figure 1.1 Immigration regimes in East Asia – an analytical framework.
in immigration governance (see Figure 1.1). Increasing global migration results in the generation of international laws and norms that often are reproduced on a national level or adapted by sub-national governments, pointing at a process of norm diffusion. The fear of alienation or religious extremism caused by the intrusion of unwanted immigrants often results in controversial public debates about national and cultural identity. Ageing populations and decreasing fertility rates in many countries elevate pressure for governments to open labour markets to muchneeded labour immigration, which often results in regulations that provide new ways to become a citizen. Hence, this volume takes stock of various approaches to the analysis of laws, discourses, and practices of immigration regimes in contemporary East Asia. We encouraged chapter authors to apply our framework as comprehensively as possible but let them decide on their analytical focus. This resulted in a kaleidoscope of theoretical perspectives and empirical findings that provide the reader with a rich fundus of new knowledge on immigration governance in contemporary East Asia, building a solid foundation for further research. Recent reforms and debates about immigration vary among countries. In China, a larger administrative reform in 2018 introduced a new State Immigration Administration that aims to design laws and regulations for the increasing number of immigrants. The Chinese government recognizes the need to further regulate existing immigration schemes as it is transitioning from an emigration to an immigration country (Liu 2015; Guo 2012). China’s immigration management is diversifying, expanding talent immigration (Zweig 2006), while narrowing access for other groups of immigrants (Liu and Ahl 2018; Barabantseva et al. 2015). Also on the verge of becoming a migration state (Hollifield and Orlando Sharpe 2017),
4 Franziska Plümmer, Gunter Schubert & Anastasiya Bayok Japan is currently revising its immigration scheme for low-skilled foreigners to help industries facing potential labour shortages. Although Japan introduced a point-based system for high-skilled workers in 2012, immigration numbers have remained low compared to other industrialized countries (Oishi 2018). Japan earned criticism for tolerating a high dependency of workers on their employers (Chiavacci 2017), e.g., to find housing. The Japanese state has begun to address its companies’ responsibility to help new immigrants to integrate in Japanese society, most notably by learning Japanese (The Guardian and McCurry 2018). In South Korea, low-skilled workers from Southeast Asia play a crucial role in civil society as they actively protest and form unions while the immigration regime largely remains employer-based (Kim and Koo 2016). A growing acceptance of foreign workers represents a change in public discourse in South Korea (Park 2017); however, the idea of multiculturalism still largely refers to ethnic-Korean returnees (Kong et al. 2010). In Hong Kong and Taiwan, immigration to and from mainland China is critical in shaping immigration policies (Ngo and Li 2016; Ku 2016; Wong et al. 2018; Friedman 2010; Deng 2016; Leung 2016), which attempt to redefine citizenship and nationality in the context of controversial debates in both localities on sovereignty. The case studies will show how these immigration policies differ in terms of related discourses on identity and citizenship. However, the entities under investigation all share a reliance on employer-based immigration systems requiring foreigners to have a signed working contract before applying for residence permits. All of these countries try to compete in the ‘global search for talent’ while sharpening regulations on the immigration of low-skilled foreigners. Moreover, they all are undergoing substantial adjustments in their immigration policies and regimes. In recent years, the literature on migration in East Asia has grown (Peterson 2012; Liu and Vaughan-Williams 2014; Xiang 2016; Charles-Edwards et al. 2016; Yeoh and Liu-Farrer 2018; Lu 2016; Castles et al. 2014). A large part of the literature focuses on specific groups of immigrants and their everyday lives that often are characterized by living in legal grey zones (Ho 2019; Ryzhova 2012; Toyota 2007; Nyíri 2017). Another strand of literature specifically addresses the question of international marriages (Barabantseva 2015; Cheng 2016; Choi 2014; Hsia 2016; Hwang and Parrenas 2018; Jones and Shen 2008; Le Bail 2017; Takahata 2015; Tseng 2017). Finally, scholars have addressed the legal construction of immigrant labels in different countries (Liu 2011) or immigration policies (Kwon 2018; Zhang and Duncan 2014). The literature addresses different actors of immigration governance, such as the NGOs fighting for the rights of immigrants (Hsu 2017; Jakimów 2017) or the brokers facilitating immigration (Lindquist et al. 2012). Moreover, the question of labour immigrants is well-represented in the analysis of transnational migration issues (Asis and Piper 2016; Athukorala 2006; Baas 2018; Bhan 2008; Ford 2012; Ford et al. 2012; Hamaguchi 2019; Hoang 2017; Li 2012; Vogel 2018; Xiang 2012). A number of edited volumes have attempted to provide comparative perspectives in Asia. For example, Cheema et al. (2011) present different cross-border governance issues, such as human trafficking, tackling the question of how human rights are implemented in migration practices in Asia. Furthermore, Battistella (2014) searched for systematic migration trends and
Introduction 5 flows in the wider Asian region, and Curley and Wong (2008) collected different accounts of how unregulated migration is constructed as a security threat in different countries across East Asia. However, the literature lacks detailed accounts of ongoing migration reforms and local struggles in the different immigration countries in the region. This volume seeks to fill this void by providing a broad overview of the evolution of immigration schemes and practices in different states and political entities in East Asia.
Norm diffusion In the absence of a comprehensive theory on immigration regimes, our analytical framework addresses three concepts usually addressed by the relevant literature on immigration regimes and policy (see Figure 1.1). The first one, norm diffusion, unravels the impact of international law on immigration-related discourses and policy-making in East Asia. Often, immigration regimes adopt or incorporate global norms (usually grounded in international law) into national policy regimes. Previous studies have shown how neoliberal rationalities of ‘border management’ travelled from international bodies such as the International Organization of Migration (IOM) into different migration regimes (Andrijasevic and Walters 2010). Some norms, such as the notion of sovereign borders, are rarely contested by states, while others, such as the non-refoulement principle for refugees, vary widely in their adaptation and application. Norm diffusion occurs through different mechanisms, such as learning, emulation, competition or coercion. It shapes international law, domestic discourses and legislation, and local practices, addressing the protection of immigrant rights, legal entitlements to residence and the understanding of citizenship (Acharya 2004; Finnemore and Sikkink 1998). Norm diffusion also pinpoints how norms trickle down from the centre to the local governments and how they are implemented at lower administrative levels. Our authors look at how governments adopt and interpret international law and how they respond to international organizations’ demands. The most recent example of international cooperation resulting in widely adopted agreement is the United Nations Global Compact of Migration, which was adopted by China, Japan and South Korea. How these countries translate the norms inscribed in this document into domestic politics is discussed in individual chapters. For Taiwan, Isabelle Cheng finds that human rights norms, which strongly build on benevolence vis-a-vis immigrants, are built into the state’s identity as a sovereign nation. The power to select immigrants coming from mainland China offers a way to effectively regulate one aspect of the complex issue of cross-strait relations. Further, Cheng argues that by denying Chinese mainland immigrants a household registration, the Taiwanese citizenship regime creates a special legal category for PRC citizens: neither a foreigner nor a citizen. The household registration hence becomes a legal device to differentiate between nationality and citizenship. While Taiwan overall tries to establish itself as a benevolent migration state, it remains highly selective over certain immigrant groups (foreign wives, overseas Chinese, etc.).
6 Franziska Plümmer, Gunter Schubert & Anastasiya Bayok David Chiavacci argues in his chapter that although the East Asian region does not build on commonly applied norms of immigration regulations, it does build on intraregional movements of migration flows that produce similarities among local immigration systems. In their chapter on the new legal framework in China, Björn Ahl and Pilar-Paz Czoske similarly define the adoption of international migration laws into local point-based immigration systems as ‘legal transplants’. They argue that the procedural differentiation of foreigners into A/B/C categories distinguishes foreigners according to their ‘human capital’, individualizing their admission. However, this does not indicate a shift from the employer-led system. Also in the Chinese case, Elena Meyer-Clement and Xiang Wang show how Chinese cities are globally competing for human capital. Cities engage in branding strategies and attempt to provide the necessary infrastructure to attract new immigrants. Their analysis shows that the diffusion of global norms in urban restructuring and city competition further reinforce the existing hierarchical order of exclusion and inclusion in China’s local citizenship regimes. In her detailed analysis of the Chinese contribution to the international refugee conventions, Elena Soboleva argues that norm diffusion does occur in terms of burden sharing, while the Chinese stance on sovereignty and non-interference within the provision of asylum remains resistant to international norms. She argues that based on identifying itself as a ‘global player’, Chinese officials rhetorically represent the view that the country needs to be more responsible with reference to refugees in third countries. However, China’s own practice differs from that rhetoric. Continuous repatriation of vulnerable people from neighbouring countries such as North Korea and Myanmar shows the limits of its engagement, highlighting how China tries to avoid politicization of the issue. Anastasiya Bayok demonstrates in her chapter how migration governance in the Sino-Russian border regions has become institutionalized at the state level. She argues that the bilateral cooperation underwent a specific process of norm diffusion at the local level, resulting in the adjustment of (im-)migration norms and practices in China as a reaction to changes in the Russian official migration policies. Chaline Mondwurf, for her part, shows how the promotion of internationalization as a norm has impacted local governments in Japan to adopt multicultural policies. In the context of the rising numbers of foreigners living in Japan, she argues that the discourse on multiculturalism increasingly informs local immigration governance. Taking those ethnic Japanese who were returning from Brazil in the 1980s and are living in Hamamatsu as a case study, she shows how the question of cultural homogeneity and ethnic hegemony is being debated. Hamamatsu was labelled an ‘Intercultural City’ by providing infrastructure to facilitate exchange among foreigners and locals in order to raise awareness for multiculturalization among Japanese citizens in the form of joint activities. Although the Japanese government adopted ‘multiculturalism’ as a model in order to bring about social integration of foreigners, the impact of these policies remains limited as foreigners are regarded as residents, not as citizens. Mondwurf concludes that policy implementation in the field of multiculturalism often stops short of supporting the settlement of foreigners.
Introduction 7
Identity The shaping of immigration regimes brings with it the negotiation of different forms of (national) identity. In this volume, analyzing identity mainly addresses the question of unwanted and ‘illegal’ immigrants, a ‘dangerous other’ from which a national self is set apart (Curley 2004; Muller 2004; Nah 2007; Barabantseva 2015). These terms build on larger narratives of ‘societal enemies’ that supposedly harm the host society by ‘stealing jobs’ or ‘being criminals’. The construction of specific discourses on wanted and unwanted immigrants often translates into diverging immigration schemes for these groups. Accordingly, discourses often represent the ‘value’ a certain group has for the host society or domestic economy, which directly translates into immigration schemes distinguishing, for instance, between low- and high-skilled-labour immigration – the former usually regarded as unwanted. Questions that inform this perspective and are discussed in the following chapters are: How is a national or local community constructed? How are integration and exclusion practised? How is (il)legality produced? What practices of belonging occur? In China, the discursive stigmatization of unwanted immigrants as sanfei – ‘three illegal immigrants’ linked to criminal behaviour – shows how these discourses are politically constructed and travel between different policy levels. Franziska Plümmer shows in her chapter how this group systematically became securitized in order to legitimize policy measures to counter ‘terrorism’. She shows how this narrative criminalizes immigrants that are unwanted by associating them with disrupting the social harmony and political stability of the state. The sanfei narrative has manifested in different immigration policies referring to them as a problem in need of regulation and has become institutionalized in the agenda of the newly established State Immigration Administration. However, the securitization of these immigrants by official discourses is challenged by local governments that are trying to legalize those immigrants who are important for economic development and the reproduction of local communities. Furthermore, Plümmer argues that the sanfei language has a striking similarity with the discourse on terrorists and the ‘three evils’ that emerged within the Shanghai Cooperation Organization. In essence, both of these discourses are conducive to an image of a ‘joint enemy’ legitimizing governmental action against potentially dangerous persons, both domestically and beyond China’s borders. In fact, this discourse helps the Chinese state in (re-)constructing the nation, a major objective of the current regime under Xi Jinping. On the question of state identity within the International Society, Elena Soboleva argues in her chapter that the PRC’s new identity as a great and responsible power largely depends on how it tackles the issue of refugees. Isabelle Cheng, in her contribution, depicts how the Taiwanese state has become able to negotiate its sovereignty through immigration legislation. As Taiwan is not an internationally recognized state, its immigration laws project a difference between citizenship and Taiwanese nationality that strengthens Taiwan’s nation-building project. Along the same lines, Gunter Schubert analyzes how immigration schemes for
8 Franziska Plümmer, Gunter Schubert & Anastasiya Bayok Chinese mainlanders in Hong Kong represent the stigmatization of this group in the larger society. In his chapter, Schubert describes the historic evolution of Hong Kong’s regulation of Chinese mainlander immigration. Listing the different visa schemes, he shows that mainland Chinese are treated as de facto foreigners. Mainlanders must qualify for Hong Kong citizenship like all other foreigners intending to live in the city. Schubert further shows how a post-handover ‘mainlander narrative’ evolved that builds on a racialized perception of Chinese citizens. The issue of ‘birth tourism’ especially fed into local resentment against mainlanders, resulting in political activism of ‘localist’ groups. Both the activists and the government follow a rationale of safeguarding economic prosperity and political stability of the Special Administrative Region which, however, results in ethnic chauvinism. Schubert states that, ironically, although for different reasons, both the PRC government and the Hong Kong SAR authorities support restricted visa regulations for mainlanders. In both Taiwan and Hong Kong, the practice of mainlander immigration thus reflects political struggles for independence and genuine autonomy. Hence, the ‘politics of identity’ refers to the steering of identity discourses to assert homogeneity or heterogeneity (multiculturalism) as the normative foundation of nationbuilding. In terms of negotiating foreign influence on national identity, Japan is similarly struggling to align ethnicity and immigration policies. Michael Strausz shows that Japanese national identity is primarily based around shared national symbols, rather than shared ethnicity, and Mondwurf shows how returnee migrants from Brazil produced counter-identities to avoid being confused as Japanese nationals, thus reducing expectations as well as assimilative pressures from Japanese ethnic hegemony. In this regard, So Young Chang and Luicy Pedroza show how South Korea’s national identity became generally more open and both the government and the society at large became more willing to naturalize immigrants as part of an official legal campaign towards multiculturalism. By examining labour and marriage migrants’ rights, the authors explore the legal evolution and different practices of naturalizing foreigners. Official discourses present multicultural families as one specific narrative that integrates foreigners into Korean society. Immigration laws specifically differentiate among non- and ethnic-Korean foreigners as well as cases of dual citizenship. Trying to account for the different citizenship narratives of lawmakers, court cases, and presidential campaigns, the authors find that the issue of naturalization and its loss/rejection is frequently recurring and has been controversially discussed in parliamentary and legal debates. The authors show that although the question of compulsory military service played an important role in nationality law, the issue of ethnic descent was hotly debated. The most controversial questions, such as matrilineal lineage and especially dual citizenship, still remain strident, and most importantly, political citizenship largely remains tied to Korean-ness. Besides the construction of ‘the Other’, the self-representation and self-identification of immigrants, which usually result from protracted negotiation processes, often unveil the discriminatory practices that are at the origin of conflicts between social groups in a society facing immigration. Bettina Gransow scrutinizes in her
Introduction 9 chapter how African immigrants in Guangzhou negotiate their identity by representing themselves in terms of their professions as traders instead of through their African heritage or their difficult immigration status. Despite increasingly rigid immigration control by local authorities, these migrants have created different forms of spatial and social encounters in the city. Urban diaspora in places such as markets, informally organized community offices, and restaurants have become transnational places of contact between the immigrant community, Chinese businesses, internal Chinese migrants, and the Muslim community. In this way, she argues that African traders have become important agents in shaping transnational spaces in the city. These spaces in turn have become manifestations of their identity and their self-representation as a community. Elena Barabantseva describes the internal processes of Russian women in identifying themselves as ‘Chinese wives’ rather than ‘Russian wives’. She provides a carefully narrated insight into the citizenship decisions of Russian and Ukrainian women when marrying Chinese men. These women experience the Chinese immigration regime in a specific way as they either consciously or unconsciously make decisions about their children’s citizenship and cultural belonging. She argues that a racialized discourse over the women’s whiteness makes them a desired object and raises the ‘quality’ of their Eurasian children. In narrating their marriage biographies, this chapter shows how these women struggle with Chinese immigration policies that protect their children but treat the foreign mothers as strangers who are vulnerable to exclusion. The selective integration of these children into the Chinese national project reflects the intersecting global and local hierarchies of citizenship in China. The chapters show how immigrants have developed agency in gaining leverage over their own representation. Overall, their struggles usually result in different conceptualizations of citizenship, which may (or may not) be institutionalized by domestic law.
Citizenship Finally, investigating the politics of citizenship relates to the question of how immigrants are labelled during their bureaucratic journey through different immigration regimes (Ong 2006; Jakimów 2012; Shneiderman 2013; Ho and Chua 2015). States apply different strategies (or governmentalities) to different groups of immigrants, producing a system of ‘graduated citizenship’ that provides rights and privileges for some while marginalizing others. A number of questions arise here: What rights and responsibilities are attached to being a resident or citizen, and how does naturalization work? Do the East Asian governments build on a thin or thick concept of c/Citizenship, and hence try to facilitate civic participation for immigrants or restrict it (Goodman 2010)? What special categories are created to distinguish between different groups of immigrants (border residents, investors, talent and experts, low-skilled workers, refugees)? Chiavacci argues that citizenship policies in all our cases have become increasingly restricted since the 1980s in order to control migration potential while
10 Franziska Plümmer, Gunter Schubert & Anastasiya Bayok demographic changes are calling for more open approaches. Focusing on labour immigrants in Japan, Michael Strausz shows in his chapter how regulating measures are explicitly discussed under the umbrella of labour policy rather than immigration policy. By recategorizing the admission of foreigners under a ‘trainee visa’ and explicitly limiting the immigration to ‘low-skilled’ jobs, the Abe administration has tried to reframe the issue. Because Abe’s government had hoped to not spark a wide-spread controversy about integration or assimilation, Strausz calls the administration ‘assimilation pessimists’: conservatives who believe that (only) a relatively small number of foreigner residents can be successfully incorporated into Japanese society. Although reluctantly, labour migration reforms were adopted after 1989, gradually opening the immigration regime by allowing foreigners to reapply for a visa or to stay longer. Finally, Strausz discusses party politics, arguing that the debate is largely occupied by right-wing opinions, while Japanese labour unions demand rising wages to attract Japanese workers to return to ‘low-skilled’ sectors rather than inviting foreigners. On a more local level, Elena Meyer-Clement and Wang Xiang show in their chapter on internal Chinese migration in Yiwu and Shanghai how different citizenship categories are legally constructed on the local level. This chapter shows in detail what roles internal migrants and foreign immigrants play within the differentiated, localized citizenship regimes in two cities in China. While China’s immigration reforms have become stricter in terms of population control, Shanghai has introduced harsher selection criteria for internal migrants, while Yiwu has had to soften them. In both cases, however, low-skilled internal migrants were further degraded in the cities’ social hierarchies. The authors argue that this is a result of cities globally competing in the search for talent immigration and in attracting capital. Referring to graduated citizenship, Franziska Plümmer illustrates how the category of ‘illegal’ immigrants in China is discursively constructed and graduated so that ‘illegal’ immigrants enjoy various forms of limited access to the immigration regime, such as through locally valid residence permits in border areas. Björn Ahl and Pilar-Paz Czoske, for their part, analyze the formal differentiation among groups of immigrants. By applying a point-based system, the Chinese search for talent distinguishes between ‘A, B and C foreigners’ which, however, does not translate into legal categories. Also, Isabelle Cheng and Gunter Schubert show how the differentiation among citizen and immigrants in Taiwan and Hong Kong is incorporated in the legal basis of the respective immigration regimes. Similarly, So Young Chang and Luicy Pedroza show that for the South Korean legislative and executive bodies the notion of ethnic nationalism dominates the discourses on naturalization. Analyzing the immigrants’ perspective on citizenship, Elena Barabantseva finally shows how the question of citizenship for ‘Russian wives’ in China is being negotiated through the quest for the dual nationality of their children. All three concepts in our analytical framework are simultaneously informed by international discourses on global migration and public security, as much as by demographic and economic change, which points to the serious problem of ageing
Introduction 11 societies in contemporary East Asia – a problem which only systematic immigration over time can solve. In sum, this volume discusses regional political responses to migration flows into East Asia, different forms of migration, such as refugee migration and low and high-skilled labour migration, different immigration schemes and the discourses related to immigration-related policy-making. While the divergence of the different chapters does not allow for a systematic comparison, it does offer strands of comparison linked by each chapter’s incorporation of issues pertaining to norm diffusion, identity and citizenship. In that sense, this book provides interesting perspectives to both the migration scholar and all those interested in East Asia’s governance of regional and global migration in the present and immediate future.
Notes 1 In some chapters (Meyer-Clement and Wang), internal migration is addressed, too, while others address re-migration (Mondwurf; Chang/Pedroza). The main focus of this book, however, is set on immigration: foreigners entering a host country attempting to stay either permanently or temporarily. 2 We would like to thank the following scholars who attended the workshops and provided useful comments on the draft chapters: Anna L. Ahlers, Yonson Ahn, Verena Blechinger-Talcott, Ka-Kin Cheuk, You Jae Lee, Frank Pieke, Eva Richter, Tabitha Speelman, and Andrea Strelcova.
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2
Keeping immigration under control Development and characteristics of the East Asian migration region David Chiavacci
Introduction This chapter discusses the boundaries, establishment, internal structures, governance, and recent trends of the East Asian migration region. It gives an overview of international migration and its development in East Asia1 from a macro perspective and touches upon some points that will be discussed in more detail in other chapters of this volume. The analysis will focus on Japan, South Korea, and Taiwan as the three largest immigration economies in the region, which have kept immigration under strict control despite the huge potential for intraregional migration. It will contrast their cases with those of Malaysia and Thailand as the two East Asian countries with the largest immigration movements that are much less able to control immigration originating from other countries of the East Asian migration region. This chapter points out that the regional context and its intraregional migration potential are crucial factors for fully understanding immigration policy in nation-states of the region. However, it also shows through this comparison of Northeast Asian and Southeast Asian cases that the regional embeddedness does not fully determine national immigration policy. Especially in the case of the East Asia migration region, we note striking differences between the three Northeast Asian cases – Japan, South Korea, and Taiwan – and the two Southeast Asian cases – Malaysia and Thailand – in their immigration policy and the size of immigration movements. Concerning the type of migration, this chapter examines primarily labour migration, which is not only the most important type of migration in the region but also the most important issue in public and political debates about immigration in East Asia. Due to space limitations, marriage and refugee migration will be relegated to some short comments in the endnotes. This chapter makes three main arguments. First, as already mentioned above, it argues that a regional perspective is of crucial importance in order to fully understand migration movements and immigration policies in East Asia. The common beginning of labour migration to Japan, South Korea, and Taiwan as well as their strong similarities in immigration policies are due to the late establishment of the East Asian migration region in the 1980s and to its internal structures. Second, the chapter argues that the commonalities, as well as mutual learning and emulating in immigration policies in the case of Japan, South Korea, and Taiwan, are
Keeping immigration under control
17
actually of such a degree that we can speak of an implicit Northeast Asian migration regime despite a predominantly unilateral immigration policymaking in the three countries. Third, it argues that the main goal and foundation of the immigration policies in Japan, South Korea, and Taiwan have been to keep labour immigration since its beginning in the late 1980s under control in view of the enormous migration potential in East Asia. This leads to a restrictive citizenship policy in all three countries despite their democratic political systems and the voices from civil society actors and the international community that have been demanding a more inclusive policy based on a fuller consideration and implementation of human rights. Before developing these three main arguments in more detail, we will start with an outline of the boundaries of the East Asian migration region.
Boundaries of the East Asian migration region Despite all the talk about globalization and global migration, international migration is not a global phenomenon. International migration movements are not evenly or randomly distributed throughout the globe. On the contrary, the world is divided into migration regions with relatively clear boundaries defined by large intraregional migration flows and significantly lower interregional migration flows between these different regions (Castles et al. 2014).2 However, migration research has not reached a consensus on the identification of migration regions worldwide due to three main reasons. First, data quality for international migration flows is limited and often only raw estimates are available. Hence, the evidence-based identification of migration regions remains ambiguous. Second, international migration is highly dynamic, which leads over time to shifts in the boundaries between migration regions and even to the emergence of completely new ones. In other words, migration regions are moving targets for identification. Third, several levels of data aggregation are possible. Depending on the level of aggregation, different migration regions will be identified. East Asian countries are exemplary cases for these problems. Their exact embeddedness in migration regions remains an open question when consulting available research. Some authors identify an Asian–Pacific migration region (Goss and Lindquist 2000; Hugo 2004; Massey et al. 1998: 160–195), which includes, besides East Asian countries, Australia and New Zealand and sometimes Canada and the United States. Other authors identify an East Asian migration region that is composed only of Northeast and Southeast Asian countries (Chiavacci 2005, 2011; Jones and Findlay 1998). In a recent analysis, Charles-Edwards et al. (2016: 274–275) divide Asia, based on available data, into four migration regions: the states of the Gulf Cooperative Council (GCC), Central Asia (newly developed since the 2000s), Southern and Southeast Asia, and East Asia. As discussed in the next section, at least part of these different demarcations can be explained through the dynamic development of the East Asian migration region. The latter emerged during the 1980s, after the member countries of the GCC and the Anglo-Saxon immigration nations (Australia, Canada, New Zealand, and the United States) had begun to accept large numbers of East Asian
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migrants in the 1970s. During the 1990s, the East Asian migration region consolidated further and could increasingly be differentiated from the migration flows to the GCC and Anglo-Saxon immigration countries (Chiavacci 2011: 174–185). Finally, in the late 1990s the East Asian migration region became fully established and demarcated by internal migration movements. At the time, it consisted of a number of immigration economies (Brunei, Hong Kong, Japan, Singapore, South Korea, and Taiwan) receiving a significant number of foreign workers from the region, transition economies (Malaysia and Thailand) with large emigration and immigration movements, as well as emigration economies (Cambodia, Indonesia, Laos, Myanmar, Philippines, PRC, and Vietnam) having primarily emigration flows.3 Based on available migration statistics from the 21st century, it is reasonable to distinguish an East Asian migration region. For example, estimates of migration flows for the first decade from 2000 to 2010 document that the overwhelming majority of new migrants in East Asia are from the region itself (see Figure 2.1). The share of East Asian inflows among all immigration movements in East Asia fluctuates strongly by country from about 55% in Malaysia to nearly 99% in Taiwan.4 Still, according to the estimates of Figure 2.1, intraregional migration flows reach about 80% of all immigration movements in the region
2,000,000
100%
1,800,000
95%
1,600,000
90%
1,400,000
85%
1,200,000
80%
1,000,000
75%
800,000
70%
600,000
65%
400,000
60%
200,000
55%
0
50% Thailand
Malaysia Singapore
East Asian immigra˜on fows
South Korea
Hong Kong
Japan
PRC
Other immigra˜on fows
Taiwan All other countries (net increase) East Asian share
Figure 2.1 Migration flows to East Asian countries, 2000–2010. Source: Author’s calculation based on data provided by Abel and Sander (2014) (http://science .sciencemag.org/highwire/filestream/595376/field_highwire_adjunct_files/0/ Abel-Database-s1.xlsx, accessed 23 February 2019) and by Taiwan’s Ministry of Labor Affairs (http://statdb.mol.gov.tw/html/year/year06/d13030.csv, accessed 23 February 2019).
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(see also Chiavacci 2005: 21–22). A fifth of immigrants from outside the East Asia migration region consist primarily of South Asian immigrants in Southeast Asia. Singapore and Thailand have a significant number of South Asian immigrants, but the main destination of South Asian emigration, primarily Bangladeshi guest workers, is Malaysia. Especially since West Malaysia is the border region between the East Asian and South Asian migration regions with a large number of foreign workers from both regions (Stahl 2003: 36–37). Ethnic return migration to Japan from South America and high-skilled migration from all over the world are also important factors contributing to inflows into East Asia.
Emergence and establishment: From a nonmigration region to a migration region During the first wave of globalization in the 19th century, international migration was an important aspect of increasing economic and political internationalization and strengthening cross-border connections in East Asia (Amrith 2011). However, ruptures in the 1930s and 1940s marked the end of international migration and resulted in East Asia becoming a non-migration region. Up to the 1970s, East Asia had very limited intraregional migration movements and also very small flows to other world regions. The region was marked by very restrictive immigration and emigration policies. The size and significance of international migration in East Asia was so limited that it was not mentioned at all in studies on population development during those years (Hugo 1998: 1). Because of their embeddedness in this East Asian non-migration region, Japan, South Korea, and Taiwan reached full industrialization without relying on foreign workers or immigration (Athukorala and Manning 1999). Hong Kong and Singapore as urban economies, however, were without a rural surplus labour pool and started to accept foreign workers during their industrialization in the late 1960s (Athukorala 2006: 33–34). More important for the reemergence of international migration in East Asia were new emigration flows from East Asia that started in the late 1960s. In the early 20th century, the Anglo-Saxon immigration countries of the New World had imposed new immigration policies, which clearly favoured European and especially Western European immigrants. Asian immigration movements became strongly regulated and were, if possible, prevented. In the 1960s, ethnically discriminatory immigration policies in Australia, Canada, New Zealand, and the United States were revoked (Watanabe 2006: 107). Instead of ethnicity, professional qualifications and family unification became the main selection criteria for immigrants. This led to a sharp intensification in emigration flows from East Asia to North America and Oceania. It resulted in a partial ‘Asianization’ of their immigration, as the ratio of Asian immigrants increased. In the early 1960s, the share of Asian migrants in all Anglo-Saxon immigration countries was below 10%. In the late 1960s, it strongly increased and, in the late 1970s, Asian immigrants reached a share of 32% in Australia, 37% in Canada, and 39% in the United States (Appleyard 1988: 92). This strong increase in emigration from Asia to the New World is also evident in absolute numbers. In the first half of the 1960s only
20 David Chiavacci about 150,000 Asian migrants entered Australia, Canada, and the United States, but in the first half of the 1980s, this flow had increased by nearly twelve times to over 1.75 million Asian migrants (Watanabe 2006: 108). In the 1970s, the GCC became a second important emigration destination for East Asian migrants. The oil-exporting countries of the Gulf region, after the sharp increase of oil prices, started to use their new capital for large infrastructure projects, for which they needed foreign workers (Asis 2005: 16–17). Initially, the members of the GCC recruited their foreign workers primarily from Arab countries, but soon South and East Asian workers started to play an increasingly important role. Problems and conflicts with Arab guest workers occurred in a number of GCC member states, whose political regimes increasingly regarded them as a political risk. Therefore, they started to recruit guest workers primarily from South Asia as well as East Asia who were not only regarded as more reliable but also ready to work for lower pay (Teitelbaum 1984: 441–442). Japanese construction companies played a pioneering role in the labour migration movements from East Asia to the Gulf region (Ling 1984: 22). In the mid-1970s, these corporations signed large and lucrative construction contracts in GCC member states and realized these construction projects by recruiting and dispatching workers from South Korea, Taiwan, and the Philippines. In view of the colonial past and the forced recruitment of Korean labour during World War II, the South Korean government was very critical of this renewed use of Korean workers under Japanese guidance. Hence, it strongly supported their own construction companies to replace the Japanese ones in the Gulf region as highly reliable building contractors. From 1975 to 1985, about 1.1 million Korean guest workers came to the Gulf region. At the peak in 1981 alone, over 100 Korean companies were active in the region with over 150,000 Korean construction workers (Seok 1991: 56–58). Overall, the share of South and East Asian guest workers strongly increased from about 20% in the mid-1970s to about 63% in the mid-1980s (Abella 1995: 419–420). These emigration movements to the New World and the Gulf region led to the re-emergence of a ‘culture of international migration’ in East Asia. In the 1980s, international migration had become an established pattern and a form of human agency in some countries in South and East Asia. Emigration to the GCC also led to the foundation and fast growth of local migration industries, which acted as intermediary and substantially simplified the whole labour migration process for workers and employers. Moreover, in the late 1970s the People’s Republic of China (PRC) introduced a new, much less restrictive emigration policy (Nyíri 2013), which brought the biggest player by population size back into the migration game in East Asia. The stage was set for a transformation of East Asia itself from a non-migration region into a migration region. In the late 1980s, intraregional migration started to significantly increase. The fast rise of the East Asian migration region was due to two main factors: (1) economic development and regional integration, and (2) a slump in demand for guest workers in the GCC member states. From the 1960s onwards, following the path of Japan, other East Asian economies began rapid economic growth which later became known as the East Asian
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economic miracle (World Bank 1993). After Japan, which was already a member of the OECD (Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development) by 1964, the so-called Four Asian Tigers (Hong Kong, Singapore, South Korea, and Taiwan) accomplished industrialization and joined the advanced industrialized economies. Indonesia, Malaysia, and Thailand also achieved very high growth rates and became emerging economies. This economic development led to social transformation in these societies, in which a fast-growing share of the working population shifted from traditional farming and fishery sectors into modern industrial and service sectors. This structural transformation resulted in rising emigration pressure. Due to economic development, the number of geographically mobile wageworkers living in urban centres has been growing fast. They make up a pool of potential international migrants looking for better incomes abroad and utilizing the strengthened transnational relations made possible through trade and investment for international migration. As Massey et al. (1998: 277) point out: [I]nternational migrants do not come from poor, isolated places that are disconnected from world markets, but from regions and nations that are undergoing rapid change and development as a result of their incorporation into global trade, information, and production networks. In the short run, international migration does not stem from a lack of economic development, but from development itself. This process is clearly illustrated in East Asia. Emigration pressure and emigration movements increased parallel to economic development and regional economic integration through expanding and deepening transnational production networks and rising intraregional trade and investment. A second important factor was the developments in the Gulf region. Falling oil prices and, hence, falling revenues in the early 1980s led to a scaling down of many infrastructure projects in the region. This also resulted in falling demand for guest workers in the oil-exporting countries (Chiavacci 2005: 18). After the First Gulf War (1990–1991), demand for guest workers fell even further. The established migration industries in the important emigration countries in South and East Asia tried to compensate for this falling demand in the Gulf region, at least partly, by establishing links to employers in East Asia who were in dire need of (cheap) labour. The magnitude of this shift becomes clear when studying the emigration flows of the three most important labour exporters in the region. In 1980, 84% of Philippine contract labour, 74% of Indonesian contract labour, and 97% of Thai contract labour were working in the Gulf region. In 1994, the emigration destination of 36% of Philippine and Indonesian contract workers and even 89% of Thai contract workers was Asian countries outside the Gulf region (Hugo 2004: 85; see also Watanabe 2006: 110–111). The impact of East Asia’s transformation into a migration region becomes apparent if we compare the national trajectories of Japan, South Korea, and Taiwan. In all three countries, new immigration started simultaneously in the late 1980s. However, this parallel conversion into immigration economies is
22 David Chiavacci surprising in view of their asynchronous industrialization. Although all three followed a similar path of state-led industrialization (Amsden 1989; Johnson 1982; Wade 1990), the timeframe of their economic development differed by about two decades. When Japan accomplished full industrialization and became an OECD member in the mid-1960s, South Korea and Taiwan were still in an early industrialization phase. Hence, from the national perspective of their economic development, Japan should have had much earlier new immigration movements than South Korea and Taiwan. Accordingly, Japan reached its Lewis Turning Point5 around 1960, at which it started to experience labour shortages much earlier than South Korea and Taiwan (Minami and Ma 2010: 163). In fact, from the late 1960s up to the 1973 oil crisis, Japan’s labour shortage was much more severe in comparison to the later 1980s, when new labour immigration actually started (Mori 1997: 37).6 Why did immigration not begin earlier in Japan in accordance with its national labour market conditions? The answer lies in the regional context. Due to Japan’s geographical positioning in a non-migration region ca. 1970 and its economic and political isolation in the region, new immigration movements, including irregular immigration, to Japan did not occur despite heavy labour shortages. This forced Japanese small and medium enterprises at the time to significantly increase salaries in order to attract enough workers and to increase productivity. It also led to an expansion in foreign direct investment by Japanese companies. Approximately two decades later, when the whole of East Asia was transforming into a migration region, renewed labour shortages came to the fore at the same time as in South Korea and Taiwan, hence the region’s turn to new immigration and a rising numbers of foreign workers. The composition of new, mostly irregular immigration to Japan during those years is proof that East Asia was actually still emerging as a new migration region. Until the late 1980s, the two most important countries of origin for irregular foreign workers in Japan were Bangladesh and Pakistan instead of East Asian countries (Chiavacci 2005: 20). Precisely these South Asian countries had become strongly dependent on remittances from their guest workers abroad and had well-established migration industries that tried to compensate for the falling demand for guest workers in the Gulf region by sending labour, inter alia, to Japan as a new, attractive destination with good salaries, even for irregular foreign workers (Itō 1997: 249–251). When Japan tried to close the door to irregular immigration by strengthening visa rules and controls for Bangladesh and Pakistan (and later also for Iran), East Asian countries took over the role as the most important countries of origin for foreign workers in Japan. This shift was part of the emergence of the East Asian migration region. Besides Japan and the Four Asian Tigers as advanced industrial economies, Malaysia and Thailand became important migration destinations in East Asia as well. However, these two emerging economies developed large emigration and immigration movements at the same time. In contrast to Japan, South Korea, and Taiwan, which only experienced significant immigration very late in their economic development that was then strictly regulated, Malaysia and Thailand faced new and large immigration much earlier on their development trajectory,
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especially from their neighbouring countries (Athukorala und Manning 1999; Watanabe 2006: 129–130). In fact, Malaysia and Thailand continue up to today to be the two most important migration destinations in the region. These differences between Northeast and Southeast Asian immigration destinations are a first indicator of large internal diversity as a defining feature of the East Asian migration region.
East Asia’s structural differences and migration potential The East Asian migration region is marked structurally by pronounced internal differences that result in enormous migration potential. Besides the regional economic integration and development discussed above, which played a crucial role in the establishment of the East Asian migration region, the different levels of economic development and fertility between states define the potential size of migration movements. Table 2.1 shows the gross domestic product (GDP) per capita and the total fertility rate (TFR) of the major economies in the East Asia migration region in the year 2000. The differences in economic development between the immigration, transition, and emigration economies are very large, much larger than among members of the European Union or between Latin America and the United States. Furthermore, TFRs are at a completely different level in East Asia. The immigration economies already had very low TFRs in the year 2000, which have not significantly changed since then (see Table 2.2). Hence, the potential for intraregional migration flows in East Asia is truly gigantic. Overall, as will be more fully discussed below, these differences have not significantly changed since 2000. This implies that the regional migration potential has further increased. On
Table 2.1 Composition of the East Asian migration region (2000). GDP per capita (US$)
Total fertility rate
25,757 38,532 23,793 11,948 14,943
1.0 1.4 1.6 1.5 1.7
Immigration economies
Hong Kong Japan Singapore South Korea Taiwan
Transition economies
Malaysia Thailand
3,993 2,031
2.8 1.7
Emigration economies
Cambodia Indonesia Laos PRC Philippines Vietnam
294 800 322 956 1,055 404
3.8 2.5 4.3 1.5 3.8 2.0
Source: ADB (2018: 87, 100).
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Table 2.2 Composition of the East Asian migration region (2016). GDP per capita (US$)
Total fertility rate
43,736 38,978 55,241 27,608 22,569
1.2 1.4 1.2 1.2 1.1
Immigration economies
Hong Kong Japan Singapore South Korea Taiwan
Transition economies
Malaysia PRC Thailand
9,384 8,094 6,104
2.0 1.6 1.5
Emigration economies
Cambodia Indonesia Laos Philippines Vietnam
1,313 3,604 2,400 2,953 2,215
2.6 2.4 2.7 2.9 2.0
Source: ADB (2018: 87 and 100).
one hand, in the last two decades continuing and expanding regional economic integration has further facilitated intraregional migration movements in East Asia and emigration pressure has further increased due to economic development in most emigration economies in the region. On the other hand, large national differences in GDP per capita and TFR have remained. In accordance with these structural developments, intraregional migration movements have increased. Still, in consideration of the potential size of movements, migration levels in East Asia remain at a very moderate level (see Figure 2.1). Although international migration has increased in East Asia, in proportion to its population size, it remains still low in comparison to other regions in the world, like Europe, the Gulf region, or North America (World Bank 2018: 42–43). However, the basic indicators suggest potential migration flows of a much higher level in East Asia than elsewhere in the world. The two Southeast Asian transition economies, Malaysia and Thailand, have by far the largest inflows and stocks of foreign workers. The two urban economies of Singapore and Hong Kong, as well as the advanced industrial economies of Northeast Asia, have a significantly lower inflow of foreign workers. Especially in the case of Japan, South Korea, and Taiwan, in view of their economic indicators and the size of their national labour markets, we would expect immigration flows and stocks on a much larger scale. As discussed above, this striking difference between Southeast and Northeast Asian countries is due to a diverging economic developmental path, in which Malaysia and Thailand have become increasingly structurally dependent on low-skilled and cheap foreign labour in comparison to the Northeast Asian economies that realized full industrialization without reliance on immigration. Moreover, the long land borders of Malaysia and Thailand, as well as the cross-border ethnic links, make an effective
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border control nearly impossible. Not only do the three Northeast Asian economies have a much more effective state apparatus for enforcing their entry policies, but thanks to their insular location, border immigration control is much easier. In other words, geography matters. Actually, the Northeast Asian immigration economies are even more geographically isolated than the advanced industrial countries in the West. Despite all technological upgrading and increase of resources regarding entry control, for decades the United States has had massive problems preventing irregular crossings over their long land border with Mexico. Still, the United States has no problem in monitoring and impeding irregular immigration from Haiti over the open sea (Guiraudon and Joppke 2001: 4). And even the Mediterranean Sea in the case of Europe is a much less insuperable barrier than the sea borders of Japan, South Korea, and Taiwan. Turning back to the East Asian migration region and its characteristics, we have to note that the development of international migration in East Asian countries does not fully follow the European experience. In general, European countries have gone through a process of ‘migration transition’ (Castles et al. 2014: 46–50). Parallel to their economic development, emigration pressure increased, which led to higher migration outflows. In their mid-level of economic development European countries saw their highest emigration rates (see Figure 2.2). However, with further economic growth emigration flows began to recede and immigration movements that had already begun now increased. Certainly, empirical data shows that not all countries go through this process. In East Asia, the Philippines is a prime example of a country that had limited economic growth and strongly increasing emigration flows over the decades. This led to a structural economic dependence on emigration and its emigrants’
Figure 2.2 European experience of migration transition and the Philippines’ emigration trap. Source: Author’s figure.
26 David Chiavacci remittances, which reached a level of about 10% of its GDP in 2013 (Hervé and Arslan 2016: 14). If this level of emigration and remittances significantly drops, the Philippines will face a severe economic downturn due to a collapse in domestic demand and a long-term recession until such a shock in demand has somehow been compensated for. In other words, the Philippines has already been in an emigration trap for many years in which emigration and remittances are a fundamental and even irreplaceable element of its economic system (Kondo 2009). It will be very difficult and a highly complex process for the Philippines to get out of this emigration trap. In fact, for the Philippines it is not an emigration trap but a well-functioning business model for its national economy. For the foreseeable future, it will remain an emigration economy par excellence (see Figure 2.2). This also implies a defining difference between the European and East Asian migration region. The common European labour market is based on European experiences and on the idea that the current European emigration and transition economies will turn into immigration economies. However, in East Asia a common labour market like in Europe is out of the question for the leading economies because of huge economic gaps between developing and emerging economies in the region and the resulting much larger migration potential than in Europe. Moreover, East Asia does not completely share the general European experience of migration transition and has, on the contrary, several countries which may fall into the emigration trap. The really big question during the emergence and establishment of the East Asian migration region in the 1990s and early 2000s was concerning which path the large regional emigration economies like Indonesia and the PRC would follow. In the first years following the Asian Crisis of 1997, Indonesia showed some worrying signs that its catch-up development had stalled and that it might also follow down a path towards structural dependence on emigration countries, like the Philippines (Dhume and Tkacik 2002). In view of its population size, the development path of the PRC was even more concerning and cast a huge shadow on the other countries in East Asia. China’s strong growth meant that emigration pressure was constantly increasing. In the early 2000s, estimates spoke of no less than 130 million underemployed Chinese workers (Abella 2002: 48). In those years, the offer of ‘an unlimited number of workers’ (Thränhardt 1999: 211) by a Chinese representative to Japan (with a total population of about 130 million) might have sounded more like a threat to Japanese ears than a helpful support measure to solve its labour shortages. The structural differences and enormous potential for intraregional migration flows made policymakers in immigration economies in the region very nervous and, to this day, are an important factor in understanding the different trajectories of immigration policy in East Asia.
No strong regional governance, but an implicit Northeast Asian migration regime A general feature of the East Asian migration region is its restrictive and, as a rule, unilateral immigration policies. The main goal in immigration policies, especially in the Northeast Asian immigration economies, is to keep immigration under
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control. In fact, these restrictive entry policies explain the big gap between the enormous migration potential and the moderate migration levels in the region. The overwhelming majority of foreign migrants are not accepted as long-term immigrants but only admitted temporarily. Especially, family reunion and nonhigh-skilled foreign workers are strictly regulated (Chiavacci 2011: 91; Freeman and Mo 1996; Seol and Skrentny 2009). Accordingly, citizenship policies are also restrictive in the region. The main focus in East Asian immigration countries is to not guarantee comprehensive human and labour rights for foreign workers but maximize state control over immigration.7 However, as noted above, there is a huge gap in the nation-states’ abilities to implement restrictive immigration policies between the immigration economies in Northeast Asia and the two transition economies in Southeast Asia, Malaysia, and Thailand, which results in different scales of immigration (see Figure 2.1). The main driving force of intraregional migration in East Asia that is pushing against restrictive immigration regulation is the migration industry (Lindquist et al. 2012; Hoang 2017; Surak 2013, 2018). This combination of restrictive immigration policy and commercialization of migration often results in negative consequences for the migrants. They are confronted with high migration costs, harsh working conditions, low salaries, and outright exploitation. In Southeast Asian transition economies, the large share of irregular immigrants is the main reason that foreign workers are vulnerable and often exposed to illegal practices in the migration industry. Debt bondage and working conditions of virtual slavery, as well as an overlapping of human smuggling and trafficking, are negative effects of restrictive immigration policies combined with a commercialization of migration. Insufficient cooperation and coordination between emigration and immigration countries has also resulted in diplomatic frictions and open conflicts in East Asia. For example, during the Asia Crisis in the late 1990s, a number of East Asian states tried to radically lower their number of (irregular) foreign workers. Malaysia’s efforts of mass repatriation of irregular foreign workers led to massive tensions with Indonesia and the Philippines (Athukorala 2006: 19; Ziltener 2013: 299). Since the early 1990s, in view of the rising importance of intraregional migration and the urgency of resulting problems, a number of initiatives had been launched at the regional level for the better political regulation of intraregional migration in East Asia, e.g. the Manila Process that resulted in the 1999 Bangkok Declaration on Irregular Migration (Rother 2019: 191–192). Moreover, a number of bilateral agreements, ranging from loose memorandums of understandings (MOUs) to more binding international accords, have been signed in East Asia (Blank 2011; Chiavacci 2011: 182–183). In contrast to Western immigration countries in Europe and North America, non-binding MOUs are numerically dominant among immigration countries in East Asia (as well as in the Gulf region) (Wickramasekar 2015: 21). This highlights again the priority in East Asia given to controlling immigration as these MOUs often are primarily an instrument for smoother labour migration management and seldom include provisions of foreign workers rights. Still, new bilateral and multilateral agreements include
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free trade agreements (FTA) and economic partnership agreements (EPA), which have proliferated in East Asia in recent decades (for an overview, see Kawai and Wignaraja 2011). Some of these agreements include provisions regarding labour migration, but the scope is confined (Jurje and Lavenex 2018). In comparison to other migration regions in the world, like Europe, North America, South America, and even Africa, the institutional and legal dimensions of migration governance at the regional level remains very weak in East Asia (Chiavacci 2011: 182–183; Lavenex 2019), making it impossible to speak of a regime of regional migration governance. Still, if we turn to Japan, South Korea, and Taiwan as the three main immigration economies in Northeast Asia, we can identify substantial similarities in their immigration policies and speak of an implicit Northeast Asian migration regime. This migration regime is not founded on official cooperation and coordination among the three countries but is the result of ideational and structural commonalities as well as mutual learning and emulation of immigration policies that have led to a set of informal rules concerning immigration policies. We have noted above the differences in state resources and geography of these three countries versus Malaysia and Thailand as important factors for their ability to control immigration. Still, these factors are necessary but not sufficient conditions for controlling immigration. All three countries also share a setting of developmental states (Amsden 1989; Johnson 1982; Wade 1990), in which strong national bureaucracies internalized the self-understanding that it is their role to plan and guide national development, including through immigration policy (Seol and Skrentny 2009: 605–607).8 In contrast to Malaysia and Thailand, a large number of irregular immigrants have never been acceptable to Northeast Asian political elites. Hence, they were forced to modify their immigration regimes to satisfy an undiminishing labour market demand for foreign workers, resulting in rising levels of irregular immigration. Moreover, as democracies, they had to accommodate the voices of civil society actors and the international community that demanded more attention to human rights issues in immigration policy.9 The perspective of an implicit Northeast Asian migration regime is also supported by a recent comparative quantitative study by Boucher and Gest (2018). In their comprehensive cluster analysis of immigration policies worldwide, Japan and South Korea constitute the same type of ‘constrained regimes’ because of their equivalent basic rules in immigration policy.10 All three Northeast Asian immigration economies distinguish clearly between highly skilled and non-highly skilled foreign workers.11 Not only is a strictly defined group of highly skilled foreign workers accepted, but the Northeast Asian economies try to promote their inflow. Still, the success of their efforts is limited. Among other factors, all three economies lack a business culture based on English, which makes the linguistic barrier for highly qualified foreign workers very high. Regarding family reunion and refugees, they are running a very restrictive immigration policy. The largest inflows are by far non-highly qualified foreign workers. Japan and South Korea have introduced policies that favour return migration of their former emigrants and their descendants, which has led to
Keeping immigration under control
29
significant inflows. Moreover, all three Northeast Asian economies have strictly regulated guest worker or trainee programmes so that the stay of accepted foreign workers is always temporary. Until April 2019 Japan had no official guest worker programme but accepted non-highly qualified foreign workers as trainees. This system was institutionalized in the early 1990s and, since then, has been overhauled several times. It is officially part of Japan’s ODA (official development assistance) and should lead to a skill transfer through the training of foreign workers in Japan into emerging markets and developing countries. However, it is merely a guest worker programme, through which foreign workforce is brought into Japan for those sectors in need of cheap labour and is seldom in the sectors where the countries of origin need skills (Chiavacci 2011). Clearly following the Japanese example (see Lee in this volume), South Korea introduced its own foreign trainee programme in 1991, which was a disguised guest worker programme, too. The trainee programme ran into huge problems, with foreign trainees disappearing and turning into irregular foreign workers in order of earning higher salaries. Moreover, international criticism and pressure from civil society actors augmented in view of the ambiguous status of the foreign trainees, who were not recognized legally as workers and, hence, were confronted with poor working conditions and low remuneration, as they did not fall under the Korean labour law. In 2004 this finally led to the introduction of a guest worker programme, which fully replaced the trainee programme in 2007 (Kim 2015: 3–4). In introducing a guest worker programme, South Korea followed the lead of Taiwan, a pioneer regarding a guest worker programme among the three countries. Already in 1989, the Taiwanese government decided to accept non-highly qualified foreign workers in selected construction projects. At the beginning of the 1990s, Taiwan introduced an official guest worker programme, which was based on bilateral agreements with Thailand and Vietnam and on MOUs with Indonesia and the Philippines. The decision for this early establishment of an official guest worker programme in the case of Taiwan was not only driven by severe labour shortages but also motivated by security considerations, especially concerning the PRC. On the one hand, the government worried that the strongly increasing foreign direct investment (FDI) of Taiwanese companies on the Chinese mainland and its accompanying knowledge transfer might undermine Taiwan’s economic and political autonomy. It was hoped that the investment flows to the PRC could be reduced by allowing foreign workers to work in Taiwanese companies in Taiwan (Lu 2000: 124–127). On the other hand, the government feared that a large number of irregular Chinese workers might come to Taiwan, which was considered a serious security problem (Tajima 2001: 120–123). This also explains why Taiwan did not conclude a bilateral agreement with the PRC as part of its guest worker programme and why it did not introduce preferential treatment for ethnic return migrants similar to Japan and South Korea. In all three countries the introduction of (de facto) guest worker programmes went hand in hand with a much stricter implementation of control and repatriation policies targeting irregular foreign workers.
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Put differently, by opening a side-door for guest workers (or foreign trainees) the three states firmly closed the back-door to irregular immigration (Chiavacci 2011; Ybiernas 2014). However, even these regular foreign workers are often confronted with harsh labour conditions and forms of mistreatment including infringements on their basic human rights. In all three countries, the main problem is that it is nearly impossible for foreign trainees and guest workers to change their workplace (Chiavacci 2017; Park 2017). This means, in the terminology of Albert O. Hirschmann (1970), that they lack not only voice but also an option of exit. Although foreign guest workers and trainees are officially protected by labour laws, their ability to stand up in cases of abuse are limited because of linguistic barriers, missing legal knowledge and weak protection by labour unions. Their position vis-à-vis their employers is further weakened by the fact that they are not permitted to look for a new job if they feel unsatisfied with their (given) working conditions. This significantly increases the state’s ability to control foreign workers and makes them vulnerable to exploitation. It is also a manifestation of Northeast Asian States’ preference for controlling immigration instead of human rights protection.
Recent trends: Towards proactive immigration states? Despite such continuities, one constant feature of the East Asian migration region has been its very dynamic development. In recent years three main trends can be identified in East Asia: demographic ageing in Northeast Asia, the rise of the PRC, and changes in immigration policies responding to newly established regimes to fight international human trafficking. The interplay of these three factors may soon lead to the formation of proactive immigration states in Northeast Asia that regard immigration and foreign workers as a fundamental and strategic resource for securing their economic well-being and international position. The main focus in immigration policy will remain to keep it under control, but the meaning of immigration control will change. Due to their late and rapid demographic transformation, all three advanced economies in Northeast Asia are confronted with very fast demographic change and ageing. Japan, as the regional forerunner, has seen a transformation from the youngest society in international comparison to Western advanced industrial economies by 1990 to the oldest in the mid-2000s. South Korea and Taiwan will follow this path (Kim and Oh 2011: 1565–1568). Ageing and shrinking populations have already reached such a level in current Japan, as East Asia’s ‘demographic pioneer’, that it has experienced labour shortages like those before the 1973 oil crisis. Although it hurts their profits, companies are starting to cut services and business hours because they cannot find enough workers. Shortages in the workforce have become one of the most important factors for companies closing down. This labour shortage and the ensuing employer pressure on the government was the main driving factor for the sweeping immigration reform in Japan that has introduced a comprehensive guest worker program in 2019, which was formulated and adopted in a surprisingly short time (just a few months).
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This demographic pressure is further strengthened by the rise of the PRC. When comparing the structural composition of the East Asian migration region in the year 2000 (Table 2.1) with the newest available data (Table 2.2), we note strong continuities overall. The region is still characterized by large differences in GDP per capita and TFR among its economies. However, one very important change is the rise of the PRC, which is no longer an emigration economy but has joined the ranks of transition economies. This positive development has, to some extent, reassured policymakers in the immigration economies. At least, the PRC as the by far largest economy in the region seems to be on the way to realize its migration transition without falling into the emigration trap. However, China’s development leads to new pressures. If the PRC, in view of strong economic growth and of early demographic ageing because of its decades-old one-child policy, is becoming an immigration country itself in the coming years, this will lead to an enormous Chinese demand for foreign workers in the region. In view of their very low TFR and their fast ageing, the rise of PRC intensifies the urgency for the Northeast Asian immigration economies to develop a sound immigration policy before the PRC becomes a strong player in the regional competition for foreign workers. A third important trend in Northeast Asia is new legislation and stricter governance of human trafficking. In passing such legislation, the East Asian immigration economies follow a worldwide trend. In a few years, human trafficking has gone from an underfunded side-topic pursued by small non-governmental organizations to the centre of the international policy agenda concerning global migration. In fact, the UN human trafficking protocol from the year 2000 has become the most ratified legal instrument related to international migration, even overtaking the refugee convention and its protocol (UN 2017: 21). The very aggressive US policy concerning human trafficking has played a pivotal role that has led to new laws and stricter fighting of human trafficking in immigration economies in East Asia. While Northeast Asian immigration economies have generally been very cautious in adopting international conventions concerning migration and/or fully implementing them, they have not been able to avoid US pressure concerning human trafficking in view of the importance of the United States for their economic interests and security policy. The real motives behind this formulation and enforcement of anti-human trafficking measures by the United States, as well as the EU, has been contested, with some authors claiming that it was not migrants’ human rights protection but national border protection which was the major objective of these policies (Klekowski von Koppenfels 2017: 342–344). Still, in the case of Northeast Asia facing an increasing need for foreign workers due to demographic change and increasing competition from China, there will probably be new regimes of immigration control.12 The main focus will most likely shift from restraining immigration to securing enough foreign workers, which should include a stronger consideration for their human rights and a more welcoming citizenship policy. In Southeast Asia, we can identify recent, similar trends of stricter regulation of migration as well as better legal and social protection of immigrants (Roughneen and Ono 2018). This even allows us to speculate that
32 David Chiavacci such a shift might happen not only in Northeast Asia but also in the whole East Asian migration region.13 Finally, from a global perspective, we could also speculate that we are witnessing a global convergence in immigration policies. Most immigration economies in the West are increasingly adopting a more restrictive immigration policy, as described by Boucher and Gest (2018), as a shift from a liberal model to a market model. Japan is currently adopting a more open immigration policy and will soon accept more foreign workers. In view of a reliable demographic prognosis, there is basically no doubt that South Korea and Taiwan (as the PRC later on) will have to follow the Japanese path even if their economic growth rates should decrease significantly. This could result in a convergence of immigration economies in the West and East Asia on a model, which ‘is characterized by a more market-oriented approach to immigration selection and regulation’ (Boucher and Gest 2018: 6). This convergence would also lead to a larger contribution of the East Asian immigration economies to international migration in Asia that is already growing faster than other world regions (Kawate 2018; UN 2017: 1).
Conclusion This chapter has given an overview of the development of the East Asian migration region and discussed some consequences of its internal structures from a comparative perspective. East Asia is a latecomer concerning international migration after World War II that transformed from the 1980s onwards from a nonmigration region into a migration region. The main reasons for the emergence of the East Asian migration region have been new emigration movements to the Anglo-Saxon immigration nations (Australia, Canada, New Zealand, and the United States) as well as to the Gulf region starting in the 1970s, which has led to the establishment of a culture of international migration. Since then, cross-border migration has become a familiar behavioural pattern in East Asia. This re-establishment of a migration culture was the basis for intraregional migration movements that were spurred by regional economic integration and a falling demand for foreign guest workers in the Gulf region. This regional development explains the common timing of new immigration movements in the advanced economies of Northeast Asia despite their different starting points in economic development. The regional context, especially the enormous migration potential as well as the risks of the ‘migration trap’ is also important as a background factor for the similarities in immigration policies in Northeast Asian immigration economies. Despite no significant regional cooperation and primarily unilateral immigration policies, mutual learning and emulation of immigration policies is so strong in Japan, South Korea, and Taiwan that we can speak of an implicit Northeast Asian migration regime. This stands in clear contrast to Malaysia and Thailand as the two important Southeast Asian transition economies that have much larger immigration movements and are structurally more dependent on foreign labour. The main factors responsible for this contrast between Northeast and Southeast Asia are the geographic isolation resulting from the sea borders of the three Northeast
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Asian economies and their political economy as developmental states, in which the administrative elites have a traditional self-understanding to guide national developments and to fully implement formulated policies. In view of the enormous migration potentials and the risks of migration traps in East Asia, Japan, South Korea, and Taiwan share restrictive immigration and citizenship policies that are marked by the primary goal to keep immigration under control. In recent years all three states have come under stronger pressure from employers, because of demographic change and accompanying labour shortages, to formulate more open immigration policies. Moreover, pro-immigrant civil society actors and the international community have exerted pressure for a stronger consideration for human rights issues in immigration and citizenship policies. The new anti-human trafficking initiatives on the international level, which have opened up an opportunity for civil society advocacy, have been of paramount importance in this context (Chiavacci 2020). This may lead to an immigration policy where the meaning of control will switch from restricting inflows to securing enough foreign labour. Still, for the time being, the priority in immigration policies remains to keep immigration under control. In the newest, far-reaching round of immigration policy reforms in Japan, a guest worker program was introduced in April 2019 through which about 345,000 non-highly qualified foreign workers will be accepted across 14 sectors in the coming years (Hamaguchi 2019).14 Still, the rights and opportunities of these guest workers vis-à-vis their employers will continue to be restricted (The Economist 2019). As discussed above, this will enhance the ability of the state to control guest workers but have a negative impact on their working conditions and weaken significantly foreign workers’ position with their employers.
Notes 1 As discussed in more detail in section ‘Boundaries of the East Asian migration region’, the East Asian migration region in this chapter includes the following economies: Brunei, Cambodia, Hong Kong, Indonesia, Japan, Laos, Malaysia, Myanmar, Philippines, PRC, Singapore, South Korea, Taiwan, Thailand, and Vietnam. Moreover, this chapter differentiates between Northeast Asia (Japan, PRC, South Korea, and Taiwan) and Southeast Asia (Brunei, Cambodia, Hong Kong, Indonesia, Laos, Malaysia, Myanmar, Philippines, Singapore, Thailand, and Vietnam). 2 Earlier publications spoke of these regions as migration systems. However, migration regions are not one migration system but consist of several migration systems that internally function completely differently and have no contact point (e.g. sex worker migration system versus construction worker migration system). Hence, migration system approaches have moved down from a (regional) macro-level to a (sub-regional) meso-level in recent years (Castles et al. 2014: 43–46). 3 In view of the differences between the advanced industrial countries of Northeast Asia (Japan, South Korea, and Taiwan) and the two emerging economies in Southeast Asia (Malaysia and Thailand) concerning the magnitude of immigration flows, the industrialization level at the beginning of these immigration movements and the ability to control immigration through restrictive immigration policies a Northeast Asian migration region can be distinguished from a Southeast Asian migration region. Still, for our analysis, it is more useful to aggregate on the level of an East Asian migration
34
4 5 6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
David Chiavacci region, given the large number of Southeast Asian migrants in the advanced industrial countries of Northeast Asia. Moreover, this allows us also to evade a full discussion on the classification of Hong Kong and Singapore as belonging to either a North or Southeast Asian migration region, a complex issue which we cannot address in this chapter. Again, data quality of these rough estimates is problematic. Moreover, the data for Taiwan are net immigrant increases and, hence, not fully comparable with the data for other countries. The Lewis Turning Point is named after the economist W. Arthur Lewis (1915–1991). It is the turning point in his economic development model, when a country’s rural surplus labor is exhausted, which leads to a labor shortage (Lewis 1954). Actually, foreign sex workers were a forerunner of this new immigration to Japan. Their inflows had already begun in the late 1970s and increased significantly thereafter. Therefore, some authors identify 1979 as ‘year zero’ and the starting point of new immigration to Japan (Komai et al. 1997: 12). Interestingly, Northeast Asian immigration economies have been more open and welcoming of marriage immigration than labour immigration. Foreign brides play an important role in reinvigorating depopulated rural areas. This greater openness for marriage immigration completely contradicts the assumption often put forward by the mass media and in the academic literature that immigration policy in Northeast Asia is dominated by the quest for an ethnically homogeneous national population. For an overview on marriage migration in East Asia, see Jones and Shen (2008). This self-understanding has also been obvious in my interviews with central Japanese bureaucrats over the years. When I pointed out the internal contradictions in Japan’s immigration policy, they always showed real embarrassment. This gap between Japan’s official and real immigration policy countered their esprit de corps as efficient bureaucrats formulating and implementing social and economic guidelines (for details of this gap, see Chiavacci 2011). This pressure of civil society actors and the international community is not a completely new development. It played, for example, a crucial role in Japan’s signing of the refugee and human rights convention in the 1970s that resulted not only in the acceptance of foreign refugees (in limited numbers) but also in revisions of its treatment of foreign residents that had been highly discriminatory (Gurowitz 1999). Boucher and Gest (2018) discuss Taiwan regarding some aspects of its immigration policy but unfortunately do not incorporate it into their full cluster analysis. Still, another, more qualitative recent analysis about immigration policies in East Asia by Kostadinov (2017) supports the interpretation that all three Northeast Asian economies share the same implicit migration regimes. Please note that we are using the term ‘non-highly qualified worker’ instead of ‘lowskilled or low-qualified worker’. Due to strict definitions of those few job fields, for which highly qualified workers are accepted, many skilled foreign workers with higher education degrees pertaining to other job fields are excluded from this category and labelled ‘low-skilled’. This might also explain why all the three Northeast Asian immigration economies have signed the Global Compact for Safe, Orderly and Regular Migration (GCM) of the United Nations in 2018, in contrast to some immigration economies of the West. Still, it remains to be seen how much influence the GCM will have in East Asia in the coming years. It is not an international treaty and, hence, not binding for the signatory states. Also, in contrast to the human trafficking regime, it is not supported by the United States as global hegemon and most important partner of Japan, South Korea, and Taiwan. A possible different future development of the Northeast Asian immigration economies would be a stronger orientation on semi-democratic Singapore and its immigration policy. Singapore is also a developmental state and introduced basic immigration
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policy reforms in 1987 (Lee 2018). However, its immigration regime differs significantly from the Northeast Asian immigration economies and has more similarities with the immigration regime in the Gulf region (Boucher and Gest 2018). Nearly the whole foreign workforce in Singapore consists of non-highly qualified workers that are recruited by the migration industry and ‘excluded from, and not protected by, local labor laws’ (Kostadinov 2017: 117). Moreover, foreign domestic workers ‘are forced to have pregnancy tests every six months and must leave immediately if they test positive’ (Constable 2019: 4). In recent discussion on immigration policy in Japan, we can notice a shift from Western advanced economies to Singapore as a positive example to emulate (e.g. Hanawa 2018). However, this would imply an even more restrictive immigration and citizenship policy in Northeast Asia. 14 The 2019 immigration reform in Japan includes even a provision that part of these newly accepted non-highly qualified foreign workers can, after a few years, bring in their families and settle permanently in Japan.
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Part I
Greater China
3
Migrant actions and government responses African traders in the Pearl River Delta, China Bettina Gransow
Introduction After the Asian financial crisis in 1997–1998 many African traders who had settled in Southeast Asian cities such as Bangkok, Jakarta, and Kuala Lumpur moved to China, and particularly to Guangzhou, where they set up shops and began shipping manufactured goods from China back to their home countries in Africa. This development encouraged traders in Africa to go to China to find manufactured goods there themselves (Bodomo 2012, XXIX). In addition, some African students in China decided to remain in the country and enter the trading business. Moreover, African businesspeople in Hong Kong were attracted by the low prices of production sites in mainland China and began to explore Guangzhou as a new trading base (Bork/Yuan 2014, 581). All in all, a favourable business environment – especially in connection with China’s entry into the World Trade Organization in 2001 – brought African traders from various backgrounds to the Pearl River Delta (PRD). Guangzhou, as a metropolitan marketplace, has a long history as an important trading centre in South China, and its Canton Fair (taking place two times a year since the 1950s) attracts many international merchants and traders, including those from African countries (Qu 2016, 203). Although it soon became the most preferred destination in China for African migrants (besides Yiwu in Zhejiang province), Guangzhou nevertheless did not welcome these newcomers with open arms but instead with various forms of everyday discrimination (e.g. taxi drivers refusing to pick up Black people) as well as harsh governmental constraints due to a very restrictive visa policy that disproportionately affected this particular group of international migrants. Nevertheless, over the years and despite often precarious conditions, urban diaspora spaces1 for African migrants, mainly traders, have emerged and developed in Guangzhou and the PRD. How was it possible for African traders to establish roots in this economically promising but socially unpleasant environment? How did the Chinese government at various levels react to the influx of African migrants? And what kind of social dynamics were triggered by the new immigrant legislation? This chapter examines the African diaspora in Guangzhou with a focus on the emerging local and national Chinese migration governance in the PRD, the cooperation
44 Bettina Gransow and conflicts between various levels of governance, the intended and unintended effects on African traders in the PRD, the possible lessons to be learnt regarding current debates on the dynamics of global and local migration processes, and the development of a regional migration governance framework for East Asia and the Asian Pacific Region. Existing definitions of migration governance do not cover the entire spectrum of different governance levels and their complex interactions that affect the migration of African traders to Guangzhou City. Therefore, these definitions are only partially suitable for our study. The Global Compact for Safe, Orderly and Regular Migration (安全,有序和正常移民契约, frequently shortened as 移民问题全球契约), which China has adopted together with more than 150 governments in 2018, addresses migration governance in terms of its role to improve the positive impacts of migration such as being a source of prosperity, innovation, and sustainable development in a globalized world. As part of its guiding principles, the Global Compact recognizes respect for the rule of law and due process and access to justice as fundamental to all aspects of migration governance, and promotes multi-stakeholder partnerships in migration governance (Global Compact 2018). A very broad definition of migration governance is provided by Sonja Nita: ‘Migration governance relates to all possible governance levels and actors (state and non-state) involved in the process of negotiation, implementation, enforcement and monitoring of regulation’ (Nita 2013, 1). The author herself points to the fact that the concept of migration governance is mostly used in the context of an emerging global governance of migration and concedes that her basic definition lacks a clear distinction between migration and non-migration governance, as many rules and regulations affect the movement of people without being labelled as migration governance (ibid.). However, the overlapping of migration and non-migration governance must not necessarily be interpreted as a deficit of Nita’s definition and could also be seen as due to the deep embeddedness of migration in various intertwined institutional settings. From this perspective, it makes little sense to uproot migration from the matrix of social institutions and define it as a research object in itself, with clear boundaries and internal regularities (Xiang 2012, 37). Xiang Biao therefore suggests a multilevel approach focusing on the interface between migration flows and established social structures (ibid.). With regard to China, this type of multi-level and embedded understanding of migration and its governance should not only focus on the national level. On the one hand, it should extend to the supra-national level, i.e. the level of global governance of migration and the regional East Asian level with its potential role as mediator within the region and in inter-regional dialogues on migration policy. On the other hand, and as the focus of this chapter, such a multi-level understanding of migration governance should include the sub-national level, which in China’s case primarily means migration governance at the level of provinces and cities. Thus, migration governance needs to be examined not only at each of these various levels but also with respect to the division of labour and interactions among them.
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This chapter argues that African traders can be seen as important agents in shaping transnational urban spaces in Guangzhou City. These traders have discovered the potential Guangzhou provides for business in a global setting, and they seek to continue working and living in the city – despite an increasingly unfavourable legal environment and many instances of everyday discrimination, racism, and exclusion. The emergence of African diaspora spaces in Guangzhou can be seen as part of the restructuring of Chinese cities that has produced new spatial forms such as glittering central business districts, iconic architecture, forests of skyscrapers, development zones, gated communities, shopping malls, cultural clusters, and university cities, alongside urban villages and rundown areas such as some older residential districts and industrial areas. Like many other Chinese cities (or even preceding them) Guangzhou has launched comprehensive entrepreneurial strategies to boost its role in intense intercity competition (Gransow 2014, 3). Based on the work by Nina Glick Schiller and Ayse Caglar (2011; 2018), this chapter takes a multi-scalar perspective that notes how cities now market themselves globally and links these insights with an analysis of migrants’ agency in cities, thus addressing the spatial aspect of socioeconomic power as it is exercised differently in different localities (Glick Schiller and Caglar 2011, 72/73; see also Lan 2015). In this case such a multi-scalar perspective on migrants’ agency in the context of entrepreneurial city development needs to be combined with a multilevel perspective regarding China’s new immigration legislation and migration governance at the local and national levels. This type of multi-level and multiscalar perspective is a valuable lens by which to examine the governance that has emerged in response to increasing numbers of international migrants in China in general and African traders in Guangzhou City in particular.
Conceptualizing African migrants in China Any attempt to explore the agency of African migrants in Guangzhou must first raise the question of how this specific group of international migrants has been defined thus far. In general, African migrants in China include diplomats, students, professionals, and businesspeople, with diplomats and students more concentrated in Beijing and traders (the largest group) concentrated in Guangzhou and Yiwu in the Zhejiang province. While the traders in Yiwu often come from the Maghreb (e.g. Mauretania, Morocco, Libya, Tunisia, and Algeria), those in Guangzhou have mainly come from West African countries such as Nigeria (the most populous country in Africa), Mali, Senegal, Ghana, and Guinea (Bodomo 2012, 10ff, 28). Authors such as Michal Lyons et al. (2008) have described the African traders in China as a global counter-flow of migrants which is part of significant changes in African economies and societies and creates new interactions with Chinese urbanity. They highlight the embeddedness of the emerging diaspora of private African traders in Guangzhou in a broader global context and characterize them as a ‘transient community’ and ‘a third tier of globalization’ (Lyons et al. 2008,
46 Bettina Gransow 200, 205). In a similar way Gordon Mathews addresses this large group of mostly small traders from Africa (and the Middle East) in Guangzhou as part of low-end globalization, or globalization from below (Mathews 2017, 2; 2015, 118; see also Mathews/Ribeiro/Alba 2012). Equally worth considering is the question raised by Niu Dong (2015a and b) as to whether African migrants in Guangzhou are ‘real’ migrants, given that African traders generally do not come to Guangzhou with the ultimate aim to stay there but rather to trade goods between China and Africa. This is also a product of their precarious social status and uncertain situation due to strict visa policies (Niu 2015a, 139) (see below). He therefore suggests defining the group of African traders in Guangzhou as ‘transients’ (过客) rather than as immigrants (Niu Dong 2015a, 140, 143). Roberto Castillo (2016), by contrast, has criticized that existing research on Africans in Guangzhou tends to represent them as ‘a mass of traders’ and their presence in the Pearl River Delta as ‘a wave of immigration’ (288). He suggests focusing instead on the diverse rationales behind the multiple forms of mobility that drive individuals into transnational movement and activities. Depending on the subjective perspective and approach of the researcher, the newly established transnational spaces of African migrants in Guangzhou have been socially constructed in different (yet interrelated) ways. From the perspective of urban space formation Li Zhigang has analyzed these transformed spaces as ‘international immigrant districts’ (国际移民区) (Lyons/Brown/Li 2016, 027/028) or ‘ethnic enclaves’ with a focus on ethnic economy (Li/Ma/Xu 2009). Li has also addressed these transnational spaces as part of a global African diaspora but without more detailed comparisons with African diaspora spaces outside China (Li and Du 2016, 003). With a greater focus on international relations, Adam Bodomo has highlighted the potential of African migrant communities in Guangzhou to play a role as ‘bridges’ in the development of African–Chinese relations (Bodomo 2012, 19; 2010). The seemingly contested conceptualizations of African diaspora spaces in Guangzhou/China might be due (at least partially) to a focus on different periods of time, with Bodomo’s ‘bridge theory’ looking at the early stages of formation (before 2007/2008) and Li Zhigang taking what he calls an already ‘collapsing enclave’ in the period after 2007 (Li/Lyons/Brown 2012, 65). But in the eyes of local Chinese people, all these differences in conceptualization become blurred when they equate ‘Africans’ with ‘Black people’ regardless of their national citizenship, lumping together not only citizens from various African nations but also African Americans, Caribbeans, and Europeans without being aware of white Africans or those of Arab origin (Bodomo 2012, 3). Thus the heterogeneity of the African diaspora in Guangzhou is often overlooked from a Chinese perspective, not only in popular imagination but also in official propaganda (Lan 2015, 293). As Lan Shanshan has argued, this does not mean that racialization of Black Africans in China can simply be interpreted in a traditional black and white binary; instead, it must be situated in the larger context of a triangular power relationship between China, Africa, and the West (Lan 2017, 5). Against the background of a model of South–South racialization, Lan highlights
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the different perceptions of elite and non-elite Chinese on persons with black skin which may or may not involve racialization in the Western sense (Lan 2017, 9). Lan identifies different sources from which the Chinese knowledge of Blacks is drawn: traditional Chinese aesthetic values that favour light over dark skin (associated with working in the fields and low social status); racialized images of Blacks in Western literature and media; Chinese state propaganda such as the discourse on Sino-African friendship; Chinese language media; and personal experience and hearsay (Lan 2017, 190). She argues that because of these different sources of racial learning there is no overarching discourse of anti-Black racism in China. Instead, she sees the representation of Blackness as a highly contested issue that may or may not reinforce hegemonic discourses of racism originating from the West and at the same time may challenge them ‘in creative and unexpected ways’ (Lan 2017, 191). So, on the one hand, we can find a variety of different conceptualizations of African migrants and their perceptions in Chinese society; on the other hand, as we will discuss in the next section, African migrants in Guangzhou do not constitute a homogeneous group.
African traders in Guangzhou: Numbers and composition The lack of official data on the number of African migrants in Guangzhou has led to speculation and a continuing debate on how to gather and verify such figures (Li/Du 2016, 005; Bodomo/ Pajancic 2015). The most frequent estimation for the period after 2008 has been 15,000–20,000 long-term African migrants in Guangzhou (Zhou 2016, 132; Mathews 2015, 118). Frank Pieke has reported 30,000 Africans operating in Guangzhou (Pieke 2012, 51) and even higher numbers can be found in the Chinese press.2 According to data published by the Entry and Exit Administration of the Guangzhou Public Security Bureau, the number of all foreign residents in Guangzhou increased from 18,000 in 2006 (Li/Du 2016, 005) to nearly 80,000 in March 2017,3 while the number of African residents in Guangzhou increased from 1,080 persons (or 6% of foreign residents in Guangzhou) in 2006 (Li/Du 2016, 005) to 11,000 (or 14% of foreign residents in Guangzhou) in 2017 (ibid.), including around 5,000 permanent and 6,000 temporary African residents. In the meantime, the number of African residents in Guangzhou published by official sources peaked at 15,570 in 2014 (Li/Du 2016, 005). Even if we have no detailed time series, we can see that the number of African residents in Guangzhou has decreased considerably in recent years. As we will discuss in more detail later, new immigration legislation at provincial and national levels, plus strict visa regulations from the local government combined with harsh enforcement campaigns in Guangzhou, can be seen as the main reason for the decrease in the number of African migrants in Guangzhou. With an emerging African diaspora, a variety of services for African businesspeople (such as restaurants and barbershops) has come into being. In addition, some African citizens active in sports (soccer) or culture (musicians) have joined Guangzhou’s African community (Castillo 2015, 2016). However, traders are by far the most dominant group among the African migrants in Guangzhou. Among
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African businesspeople, Zhou Min (et al. 2016a, 147) distinguishes three main sub-groups: (1) Expatriates working for African import/export or trading firms. They are engaged in large-scale business with Chinese companies and manufacturers via formal channels. Generally, they are capital-rich with long-term business visas. (2) Independent merchants with prior experience in Hong Kong or Southeast Asian countries. They have long-term business plans but travel on short-term business or tourist visas. Usually they operate their own small or mediumsized firms and tend to rely on Chinese agents, trading partners and other intermediaries. Some of them deal directly with Chinese manufacturers. While they go back and forth between Hong Kong and Guangzhou, they maintain regular residence in Guangzhou. (3) The largest group consists of petty entrepreneurs; it is the most diverse group in terms of both socioeconomic background and business experience. Its members all strive to make quick money in China. ‘They tend to live among Chinese residents and trade face-to-face with Chinese merchants in local wholesale markets and street markets. They often carry large plastic bags or suitcases which is why Chinese refer to them as “calculator merchants”, “suitcase merchants”, or “garbage-bag merchants”’ (Zhou et al. 2016a, 147). Some of them later succeed in becoming owners of small- and medium-sized firms, moving up to the second group. Established African businesspeople generally speak Mandarin or Cantonese and are familiar with the business norms and practices of their Chinese partners (Gilles 2015, 32). African traders or customers who lack knowledge of the local business environment and come to Guangzhou on short-term visas may not be able to control the process of preparing goods for shipment or to ensure that they are not cheated by Chinese business partners. Therefore, they turn to African intermediaries who function as guarantors and organizers of business deals between African customers and Chinese counterparts (Gilles 2015, 33). Using the example of African logistic agents, Gordon Mathews described the role of this special group of African traders and Guangzhou long-term residents in more detail: ‘Their job is to send their customers’ goods by air or container ship from China to various African seaports and airports, e.g. Mombasa, Eldoret, Lagos or Matadi; they generally do not deal with logistics within Africa but only in getting the goods to African ports’ (Mathews 2015, 126). The approximately 200 African logistics agents in Guangzhou, some of them with offices and signboards and others less established, normally work with Chinese logistics companies that book a large number of containers worldwide, so that they can get cheaper rates than if they worked on their own. African logistics agents may be involved in the inspection of goods (to ensure their quality for customers) and in ongoing customer care. Most of these agents work as partners or employees of logistics companies with offices in Lagos, Nairobi, and Dubai. Some also work
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with Chinese companies that need African logistics agents for their contacts and dealings in Africa (Mathews 2015, 126). The goods transported are largely legal but very much under-declared on customs forms (to minimize duties). This leads to significant under-evaluation of official Chinese–African trade figures (Mathews 2015, 130). The group of African traders in Guangzhou is structured not only by specific activities and functions in the African–Chinese trading business but also by different national and socio-cultural backgrounds. West African countries such as Nigeria, Mali, Senegal, Ghana, and Guinea are the dominant nationalities in the Guangzhou African diaspora (Bodomo 2012, 28, 31). Early migrants to Hong Kong, Guangzhou, and other places in China who became the most established members of the African community are largely from Mali and Guinea. Deep socio-cultural differences have been found between Anglophone (around 75% Christian) and Francophone (around 58% Muslim) Africans in Guangzhou (Lyons, Brown, Li 2008, 197, 200). Because few Chinese understand French, Francophone Africans formed relatively tight communities around mosques while Anglophone Africans have looser social networks (ibid and Han 2013, 85). Africans in Guangzhou generally have some type of religious affiliation: around 60% are Christians including Protestants and Catholics, 35% are Muslims, and 5% have some kind of folk belief (Zhou Bo 2016, 131).
Migrants’ agency I: Producing transnational urban spaces The emergence of transnational urban spaces in Guangzhou was largely due to the agency of African traders. When an increasing number of African traders with various occupational experiences and different grades of familiarity with the region began arriving in Guangzhou in the early 2000s, they did not have the supportive infrastructure of an already existing African diaspora. Attracted by the local business opportunities of the flourishing Chinese economy, particularly the advantage of cheap Chinese consumer goods, African traders concentrated mainly in the centre of the city where they could find suitable and affordable business spaces. One of the early destinations for African traders in Guangzhou was the Dengfeng Hotel in the Xiaobei area, constructed by local villagers. With the increase of real estate investments in the 1990s and mushrooming high-rise buildings, the landscape of Xiaobei changed completely. New edifices such as the Tianxiu Building (1994) and the Guolong Building (1998) started to serve international trading businesses. Local real estate agencies and Village Committees stimulated this development and local shops targeted foreigners for related services, e.g. visa applications, ticket bookings, goods packaging, international telecommunications, and medical services. With African food and an increasingly multi-lingual environment, an internationalized milieu was created (Li/Lyons/Brown 2012, 63). The centre, or more accurately the centres, of the emerging African diaspora space in Guangzhou coalesced around hundreds of large wholesale shops, clustered in the Xiaobei area (Yuexiu district) and Sanyuanli (Baiyun district).
50 Bettina Gransow African-owned shops are prominent in several buildings in Xiaobei and Sanyuanli. When comparing these two major centres of African business and residence in Guangzhou, Xiaobei is described as accommodating traders from diverse backgrounds, including a considerable French-speaking Muslim African population, while Sanyuanli is a slightly less expensive market with a high concentration of English-speaking Nigerian traders and Nigerian-owned shops (Han 2013, 85). Together they form a huge year-round trading area specializing in Chinese manufactured goods for lower-income countries and attracting businesspeople not only from many African countries but also from Pakistan, India, Turkey, Iran, Arab states, and others (Müller/Wehrhahn 2013, 86/87). In the vicinity of these wholesale markets a broad range of services have arisen, ranging from cheap hotels, cafés, and restaurants that specialize in various local African and other foreign cuisines to currency exchange and transfer offices, travel agencies, and freight services (Müller/Wehrhahn 2013, 87). Here the customers of established African businesspeople in Guangzhou can find establishments that convey a sense of home, including restaurants serving various national African cuisines, wholesale markets, hotels and cafés, hairdressers, and home churches that serve as meeting points (Gilles 2015, 31).
Migrants’ agency II: Producing spaces of care and communication Confronted with a foreign society and culture, African traders in Guangzhou have moved closer together and strengthened their internal local networks by means of mutual assistance, shared information, and mutual psychological security (Li/ Du 2016, 010). Interested primarily in business activities and economic success, African traders in Guangzhou have established various informal organizations rather than a unified association for all African traders in Guangzhou (or China). Africans arriving in Guangzhou, however, usually come with the aim of developing profitable trade between China and African countries (Niu 2015a, 140). Therefore, these organizations differ from migrant organizations in other countries that serve primarily immigrants with the long-term goal of settling down in the respective society. Most of the organizations represent particular or national interests with, e.g. a Nigerian, Ghanaian, or Cameroonian focus. Economic organizations include Chambers of Commerce, trade organizations, and financial support groups. Social organizations are mainly family education groups for school children, child care facilities, and social support groups. Cultural and leisure organizations consist largely of churches, sports, and music groups, and other organizations have a political or other country-related focus. Participation in these organizations is generally described as not very high (Li/Du 2016, 011). By around 2010 nearly thirty unofficial and informally organized national community offices for Africans in Guangzhou had been established in response to an increasing perception of legal vulnerability. These offices were founded to provide representation, services, and protection of legal rights for their members.
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Even if not formalized, organized representation offered a huge advantage in dealing with local authorities. It signalled a strengthening of the African presence, and after the 2012 demonstrations4 the local Public Security Bureau started to take them seriously as (at least informal) representatives of the African community in Guangzhou (Castillo 2016, 298). The main missions of the community offices were to promote understanding and strengthen ties between Chinese people and Africans, and to generate a sense of a home away from home.
Migrants’ agency III: Intersection of international African migrants and internal Chinese migrants The emergence of an African diaspora in Guangzhou increased the opportunities for African traders and ordinary Chinese people to interact with each other in everyday life. A range of encounters between African traders and Chinese people can be identified, such as the relations between Chinese rental agents as providers of housing and African tenants, Chinese transportation providers and African clients, Chinese and African neighbours, and Chinese authorities and African traders/migrants (Zhou 2016b). One problem in particular may arise for Africans who wish to reduce costs for housing. In practical terms, some accommodation can be cheap because the landlord/landlady does not pay income tax. As a consequence, they are not able to complete the registration process for their tenants smoothly and legally. Africans found to lack valid visa and accommodation registration can be penalized or even jailed and repatriated (Niu 2015a, 132/133). As SinoAfrican trade activities are concentrated in the informal economy, Africans have mainly come into contact with Chinese migrant petty entrepreneurs or other internal migrant workers (Lan 2017, 193). While strong emotional relationships, such as cross-cultural marriages and friendships, have evolved and increased in number over time (Mathews 2017, chapter 8), relationships more commonly take various economic forms such as business cooperation, employment, or service relations. Three specific kinds of cooperation have been identified between African and Chinese business partners: (a) a Chinese and an African trader jointly open a shop; (b) a Chinese partner is entrusted by an African trader as an intermediary between the mall (where the shop is located) and the African trader to register (a business) and share the profit while the African trader is removed from the record of the procedure (and avoids the procedure of documentation); and (c) after a Chinese citizen has rented a storefront, he/she rents it out secondhand to an African trader and earns the differential rent (profit) (Li/Du 2016, 011). All three kinds of economic cooperation provide a win–win situation for both partners, but they all represent more or less informal agreements. The structural marginalization of African traders in Guangzhou is comparable to that of internal Chinese migrants or the ‘floating population’ (流动人口) as they are called in Chinese. Both groups of migrants have moved to Guangzhou because they were attracted by the prosperous economic situation in the city. Neither group has the status of local citizens: the Africans because they are foreign
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passport holders and the internal Chinese migrants because they only have a rural and not an urban household registration. Both groups are therefore excluded from the formal support system of the Chinese city. Compared with Guangzhou permanent residents, both are second-class citizens and are often disadvantaged in terms of employment, access to affordable housing, and health care. For example, both groups have limited access to health insurance and suffer psychological effects due to social exclusion and insecurity regarding their legal status (Bork-Hüffer 2015, 69). Most members of both groups therefore work and live under primarily informal conditions. Despite all these similarities, it nevertheless came as a surprise when the Guangzhou municipal government announced in 2008 that foreigners would be included in the ‘floating population’ category and be subject to the regulations of its management (Lan 2015, 294/295). Collaboration in everyday life and in economic win–win situations in the informal sector has enabled African traders – at least to a certain extent – to bypass some of the constraints imposed by local authorities. In contrast to the Chinese state and depending on personal trust, internal migrants seem to differentiate between good and bad economic partners and not between legal and illegal migrants (Lan 2015, 291, 298). In their efforts to survive outside of the formal system, collaboration with internal migrants has helped African traders to stay in Guangzhou and continue doing business. For example, despite the fact that foreign currency exchange is an illegal business, some Chinese migrants provide such services to African traders. If they are undocumented, African traders cannot open a bank account by themselves and are dependent on other Africans or on Chinese to handle their transnational cash flows (ibid, 298). In Yuexiu district, which had been home to Muslim migrants from Xinjiang and Ningxia, most currency traders are Muslim migrants from Northwestern China (ibid, 298). The halal restaurants in Xiaobei area have become places of intersection for Chinese and African Muslims. The many Muslim restaurants and shops in Guangzhou were seen as very convenient by African Muslims. Interactions between internal Chinese migrants and African traders, particularly those from different Muslim communities, have resulted in attracting the particular attention of Public Security organs in Guangzhou (Zhou 2016, 132). Tight surveillance of small African traders in Guangzhou has pushed them even deeper into informal spaces and shadow economies with the result that visa, housing, and employment acquisition processes have often turned into illegal activities.
Increased surveillance and control of foreigners in Guangzhou (since 2008) While the internal migrants had been the main target of the Public Security organs, after being included in the ‘floating population’, small African traders became a new and additional target as a particularly mobile group of foreigners that interacts in different ways with internal migrants (see Niu 2016, 163). In the eyes of Public Security authorities, both groups were seen as possible troublemakers, but
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small African traders were additionally seen as making the management of internal migrants in Guangzhou even more challenging (Niu 2016, 163). In 2007 the local press in Guangzhou associated cases of drug crimes, the spread of AIDS, underground markets, and illegal immigration with the African diaspora and its reporting assumed a more negative tone with African migrants in Guangzhou (Li/ Lyons/Brown 2012, 65). This marked the beginning of increased surveillance and control of foreigners in Guangzhou, particularly of Black people. That same year, the municipality started to set up a network information system to collect data on foreign visitors to hotels, and the city’s 219 police stations established a foreigner management system. In addition, the local government encouraged foreigners to live in concentrated commodity housing in formal residential areas instead of urban villages or other informal spaces. In Xiaobei and Sanyuanli the local police established specific foreigner-related patrol zones and conducted formal and informal patrols and visa inspections. In addition, restaurants, hotels, shops, and markets where African people gathered became the target of regular and intensive inspections. Despite these measures, in 2008 the Chinese People’s Consultative Conference (CPCC) criticized the migration governance of Guangzhou City for unreliable statistics, lax enforcement of tenancy registration, loss of control over the housing market for foreigners, a lack of cooperation between government bodies, and of having insufficient law enforcement resources (ibid: 66). Legitimized by two mega-events, namely the 2008 Beijing Olympics and the 2010 Asian Games in Guangzhou, the municipal government launched more radical reforms. Since 2008 when preparations for the Beijing Olympics increasingly became the focus of harshly critical coverage of human rights by Western media, the situation for foreigners in China in general, and for Africans in Guangzhou in particular, became more and more tense. The Guangzhou municipal government then began to target the so-called ‘three illegal’ population (三非人口 sanfei renkou), i.e. international migrants arriving illegally, staying illegally and/or working illegally in China (ibid: 66). This policy exhibits strong similarities with earlier policies that had targeted the ‘three without’ population (三无人口sanwu renkou), i.e. internal rural-to-urban migrants without temporary residence permits, housing, and/or employment in their migration destination. Until 2004, the ‘three without’ migrant population could be detained on the streets, and either friends or relatives had to pay for their release or the detainees themselves had to work to finance their period of detention. Now included as part of the ‘floating population’ or even the ‘three illegal’ population, Africans in Guangzhou were informally inserted into China’s complex systems of population control and management and were especially subject to the surveillance dynamics of the Public Security apparatus (Castillo 2016, 291). A ‘three illegal’ management team was set up including officials from different administrative departments such as the police, urban management, tax bureau, etc. (which later became more formalized) and related measures were undertaken. While the economic situation deteriorated from the impact of the financial crisis in 2008–2009 on the manufacturing sector in the Pearl River Delta, Africans in Guangzhou became outraged by the increasingly discriminatory treatment of Black
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people in Guangzhou. When two Nigerian textile retailers were seriously injured while trying to escape visa inspection on July 15, 2009, more than one hundred Nigerians held a demonstration in front of the local police station. After this incident, some African traders, mainly Nigerians, started to move to Huangqi, which is administratively part of Foshan and well connected with Guangzhou by public transport. The relatively relaxed government involvement in Huangqi especially enabled the poorer African traders to faceless police harassment there while continuing their business activities in Guangzhou (Li /Lyons/Brown 2012, 68). Greater pressure by the local government on African traders in Guangzhou has obviously led to a more dispersed pattern of African residency in the Pearl River Delta.
Local Guangdong immigration legislation, policy, and migration governance (since 2011) Before the new ‘Exit and Entry Administration Law of the People’s Republic of China’ (中华人民共和国入境出境管理法)5 came into force in July 2013, a basic set of laws and regulations governing international migration and immigration to China had been established step by step with the development of China’s reform and opening up policy.6 It included the ‘PR China Administration Law on the Entry and Exit of Foreigners’7 (中华人民共和国外国人入境出境管理法), adopted in 1985 and implemented in 1986, ‘Rules for the Implementation of the Law on the Entry and Exit of Foreigners’ (1994), and ‘Regulations on the Examination and Approval of Permanent Residence of Foreigners in China’ (外国人在中国永久居留审批管理办法) (2004). These laws and regulations were implemented by various institutions, including the Ministry of Public Security and the Ministry of Foreign Affairs (Lan 2015, 293). At the local level, the Guangdong Provincial Government (Order 155) adopted ‘Provisional Regulations of Guangdong Province on the Administration of and Services to Foreigners’ (广东省外国人管理服务暂行规定) on January 1, 2011, which came into effect on May 1, 2011.8 This was the first local-level legislation concerning the administration of foreigners in the PRC. The Regulations officially combined measures to strengthen the control of foreigners with measures to provide community-based services for them. The Guangdong Regulations de facto targeted specifically the so-called ‘three illegal’ population. First, they shifted the burden of immigration control to employers, hotels, educational institutions, landlords, property management offices, and ordinary local residents who could be rewarded for reporting the discovery of illegal entry, residence or employment of foreigners to the Public Security organs. Illegal hiring of foreigners was to be reported to the Human Resource and Social Security Department, unlicensed business operations to the Administrative Department of Industry and Commerce, and illegal or criminal activities to the State Security or Public Security organs (Article 10). At the same time, those same individuals and institutions were held responsible for verifying foreigners’ passports and visas and could otherwise be fined themselves for collaborating with ‘three illegal’ foreigners.
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Second, the Guangdong Regulations set up high penalties for institutions and individuals who withhold information on foreigners violating Chinese laws and regulations. As the number of foreigners in Guangzhou went up, so too did the number of those violating Chinese laws and regulations (some by illegal entry, residence, and employment, or by taking part in illegal businesses, a small number engaged in drug dealing, economic fraud, robbery, thefts, fights, and so on). According to Xu Junke, Guangzhou Public Security statistics provided a number of 3,179 ‘three illegal’ foreigners in 2011, an increase of 12.5% over the previous year. He argues that the insufficient existing legal framework could have enabled foreigners to easily bypass laws and regulations and come to Guangzhou through various channels. For example, some foreigners registered a ‘one-yuan company’ in Hong Kong and then established a branch office in Guangzhou. They could therefore hire personnel and relocate family members to Guangzhou. Theoretically, in this way an African company could bring a whole village to Guangzhou. To close such loopholes the Public Security organs in Guangzhou pursued the aim of ‘low and transparent numbers, management of housing, good services, fewer criminal cases involved’ (Xu 2016, 74). For example, if hotels fail to verify the passports, visa, and other identity certificates or to report the discovery of expired passports or visas of foreigners (to the Public Security organs) they can be fined 5,000 to 10,000 yuan (Article 55). Similar penalties can be imposed on schools and training institutions, landlords, property service enterprises, real estate intermediary agencies, investors or management bodies, and units employing foreigners (Article 56–62). Third, the Guangdong Regulations expanded the authority of the police. Under the 1985 national law only foreign affairs police could stop foreigners to verify passports, but in the Guangdong Regulations (Article 48) ‘people’s police’ (人民警察) were provided with the power to check passports and other certificates of foreigners. This has not only greatly expanded the power of the local police but also helped breed corruption and abuse of power in it (Lan 2015, 295). Also, in contrast to the foreign affairs police, local police often do not speak English and cannot communicate effectively with foreigners. Black people were more likely to be stopped by police than people of other colours.9 To heighten deterrence of criminal activities in key areas where foreigners reside or do business, prevention and control activities by Public Security organs have been strengthened by police patrols in places where foreigners are concentrated. In places where criminal activities were evident, clean-ups, remediation, and special actions have been taken to improve the Public Security environment (Xu 2016, 75/76). Fourth, the Guangdong Regulations stimulated a way of coordinated management of foreigners including various departments under the lead of Public Security. Guangzhou City has been at the forefront of exploring new models of foreigner management. The Public Security Management Office is the main administrative department for handling foreigners’ applications for entry, exit, transit, and residence in the PRC, conducting security work in foreigner settlements and establishing an informational system for foreigner management (Xu 2016, 73). Since 2003, with the Entry and Exit Administration Office of the Guangzhou Public Security Bureau as its core, a system of ‘Joint Meetings on the Management Work of Foreign
56 Bettina Gransow Nationals’ has been incrementally established on the three levels of municipality (市), district (区), and street level (街). Members of the Joint Meetings come from party committees, government offices, the People’s Congress, the courts, the procuratorate (检察院), Public Security organs, business, and taxation offices. The Joint Meetings established an office within the Public Security administration so that the management of foreign nationals could be coordinated by the various departments represented in the Joint Meeting instead of carried out exclusively by the Public Security administration (Xu 2016, 70). To raise the level of law enforcement as well as the level of services, Guangzhou strengthened the training of police station heads on foreigner management (Xu 2016, 83).10 Fifth, the Guangdong Regulations led to the introduction of an electronic information and management system for foreigners. Guangzhou set up a convenient e-governance platform for entry and exit applications that also provided an English version for foreigners (Xu 2016, 81). Guangdong province offers a mobile application process so foreigners may apply for a residence permit anytime and anywhere. With express door-to-door delivery, foreigners no longer need to visit an office for the entirety of the application process. In addition, Guangdong offers an online payment option for entry and exit application-related fees. The system then searches automatically for information on entry, hotel, visa, and similar information (Xu 2016, 80). While convenient for applicants, much of their data is collected via this process. Sixth, the Guangdong Regulations encouraged participation by foreigners in community affairs. In communities with relatively large concentrations of foreigners the Regulations suggested establishing a comprehensive management service team. Also, foreigners who are interested in public affairs enjoy some prestige among their communities and are able to speak and write Chinese may join the comprehensive community management and services team (Article 45). For such communities the Regulations further suggest establishing Administration and Services Centres staffed with personnel able to communicate in foreign languages to make temporary registration for foreigners more convenient (Article 47) (see also Xu 2016, 84). While the new model, known as ‘managing foreigners with foreigners’ (以外管外) (Xu Junke 2016, 79), sounds like a form of inclusive community participation, it also reminds one of the historical Chinese saying ‘let the barbarians fight it out among themselves’ (以夷制夷). Seventh, the Guangdong Regulations expanded local services for foreigners. In each district of Guangzhou City, Management Teams (管理大队, 15 total) or Entry and Exit Points (出入境受理点) have been set up to gain a more comprehensive understanding of new trends in managing and serving foreigners in their respective district and to provide better consultancy, registration and business management for foreigners on the district level (Xu 2016, 70). Because most foreigners are not familiar with China’s legal requirements, Guangzhou City established a regular ‘Classroom for Foreigners’ (老外课堂) to introduce Chinese law and answer questions about everyday life in Guangzhou. In addition, according to Article 41 of the Guangdong Regulations, Public Security organs and the relevant foreign expert departments should make it convenient for foreign experts to apply for entry–exit visas, enrol their children in school, and so on. In general, however,
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attracting foreign talent by offering special services and conveniences is not high on the agenda of the Guangdong Regulations. Eight, the Guangdong Regulations represented a legal effort to restrict foreigners from certain urban spaces. For the purpose of safeguarding state security, social order, and other public interests, Public Security departments (on the county level or above) may prevent foreigners or foreign organizations from setting up residences or offices in areas surrounding party or government buildings or restricted military zones (Article 28). With regard to the city of Guangzhou, this has been interpreted as an effort to prevent the African community in the Xiaobei area from expanding southward to where the Guangdong Provincial Government Building, the Guangzhou Municipal Government Building, and the Guangzhou Municipal Party Committee Building are located (Lan 2015, 296). Finally, the Guangdong Regulations sought to reduce the number of ‘three illegal’ foreigners via integrated management and a combination of control and services. To reduce the number of illegal acts committed by foreigners it suggested investigating the situation of foreigners at the district and county levels and including foreigners in the Public Security management system: (1) by establishing an information management system for the 2,175 hostels/guesthouses run by the tourism agency in Guangzhou, and documenting the residence of foreigners for the Public Security administration on municipal, district/county, and street/ town levels; (2) by guiding registration and documentation work by the community property management and housing rental management service centre with support from the local police station (派出所); and (3) by strengthening checks of short-term registrations in guesthouses to find sanfei cases and give feedback to the relevant departments. As more foreigners live scattered throughout Guangzhou and with some renting from local peasants (or to be more precise, from local citizens with a rural hukou), this could lead to foreign affairs–related public security cases being discovered in an untimely manner, which is viewed as an obstacle to putting the above-listed measures into practice (Xu 2016, 75). Overall, the Guangdong Regulations stand for a pattern of immigration governance that spreads the responsibilities of the provincial government across a broad spectrum of local institutions and individuals. In order for this ‘cooperation’ to function, the Regulations instituted high penalties for individuals and institutions who do not provide the requested information about international migrants. As discussed above, not everybody is motivated to cooperate in migration governance decreed from above. By combining strict controls on housing and providing a range of services to foreigners at the grass-roots level, the Guangdong Regulations sought to reduce the number of ‘three illegal’ foreigners or – as Lan Shanshan has argued – to legally produce African ‘illegality’ in the Guangdong context (Lan 2015, 289). Based on these Regulations, Guangzhou was a pioneer in introducing a joint management mechanism under the head of Public Security that incorporates relevant institutions and covers the three administrative levels of municipality, district, and street. To meet the challenge of implementing and coordinating such a complex system of managing foreigners, Guangzhou introduced an electronic information and management system.
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National Chinese immigration legislation (2013) Shortly after implementation of the Guangdong Regulations, new national Chinese immigration legislation came into being. With an increasing number of foreigners entering China and finding employment there, formally or informally, the Central Government wanted to modernize the Foreigner Entry and Exit Law, enacted in 1985, to keep pace with changing migration patterns. According to the 2017 International Migration Report, the number of foreigners in China has nearly doubled from 2000 (508,000) to 2017 (1,000,000) (United Nations 2017). Even though this only meant an increase from 0.0% to 0.1% compared to the total population of China, the country’s immigration records system was seen as outdated. While the Ministry of Foreign Affairs was responsible for issuing visas and the Ministry of Public Security was responsible for issuing residence certificates, information about the foreigners was archived based on the purpose of their visit (with files at the Departments of Human Resources, Foreign Experts, Commerce, Education, etc.). Another problem was seen in the lack of oversight of foreigners working in China (Chodorow 2012). The New Exit and Entry Administration Law of the PRC that came into effect on July 1, 2013, intended to tackle all these problems. The Entry and Exit Administration Law enables harsher punishment for foreigners who illegally enter, live, or work in China, with inspections and enforcement of immigrant compliance under the responsibility of the Public Security administration. Foreigners suspected of immigration law violations may be detained (for up to 30 days) (Article 60). A guidance catalogue defines the country’s need for foreign workers, and specifies which industries and occupations are prohibited from, restricted, or encouraged to employ foreigners (Article 42). The law allows visa and residence certificates to be granted to foreign experts. The ‘Administrative Regulations of the People’s Republic of China on the Entry and Exit of Foreigners’ which came into effect on September 1, 201311 introduced the R visa as a new category for highly talented or specialized foreigners needed by the state (Article 6, 9). The number of visa categories increased from 8 to 12.12 The following new visa categories were included in the national regulations: • • •
•
R: long-term visa for high-level foreigners with specialized skills, urgently needed by the state. M: temporary visits for business purposes (requires invitation). Q: (1) visas for family members of Chinese or foreigners with permanent residence who are applying for residence permits for family unification purposes; (2) visas for family members of Chinese or foreigners with permanent residence who are applying for short-term visits. S: visas for foreign family members of Z visa holders.13
Illegal residency of foreigners in China is defined in the Administrative Regulations as holding an expired visa or travel document or conducting activities beyond the scope of the visa. Residence permits are divided by employment and
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non-employment purposes. Employment of foreign students has been restricted. Illegal employment of foreign students includes teaching of foreign languages and engaging in illegal commercial activities. Work-related activities by students require permission by the educational institution and police confirmation of residence certification (Bork and Yuan 2014, 581). Measures to address foreigners guilty of the ‘three illegals’ were codified in the new law for the first time, including on-the-spot interrogation, continuous inspection, detention, restriction of movement, and repatriation (Bork and Yuan 2014, 579). The new Entry and Exit Law (2013) borrowed from the Guangdong Regulations (2011) in several areas: (1) the requirement for employers and ordinary people to report ‘three illegal’ foreigners; (2) the promotion of a reward and penalty system by increasing the penalties for illegal entry, residence, and employment of foreigners in China; and (3) the subjecting of hotels and other institutions that fail to report foreigners’ residence or employment situations to high fines. Overall, strong similarities with the Guangdong Regulations can be identified and can serve as evidence of the Central Government’s affirmation of the Guangdong experiment (Lan 2015, 296,297). A difference between the national Entry and Exit Law and the Guangdong Regulations can be seen in the stronger emphasis the new law puts on attracting highly qualified experts to China. It aims at attracting foreign investors and highly qualified foreign nationals with talents needed in China, while deterring those foreign nationals who do not meet these standards. After a while, Guangdong authorities adjusted their local regulations to the preferences of national law. In August 2016 the Guangdong province published details on applications by foreign nationals for residence permits in China that had been adjusted to the new visa categories. Similar to Shanghai and Beijing for foreign nationals residing in Guangdong Free Trade Zone and the Guangdong province areas, these changes meant a relaxation on requirements for Chinese permanent residence permits (‘Chinese Green Cards’). The respective requirements were designed to accommodate foreign individual investors, senior experts, and foreign nationals with high salaries (more than 400,000 RMB annually) and related tax contributions (more than 70,000 RMB annually) most easily. Greater flexibility and longer durations of Chinese residence permits for foreign nationals also primarily benefit those foreigners who can be expected to contribute to the overall enhancement of the economic strength and to the educational and professional structure of Guangdong/China.14 Thus, a considerable increase in the number of foreigners in Guangdong is not to be expected – but at least there is more transparency than would exist without this legal framework (Bork and Yuan 2014, 592).
Effects of the new immigration legislation on the African diaspora in Guangzhou With the new law and regulations, the African diaspora in Guangzhou experienced a variety of formal and informal changes in its daily life and business that
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particularly affected the small traders. Overall, the new provincial and national immigration legislation provided the legal basis to bring African traders in Guangzhou under the broad surveillance umbrella of the Public Security administration (Castillo 2016, 291). Since 2014, the Xiaobei area had become an increasingly inhospitable environment for African traders and this situation continued. Even Africans with papers reported being detained for some hours without any reason given (Niu 2016, 161/162). A climate of tension and intimidation spread from paperless Africans to those with papers, to those doing business with them and particularly to female Africans. According to leaders of African organizations, such harsh controls were specifically aimed at Guangzhou’s Yuexiu district, not Haizhu and not Panyu, and definitely not Beijing or Shanghai (ibid. Niu 2016, 161–162). Following implementation of the national law, controls became even stricter in the Xiaobei area. On the streets of Xiaobei the police frequently checked foreigners’ visa and residence permits. This happened not only in residential areas but also in places where Africans were concentrated for business. There are reports of nearly 100 policemen arriving at the Tianxiu Building, Jinshanxiang trade city, and other places, blocking the exits and conducting ‘saolou’ (扫楼; building clean-ups). It became impossible for African students to take jobs in hair salons and the shops had to close down. The mutual support system established by Africans began to suffer. Leaders of African organizations in Guangzhou criticized the Chinese police for acting against respectable citizens, but they also clearly stated that they supported efforts by the Chinese police to find drug dealers (Niu 2016, 161–162). Implementation of the new legislation in Guangzhou led to more complicated visa application procedures, to higher penalties for violations of the law, and to reports by African traders of being bullied by the police (Niu 2016, 162). On the local level, strict law enforcement required even higher mobility and coping strategies on the part of small African traders (Liu et al. 2015; Zhou 2016a). Rigid visa policies rapidly increased the number of ‘illegal’ visa extenders and led to an upswing in the trade of illegal or fake passports. Some voices attributed an increase in drug dealing to the strict control measures of the Chinese police (Lan 2015, 298). Rising numbers of people who, for one reason or another, could not or were not willing to leave the country and therefore over-stayed their visas contributed to an expansion of informal spaces. Under the new legal conditions they became even more dependent on informal arrangements for their papers, businesses, housing, and everyday affairs. Their various needs gave rise to extended informal or illegal business niches that were filled by African social networks (such as sending money home for those without a bank account) or by internal Chinese migrants who helped change money without asking for passports, rented shop floors, or provided other services. Thus small African traders trying to muddle through were often driven to more informal and illegal – or ‘illegalized’ to be more precise – activities to avoid the strict visa, residence and work regulations. The whole situation of African traders in Guangzhou became even more precarious.
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On the international level, the impression that ‘African illegality’ had been constructed in China led to retaliatory measures, for example, against Chinese people in Nigeria (Lan 2015, 301). From the perspective of African–Chinese relations after the Fifth Forum on China-African Cooperation (FOCAC) in Beijing (2012), the flaws of the immigrant law, its anti-immigrant tendencies, the lack of social services for African migrants in China and the neglect of their contribution to the Chinese economy, even if informal, became obvious (ibid.). Before the Seventh FOCAC Forum in Beijing in early September 2018, Chinese press coverage included reports on African traders in Guangzhou highlighting e.g. measures facilitating transport and customs clearance,15 but whether this indicates an improvement of the situation for African traders in Guangzhou remains to be seen.
Conclusion and outlook In a wide variety of business arrangements involving the support of social networks in an emerging African diaspora as well as win–win deals with Chinese internal rural-to-urban migrants, African traders in Guangzhou could survive as part of low-end globalization in the informal economy. With their arrival and the emergence of globalization in practice from below, local governments were challenged to reform the existing legal framework on immigration and foreignerrelated migration governance. Because mobility on the part of African traders is extremely high, their management required innovative solutions and effective cooperation among different relevant departments. Within the framework of an authoritarian political system and an elaborate bureaucratic apparatus, new immigration legislation and governance was implemented, first on a provincial level in Guangdong in 2011 and later on the national level in 2013. In Guangzhou City law enforcement was directed particularly against ‘three illegal’ migrants who lacked valid visas, legal housing, and legal employment. Large numbers of visa over-stayers were created among small African traders in Guangzhou by the new laws and regulations, themselves. Local and national immigration-related legislation was implemented in an uneven and unbalanced manner: While strict law enforcement policies have placed a disproportionate emphasis on inspection and penalty aspects, those parts of the law promising better services for immigrants have been pursued with much less vigour in Guangzhou. Establishing a formal and independent institution directly under the State Council to deal with immigrant affairs has been proposed as a better way to manage the entry and exit of foreigners in the future (Qu 2016, 203, 204). However, this idea did not translate into a corresponding institutional innovation. Instead, a State Immigration Administration (国家移民管理局) under the management of the Ministry of Public Security has been set up as part of the CCP’s institutional reform plan adopted on February 28, 2018.16 The new administration will be responsible for formulating and coordinating immigration policies including through implementation, border control, the administration of foreigners’ stays in
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the country, management of refugees and nationality, taking the lead in dealing with ‘three illegal’ foreigners, and repatriation of illegal foreigners (Cui 2018). From the decision to establish the newly founded administration of international migration as part of the Public Security apparatus it might be suspected that China’s commitment to implementing the Global Compact is dominated by security considerations. Given China’s rapidly developing international relations with many African countries and the political weight of Sino-African relations, another suggestion has been to shape African urban spaces in Guangzhou to create and develop new African Economic Zones as ‘bridges’ (Bodomo) or ‘demonstration zones’ (Li Zhigang) and thus, promote Chinese–African relations which could then assume unique strategical significance (Li/Du 2016, 012). In addition, recognizing African traders in Guangzhou in accordance with their self-understanding, i.e. recognizing them as ‘traders’ as opposed to primarily ‘Black people’ or ‘immigrants’, would be a positive signal of how China understands Sino-African relations in a globalizing world. For China as an emerging immigration country, such an understanding of its role, could not only foster Sino-African economic ties but also raise China’s international prestige and strengthen the credibility of its efforts to promote South–South cooperation (see Jiang and Sun 2017, 126). In a certain way, China’s official rhetoric of mutual benefits and win–win situations in South–South cooperation has had an unintended parallel in the mutually beneficial relations between self-employed internal Chinese migrants and transnational African traders in the informal economy. The variety and scope of such informal transactions have been broadened and intensified by the strict enforcement of visa policies in Guangzhou. Framing the international migration of African traders, mainly as a security issue, fails to acknowledge the economic and international relations dimension of current migration issues and the corresponding challenges to migration governance at various levels. Capacity development, dialogue, and cooperation would be needed to identify and expand the innovative potential in such forms of international migration instead of harnessing human mobility by exaggerated visa control policies.
Notes 1 With Adam McKeown (1999) the concept of diaspora is used here in its more recent context as a signifier of multiplicity, fluidity, wildness, or hybridity. Focusing on the transformations and dislocations created by movement and de-emphasizing moral implications, diaspora is conceptualized ‘as a generalizable category applicable to the understanding and comparison of a wide variety of mobilities and dispersals’ (McKeown 1999, 308/309). 2 www.gzjd.gov.cn, December 17, 2014 3 Xinhua 5.12.17; see also www.xinhuanet.com/english/2018-01/29/c_136933673.htm. 4 In June 2012, more than a hundred Africans gathered outside a police station in Guangzhou where an African had died after being held in custody because of a dispute with a taxi driver. 5 http://english.gov.cn/archive/laws_regulations/2014/09/22/content_281474988553532 .htm, accessed 11 August 2018
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6 During the Mao era from the 1950s to the 1970s the number of foreigners in China decreased rapidly and was very limited. 7 The Chinese term 外国人 has also been translated into English as ‘aliens’. 8 Unofficial English translation at http://lawandborder.com/interim-provisions-guandgo ng-province-administration-services-aliens/. 9 I can confirm this from my own observations in Guangzhou during a long-term stay during 2009–2012. 10 For example, to solve the problem of a lack of translation expertise at police stations, particularly for certain minor languages, the Guangzhou Public Security organs signed an agreement with the South China Normal University on establishing a ‘students’ social practice base’ by which the university’s Department of Foreign Languages can send student volunteers to help with translation. 11 http://cs.mfa.gov.cn/wgrlh/lhqz/lhqzjjs/t1120987.shtml, accessed 10 August 2018. 12 Existing visa categories were: C: crew members, D: permanent residence visas, F: exchange, visits, study tours and research (with an F visa foreigners could no longer conduct commercial activities as before), G: transit visas, J1: visas for foreign journalists at permanent offices of foreign news agencies, and J2: visas for foreign journalists (short-term), L: tourist visas (individual and group travel), X1: student visas for longterm study and X2: student visas for short-term study, and Z: visas for persons who apply for work in China. 13 See Regulations 2013, Article 6; see also Bork and Yuan 2014, 580. 14 See http://www.gzjd.gov.cn/gzjdw/wsbs/bszn/crj_bszn/wgr/20160805/detail-332336. shtml. 15 Carrying Chinese goods on flights still popular with African traders, in China Daily, 31 August 2018. 16 中共中央关于深化党和国家机构改革方案(Decision of the CPC Central Committee on Deepening the Reform of Party and State Institutions) adopted during the third plenary session of the 19th CPC Congress, February 28, 2018.
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广州国际移民区的社会空间景观 (Socio-Spatial Landscape of Immigrant Enclaves in Guangzhou). Nanjing: Southeast University Press, pp. 014–031. Mathews, G. (2015) ‘African logistics agents and middlemen as cultural brokers in Guangzhou’. Journal of Current Chinese Affairs 4, pp. 117–144. Mathews, G. with Lin, L.D. and Yang Y. (2017) The World in Guangzhou. Africans and Other Foreigners in South China’s Global Marketplace. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Mathews, G., Ribeiro, G. and Alba, C. (eds) (2012) Globalization from Below. The World’s Other Economy. London: Routledge. McKeown, A. (1999) ‘Conceptualizing Chinese diasporas 1842 to 1949’. Journal of Asian Studies 58 (2), May, pp. 306–337. Müller, A. and Wehrhahn, R. (2013) ‘Transnational business networks of African intermediaries in China: practises of networking and the role of experiential knowledge’. Die Erde 144 (1), pp. 82–97. Nita, S. (2013) ‘Regional migration governance: a comparative view’.Draft paper prepared for theUNRISD Conference “Regional Governance of Migration and Socio-Political Rights: Institutions, Actors and Processes”, 14–15 January, Geneva, Switzerland, 11pp. Niu Dong 牛冬 (2015a) ‘“Guoke shetuan”: Guangzhou feizhouren de shehui zuzhi “过客社团”: 广州非洲人的社会组织 (“Transient associations”: social organizations of Africans in Guangzhou)’. Shehuixue yanjiu 社会学研究 (Sociological Studies) 2, pp. 124–148. Niu Dong 牛冬 (2015b), ‘Yimin haishi guoke? Guangpiao Feizhouren de xianzhuang guancha 移民还是过客? 广漂非洲人的现状观察 (Immigrant or transient? Observing the current situation of Africans in Guangzhou)’. Wenhua zongheng 文化纵横 (Culture Review) 3, pp. 62–69. Niu Dong牛冬 (2016) ‘Kunjing zhi min: Zhongguo “xin yimin fa” yingxiang xia de Guangzhou feizhouren 困境之民: 中国 “新移民法” 影响下的广州非洲人 (People’s dilemma: Africans in Guangzhou under the impact of China’s “new immigration law)”. In Li Zhigang, et al. (eds.) Guangzhou guoji yiminqu de shehui kongjian jingguan 广州国际移民区的社会空间景观 (Socio-Spatial Landscape of Immigrant Enclaves in Guangzhou). Nanjing: Southeast University Press, pp. 156–167. Pieke, F. (2012) ‘Immigrant China’. Modern China 38 (1), pp. 40–77. Qu Jingrui 屈精瑞 (2016) ‘Guangzhou shi feizhouren guanli wenti yanjiu 广州市非洲人管理问题研究 (Research on management problems with Africans in Guangzhou)’. Fazhi yu shehui 法制与社会 (Legal System and Society) 9, pp. 203–204. United Nations, Department of Economic and Social Affairs, Population Division (2017). International Migration Report 2017: Highlights (ST/ESA/SER.A/404). New York. http://www.un.org/en/development/desa/population/migration/public ations/migrationreport/docs/MigrationReport2017_Highlights.pdf (accessed August 10, 2018). Xiang, B. (2012) ‘Wind through the woods: ethnography of interfaces between migration and institutions’. In Haines, D., Yamanaka, K. and Yamashita, S. (eds.) Wind Over Water: Migration in an East Asian Context. New York: Berghahn Books, pp. 36–46. Xu Junke 许军珂 (2016) Beijing shijie chengshi jianshe zhong de waiguoren guanli yu fuwu jizhi yanjiu 北京世界城市建设中的外国人管理与服务机制研究 (Research on the Management and Service Mechanism of Foreigners in the Process of Developing
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Beijing into a World City), Beijing: Shijie zhishi chubanshe 世界知识出版社 (World Knowledge Press). Zhou Bo 周博 (2016) ‘Zai Hua Feizhouren guanli xin moshi: Guangzhou waiguoren guanli fuwu gongzuozhan 在华非洲人管理新模式: 广州外国人管理服务工作站 (A new management model of Africans in China: Guangzhou station of foreigner management and service)’. Guangxi minzu daxue xuebao 广西民族大学学报 (Journal of Guangxi University for Nationalities) 38 (4), pp. 129–134. Zhou, M., Xu, T. and Shenasi, S. (2016a), ‘Chinese attitudes toward African migrants in Guangzhou’. International Journal of Sociology 46, pp. 141–161. Zhou, M., Xu, T. and Shenasi, S. (2016b), ‘Entrepreneurship and interracial dynamics: a case study of self-employed Africans and Chinese in Guangzhou, China’. Ethnic and Racial Studies 39 (9), pp. 1566–1586.
4
Global city competition and new hierarchies of urban citizenship in China’s migration regime Elena Meyer-Clement and Xiang Wang
Introduction Since the change of leadership in 2012–2013, China’s national government has begun to reshape its policies of internal migration and immigration. Previously, numerous scholars have likened China’s governing of internal migration, and particularly the treatment of rural–urban migrants, to the governing of international migration and the treatment of foreign workers in other countries (Solinger 1999a; Zuo 2014; Johnson 2017; C. Zhang 2018). However, China’s governing of internal migration has not been linked analytically to China’s approach to governing international migration. It is understandable that the different political trajectories of dealing with foreigners and rural–urban migrants in China have generated separate spaces of discussions. However, as Peggy Levitt (2012: 497) points out, ‘the deeply rooted cultural and historical ways in which difference is dealt with, what we might call regimes of diversity management, influence the migration experience’. We consider China’s long-standing policies of dividing urban and rural populations and of steering population movements within the country to be important historical and cultural factors in this respect. Moreover, in view of the recent elaboration of China’s migration policies, we consider it timely to reassess China’s migration regime in an integrated fashion. China’s cities are the primary destinations of foreigners and internal migrants alike. On the one hand, both groups’ arrivals have contributed to the constant renegotiation of local urban citizenship. They have occupied and changed urban spaces as workers, business people, families, and creative artists, and they have triggered political responses by national and local governments regarding the distribution of citizenship rights. On the other hand, the competition among China’s cities over government funding and economic development has often given rise to selective local migration regulations. The literature on the post-industrial restructuring of cities worldwide adds a global perspective to this city competition. Glick Schiller and Çaǧlar (2009, 2010), for example, view the ongoing competition of cities over attracting global capital and new-economy industries as important factors shaping contemporary migration governance. In their efforts related to urban rescaling, cities engage in branding strategies and attempt to provide the necessary human capital as well as economic, educational, and cultural facilities to
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attract the new economies (Glick Schiller and Çaǧlar 2009). These global norms and strategies can be expected to influence the migration regime for both internal migrants and foreigners in China’s cities. In this chapter, we make a first step towards outlining China’s evolving approach to governing migration in its cities under the conditions of national and global city competition. We ask how China’s central and local governments steer who becomes an urban citizen and whether there are early indications of an integrated approach of governing migration in the making. We selected the migration regimes of Shanghai and Yiwu as case studies based on the following considerations. Both cities are located in the same region in China, the prosperous Yangtze River Delta, and have been popular destinations for foreigners as well as internal migrants throughout the reform period. However, they differ substantially in size, administrative rank, and their positioning in the global process of capital restructuring. These differences have shaped the two cities’ approaches to governing migration and defining urban citizenship and have resulted in different opportunities for internal and international migrants. In the following discussion, we first investigate the evolution of China’s differentiated and localized citizenship regime as well as the policies of immigration and foreign residency at the national level. We find a surprising level of alignment among recent immigration policies with the rationales of China’s policies on internal migration, based on the party-state’s conventional strategy of human resource allocation. At the same time, recent policies reflect the diffusion of global norms and city strategies of post-industrial restructuring and urban rescaling as well as general tendencies of migration policies worldwide. This unique combination of global norms and pre-existing national policy rationales is mainly manifested by attracting skilled and educated foreigners and migrants, on the one hand, and strengthening the governance of unwanted individuals, on the other. In the second part of the chapter, the analysis of national policies is amplified with an investigation of the recent branding strategies and policy changes in Shanghai and Yiwu since 2012. Our analysis shows that the diffusion of global norms of urban restructuring and city competition further reinforces the existing hierarchical order of exclusion and inclusion in China’s local citizenship regimes. Meanwhile, the differences between the two cases reveal that China’s central– local relations and the administrative rank of Chinese cities are important factors for understanding how global norms of capital restructuring and city rescaling affect China’s urban migration regimes.
China’s differentiated internal migration regime For the past several decades, China’s migration policies have been primarily directed at internal rural–urban migration. These policies originated in the 1950s, when the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) under Mao Zedong established an elaborate and strictly enforced system to control migration flows into the new socialist cities and to keep peasants in the rural collective economy. Under the household registration (hukou) system, Chinese citizens were required to register
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with the local authorities and were classified into ‘agricultural’ (rural) or ‘nonagricultural’ (urban) populations according to their economic activities. Through stringent restrictions on changing one’s hukou and extensive coupling between hukou and socio-economic entitlements, the state largely managed to keep the farmers on their farmland to serve the nation’s development priorities (Chan and Zhang 1999). Despite the radical economic and social changes during the reform process since 1978, the overall attitude of the central government towards internal migration was characterized by containing the speed of rural–urban migration until the early 2000s. Migrant workers had enjoyed little, if any, citizenship rights in the cities where they resided. These were primarily social rights concerning publicly funded education, housing, and social security (see, e.g., Solinger 1999b, Chan and Zhang 1999; Wu 2010). Only in the early 2000s, when first labour shortages occurred in China’s coastal areas and collective actions were sprouting in different parts of China, the central government reacted with a new emphasis on citizenship rights for rural migrants and social equity. However, at this point, the decision-making in most aspects of social policy, including the hukou policy, had become highly localized. Countyand prefecture-level cities shouldered most administrative and fiscal responsibilities for the provision of public services, all of which were still closely tied to the hukou system. As a result, the reform of the hukou system was only carried out in a ‘controlled, localized, gradual, and incomplete’ manner (Wang 2010: 362). The urban–rural divide of the Mao era basically persisted, and the function of the hukou system, to define differentiated localized citizenship regimes, has even been strengthened (Wang 2010; Vortherms 2015; C. Zhang 2018). Hierarchical differentiation within local citizenship regimes included relatively preferential treatment of college graduates, experts in science and technology, and well-to-do investors and taxpayers. Already in the late 1980s, cities were granting a quasi-hukou status called ‘blue-stamp hukou’ to desired migrants such as property buyers and education migrants (Solinger 1999b). In the 2000s, Guangdong, Shanghai, and some other provinces created provincial residence permits to attract desired migrants by offering them public services and benefits that were not available to general migrants at that time. Around the same time, cities began to implement so-called ‘point-based hukou acquisition systems’ (积分制入户, jifenzhi ruhu). These numeric grading systems convert migrants’ various attributes, such as the level of education or the duration of their enrolment in the local social security system, into cumulative points. A migrant whose total score is above a certain number can receive different benefits, such as local hukou, public housing, or his or her child’s access to public education. The detailed grading schemes and corresponding benefits varied among localities and among different periods, but the benefitting subpopulations were usually the educated, the skilled, and the wealthy. Since 2012, the current Xi Jinping administration has announced several reform plans that appear to aim at unifying Chinese national citizenship. First, under the overarching concept of ‘New-Type Urbanization’ (新型城镇化, xinxing chengzhenhua), migrants shall obtain the hukou status at their migration destinations if they fulfil eligibility requirements (State Council 2014a). This
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process is called shiminhua (市民化), provisionally translated as ‘citizenization’.1 The goal is to ‘citizenize’ 100 million migrants across the country by 2020.2 Second, a nationwide residence permit system for internal migrants is being established. This system puts an end to the temporary residence permit system that had been in effect since 1985 and, to a large extent, standardizes the pre-existing provincial resident permits. According to the new ‘Interim Regulation on Residence Permits’, residence permit holders shall receive basic citizenship rights in their migration destinations, including the right to participate in social insurances and housing funds, access to public, compulsory education for migrant children, and basic public health services (State Council 2015). Last but not least, the central government abolished the ‘agricultural’ and ‘nonagricultural’ hukou categories, creating a single ‘resident’ population category (State Council 2014b).3 The recent reforms centralize many aspects of the governance of internal migration, but they do not abandon local differentiation. Rather, they strengthen central authority over local policymaking by prescribing standards for this differentiation. Although the envisaged standards still vary slightly in the different documents, they all instruct the largest cities to define criteria for eligibility of residence status, and the smaller the cities (or the lower the administrative rank) the more liberal the rules ought to be (see, e.g. State Council 2014a, b, and NPC 2016). The 13th Five-Year Plan (2016–2020), for example, prohibits cities below the size of megacities to implement ‘point-based hukou acquisition systems’ (NPC 2016). Megacities, in contrast, should ‘implement differentiated policies for granting permanent residency using stable legitimate employment, housing (including rented housing), number of years of participation in urban social insurance schemes, and number of years of continuous residence as the main criteria for eligibility’ (ibid.). Moreover, the plan maintains educational level and skills as important priorities even for the smaller cities. These policies underline the fact that the urban–rural differentiation in China’s citizenship regime has transmuted into one based on socio-economic status and educational level. In view of the new level of centralization and central coordination in China’s migration governance, however, this neoliberal rationale appears to unfold under a reinforced conventional approach by the central government to steer population movements in the country to serve the party-state’s developmental goals and priorities.
China’s immigration regime: From ambivalence to formal differentiation China’s relationship with foreigners within its territory has long been characterized by a high degree of ambivalence. Official and unofficial descriptions of the relationship have jumped between friendship and hostility, and they often have framed foreigners as esteemed or contemptuous, admirable or untrustworthy (see also Farrer 2014). After the founding of the People’s Republic of China in 1949, the CCP defined foreigners as the ‘friends’ and ‘guests’ of the new regime and
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introduced an elaborate system of foreign affairs (外事, waishi) to deal with foreign presence (Pieke 2012; Brady 2000). In the decades following the introduction of ‘reform and opening up’ policies in 1978, many restrictions for foreigners and foreign activities in China were gradually loosened. The market-based economic reforms also drew more and more foreigners to China, among them students, businesspeople, traders, returning overseas Chinese, and others.4 Nonetheless, the total number of immigrants and foreigners living in China has continued to be relatively small. China’s population census data from 2010 reported 593,832 foreigners and 170,283 Taiwanese as well as 256,030 residents from Hong Kong and Macau who were residing in China. However, over 10% of them stayed less than three months and about 82.5% of them had lived in China for five years or less (National Bureau of Statistics 2012). The last decade saw a considerable rise, but the total number remains low. The latest UN International Migration Report (2017), for example, puts the number of immigrants in China at 1 million. Unofficial estimates even indicate 2 million, in addition to about 300,000 people working illegally in China (Tatlow 2016). Despite the small total number, regional concentration of foreigners in China has made the presence of foreigners in some cities and regions commonplace. Places such as Shanghai, Beijing, but also Liaoning and Guangxi Provinces, have witnessed the emergence of international communities (see also Shen 2011). Despite the growing number of foreigners, China’s immigration policy changed surprisingly little and legal rules were only occasionally adapted to the changing conditions of foreign presence during the reform process. Only in 2012 did the long-awaited reforms of China’s immigration policy finally gather pace. One important impetus for policy change was the growing importance that policy advisers and high-leading government officials attached to attracting highly skilled and educated labour, or simply talent (人才, rencai). Despite some local programmes for attracting foreigners who were deemed valuable for the local economy since the 1990s, overall, the political attitude regarding foreign labour remained conservative and was reflected in the lack of administrative and legal adaptation. Application processes for visas, work permits, and residence permits continued to be overly complicated and in many ways restrictive. According to the State Administration of Foreign Experts Affairs (SAFEA), in 2013, only 5,105 foreign researchers were based in China, with merely 1,519 of them working in the fields of technology and economics (quoted in CCG 2017: 23). The recent reforms set out to resolve the deficiencies of China’s talent programmes so far. In September 2012, 25 central government agencies jointly issued ‘Measures for Relevant Treatments Enjoyed by Foreigners with Permanent Residence Status in China’ in order to increase the attractiveness of the permanent residence status for foreigners. The ‘Measures’ urge all relevant government departments to improve their services for foreign permanent residents. Most importantly, foreign permanent residents should enjoy equal rights as Chinese citizens (MOHRSS et al. 2012, Art. 1). According to data provided by the Ministry of Public Affairs, in 2013, the ministry approved 1,402 permanent residence permits
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for foreigners (so-called ‘Chinese Green Cards’), none in 2014, 600 in 2015, and 1,576 permits in 2016 (quoted in Wang et al. 2018: 62). Although these numbers are celebrated as a success of China’s recent policies to attract foreign talent, the total official number of foreign workers did not increase. Until January 2016, only 313 foreigners were included in the ‘Recruitment Program of Global Experts’, or the so-called ‘Thousand Talents Program’, which, since the end of 2008, offers subsidies and preferential treatment to highly skilled foreigners (quoted in CCG 2017: 23). Moreover, and probably related to the focus on issuing residence permits, the numbers of foreigners staying in China with a work permit actually decreased (see Figure 4.1). According to reports from the Ministry of Human Resources and Social Security (MOHRSS), the small number of 246,000 foreigners (excluding Taiwanese and residents from Hong Kong and Macao) with a work permit in 2012 dropped to only 235,000 in 2016 (MOHRSS 2012, 2016).5 The number of Taiwanese and residents from Hong Kong and Macao with a work permit also dropped during that time, from 91,500 to 82,000 (ibid.). The available numbers therefore cast some doubt on the actual effects of China’s talent recruitment programmes. Another impetus for policy change was the growing awareness that China’s new prosperity also attracts more and more foreigners whose skills do not directly promote China’s modernization and economic restructuring project, but who mainly want to benefit from China’s economic growth. In this context, Chinese authorities have increasingly worried about the growth of a ‘foreign floating population’ of unskilled labour with temporary employment in China and the number 600000 500000
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Figure 4.1 Work permits issued by the Ministry of Human Resources and Social Security. Source: Ministry of Human Resources and Social Security (MOHRSS) (2012 to 2017) 年度人力资源和社会保障事业发展统计公报 (Annual statistical report on the development of human resources and social security activities), [online] available at: http://www.mohrss.gov.cn/SYrlzyhshbzb/zwgk/szrs/tj gb/ (September 14, 2018).
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of illegal immigrants (Han 2017). National and local media occasionally frames foreigners from developing countries as competition to China’s labour force and connects them to different kinds of corruptive moral behaviour and even criminal activities (see also Pieke 2012; M. Zhang 2012). The recent reforms of China’s immigration policy aim at improving control of the so-called ‘three illegals’ (三非, sanfei), referring to illegal entry, residence, and employment. The new Exit and Entry Law, for the first time, defines ‘unlawful employment’ (非法就业, feifa jiuye) of foreigners (Standing committee of the NPC 2012, Art. 43). This refers to employment without or beyond the scope of a work permit or beyond the scope of employment permitted to a student (ibid.). Consequently, the new Law also defines the rules for interrogation and detention of persons suspected of violating the regulation, and for repatriation (Art. 58–69). The Chinese government’s anxiety about the influx of a growing group of immigrants, not categorized as high talent or at least as professionals, also characterizes its refugee policy, or the lack thereof. While the new Exit and Entry Law introduced ‘temporary identity certificates’ for potential refugees and ‘refugee identity certificates’ (Art. 46), these certificates did not make it into the implementation regulations (UNHCR 2015). In order to identify wanted and unwanted foreigners early on, the new regulatory framework of immigration governance increases the monitoring of foreigners and engages in specific legal differentiation and categorization of foreigners. In April 2018, a new central State Immigration Administration was set up under the Ministry of Public Security. Next to coordinating implementation of immigration policies, the new bureau will gather all relevant information about the identity and activities of foreigners and foreign students in China and facilitate the exchange of information among the relevant departments (see, e.g., Standing Committee of the NPC 2012, Art. 42, 45, State Council 2013, Art. 22, 27). Moreover, employees and institutions of higher education need to inform local exit and entry authorities about any changes of employment or study status of foreign students (State Council 2013, Art. 26). As a trial measure, SAFEA classifies all applicants for the new work permits for foreigners, which integrates the previous ‘foreigner employment permit’ and the ‘foreign experts work permit’, through a point-based system. Taking into account salary, qualification, age, time spent in China, Chinese language skills, and other criteria, the administration separates them into three categories, namely ‘high-end talents’ (A), ‘professional talents’ (B), and ‘others’ (C) (SAFEA n.d.). Only the application of ‘Category A foreigners’, by far the smallest group of applicants, is encouraged, but the acceptance of ‘Category B foreigners’ is limited according to regularly adjusted market demands, and applications of ‘Category C foreigners’ is strictly controlled (ibid.). The new system therefore does not, generally, open the doors to foreigners willing to work in China. Rather, it formally differentiates and categorizes foreigners according to their perceived contribution to China’s economic and social development.6 Such contribution refers only to those posts and activities that, in the eyes of Chinese authorities, either cannot be filled sufficiently by Chinese labour or may increase China’s standing in global competition.
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The case studies: Shanghai and Yiwu The cities of Shanghai and Yiwu are both located in the prosperous Yangtze River Delta. They have long trading traditions and have long been popular destinations for internal and international migrants. The latest official statistics report that there are 9.8 million internal migrants in Shanghai and 1.25 million internal migrants in Yiwu (Shanghai Municipal Statistics Bureau 2017; Editorial Committee of Yiwu Local Gazetteer 2017: 343). As for foreigners, in 2016, the Shanghai Municipal Bureau of Statistics (2017) accounted for 175,674 foreigners as permanent residents alone.7 In Yiwu, in 2012, statistics from official sources reported that over 20,000 permanent residents were foreigners (Hu 2013: 33). Taking only urban population data as a basis, it can be estimated that both cities have a ratio of foreigners residing in the city of at least 1%, which is far above the average in China’s cities.8 However, these two cities also differ in some respects. Most conspicuous is the difference in size and administrative rank. With an official urban population of 21.27 million in 2016, Shanghai is the most populous city in China (National Bureau of Statistics 2017). Shanghai is also one of the four municipalities administered directly under the central government, equivalent to the ranking of a province. In comparison, Yiwu is a sub-prefecture-level city with a permanent resident population of 1.2–1.3 million (Yiwu City Government 2017a).9 Shanghai and Yiwu also differ substantially in their positioning during the postindustrial restructuring process. After 1992, Shanghai’s economic growth rates accelerated, and since then the city has engaged in an astonishing race to catch up with megacity developments worldwide, in terms of infrastructure, capital restructuring, and internationalization.10 Over the last decades, the city has developed into a global financial centre, a major trading centre, and has maintained its position as an important industrial base. More recently, the city has promoted creative industries, developed an internationally renowned education system, and has invested strongly in technological innovation. Yiwu’s economy, in contrast, has a much more limited scope and is primarily known as an international market place for small and cheap commodities. The city government openly acknowledges that the local economy is still at the lower end of the value chain (Yiwu City Government 2017b). However, after winning the central government’s approval as an experimental point of comprehensive reform in international trade in 2011, Yiwu has been striving for economic upgrading (Jiang and Hu 2011). The ‘Belt and Road Initiative’, international trade services, as well as entrepreneurship and innovation are the new economic engines that the city government keenly promotes (Yiwu City Government 2016). The two cities’ different positions in capital restructuring are reflected in their migration demographics. Rapid economic growth has made Shanghai into one of the most popular destinations for all kinds of internal migrants in China, ranging from construction workers to senior managers. At the same time, the city’s long-term linkages with the world have made it a gateway to China for foreign governments, businesses, investors, and students. The large majority of foreigners in Shanghai are
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employees of foreign enterprises and their families, accounting for about 60% of the resident foreigners in Shanghai (Shanghai Municipal Statistics Bureau 2006, 2011). Of the 172,647 foreigners who held residence permits in 2016 (excluding residents from Taiwan, Hong Kong, and Macau as well as 3,027 Chinese ‘Green Card’ holders), by far the largest group was from Japan (31,230), followed by residents from the United States (23,974) and Korea (21,497) (Shanghai Municipal Bureau of Statistics 2017). As for Yiwu, public statistics on foreigners, particularly long-term foreign residents, are less readily available. In 2010, there were about 5,000 permanently residing Koreans and around 6,000 residents from the Arab region (Research Team at the Yiwu Civil Affairs Bureau 2014: 45). Overall, Yiwu attracts more small traders and businesspeople from developing countries than does Shanghai. Many of them come from North Africa and the Middle East, assuming the role of intermediaries for buyers of Chinese products from all over the world (Wen 2018).
Shanghai Branding an ‘excellent global city’ In accordance with Shanghai’s rapid economic restructuring, the city’s preferences regarding its new citizens have changed consistently. As early as 1994, the municipal government introduced the ‘blue-stamp hukou’, which gave privileged residence status, just short of permanent residence, to moneyed and educated migrants.11 In 2002, the ‘blue-stamp hukou’ was substituted with the ‘Shanghai city residence permit’ (Shanghai Municipal Government 2002). In only a few years, Shanghai’s rapid economic growth had diminished the significance of attracting investment in the eyes of Shanghai’s policymakers. Instead, attracting talent became the main priority. China’s first point-based systems for internal and international migrants were integrated into the Shanghai residence permit. These grading systems allowed for more specific selection criteria for urban citizenship, such as age, education, skills, and work experience, and could make migrants eligible for permits for one, three, or five years (Shanghai Municipal Human Resources and Social Security Bureau 2002a, b; see also L. Zhang 2012). Shanghai’s second Master Plan (1999–2020) reflects the changing environment for the city’s policymakers. In the context of China’s WTO entry in December 2001 and the decision for Shanghai to host the World Expo in 2010, the plan set an objective to turn Shanghai into a ‘modern international metropolis’. The plan also recognizes the difficulties of this endeavour in view of global competition during the information age and acknowledges the still-existing deficiencies in relation to ‘world-class cities’, such as New York, London, or Tokyo (Shanghai Municipal Government 2003). Innovation in science and technology and the ability to attract both Chinese and foreign experts with apposite qualifications and skills became important solutions (ibid.). Accordingly, in the following years, the municipality issued a series of programmes for attracting Chinese and overseas high-skilled people. At the same time, the integration of internal migrants into the city’s social welfare systems became an evermore pressing issue. Under the influence of shifting
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national policy goals for migrant integration, the municipal government started to issue policies that would also allow non-permanent residents to participate in local social insurance programmes to some degree. Since 2009, the municipal government has issued its urban service and management policies for the so-called ‘real population’ (实有人口, shiyou renkou), including hukou holders as well as permanent and temporary residents from other provinces. Although clearly maintaining a differentiation among these groups of residents, the policies seemed to point at the possibility of future legal and administrative integration of internal migrants into Shanghai’s urban citizenship. However, migrant numbers have grown much more than anticipated. Whereas in 2010 the Shanghai Municipal Bureau of Statistics accounted for 5.1 million non-local population by the end of 2009,12 after the 2010 population census, this number had to be corrected to account for 8.2 million non-local residents (Shanghai Municipal Statistics Bureau 2011). The latest national urbanization policy, with its new stress on controlling population growth of China’s megacities, has put even more pressure on the city’s migration policy. In 2016, Shanghai set its population control target at 25 million by 2020 (Li 2016). At the same time, the national Five-Year Plan urges megacities to more vigorously participate in global city competition and ‘move faster to become more international’ (NPC 2016). Shanghai and Beijing, should even become ‘internationally influential centers of scientific and technological innovation’ within the next years (ibid.). Shanghai’s latest Master Plan for the period from 2017 to 2035, which starts before the previous Master Plan ends, is a vivid expression of the combination of global and national pressures. It lays out the city’s new branding strategy in the context of the intensifying pressures for talent attraction, migrant integration, and population control. In accordance with national goals, the plan clearly expedites the process of internationalization and schedules how and when Shanghai should establish the foundations for an innovation centre with global influence. By 2020, Shanghai should become an international centre for economy, finance, trade, and shipping and by 2035, should already be an ‘excellent global city’ and ‘an admirable city of innovation, humanity and sustainability’ (Shanghai Municipal Urban Planning and Land Resource Administration Bureau 2018). Similar to the relevant national policy guidelines, the Master Plan stresses citizencentred urban development. It creates the image of a city, which is international, fun, creative, and young, and which cares for all of its citizens as well as its tourists. The strategies to fulfil this image resemble those of other cities worldwide in the race for capital restructuring. They include creating more jobs in technology-intensive sectors and the new economy, developing favourable policies for innovative and creative medium-, small-, and micro-sized businesses as well as building attractive living environments for young and creative talents. At the same time, however, national population control targets impose particularly difficult conditions on Shanghai and aggravate the perception of a conflict between migration and innovation. The goal of demographic steering, as the Master Plan quotes, is thus to substantially increase merely the ‘ratio of innovative groups among the population’ (ibid.).
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Upgrading the population by excluding migrants Changing the composition of the population in terms of educational levels, skills, and age, without actually inviting more people to become citizens, seems an impossible task. Shanghai’s population has continued to grow, and it is ageing. In 2016, for example, 31.6% of the hukou population was over 60 years old, an increase of over 8% compared to 2010 (Shanghai Municipal Statistics Bureau 2011, 2017). Moreover, the largest part of Shanghai’s new residents do not actually have the educational levels and skills promoted by the city’s branding. According to population census data, in 2010, close to 70% of Shanghai’s nonlocal residents had completed only middle- or lower school levels, and most of them worked in manufacturing, wholesale, retail, or construction (Wang et al. 2014). Against the background of these realities and the intensifying pressures to change the economic structure, Shanghai’s regulatory approach to migration has, first and foremost, relied on toughening the entry barriers for new residents in general while lowering the barriers for talents. In 2018, the Shanghai Municipal Government adapted its point-based system for residence status (Shanghai Municipal Government 2017a). It abolished the temporary residence permit and raised the total points necessary for internal migrants to obtain a residence permit, which had ranged from 60 to 90 points, to 120 points altogether. Moreover, the permit is only valid for one year instead of five years. The government also abolished some categories of points, including homeownership and foreign work or study experience, and raised the points in all categories connected to age, education, and professional skills. Awards and other indicators of high talent lead to additional points while forging documents and committing criminal activities are fined with high point reductions (ibid.). The possibility of migrants with lower educational levels entering the city is further constrained by new Measures of the Administration of Shanghai Residence Permits that took effect in May 2018. These clarify that every incoming migrant must now go through the registration process for a residence permit (Shanghai Municipal Government 2017b). The high entry barriers had always meant high constraints for migrants to formalize their stay in Shanghai.13 The integration of registration and residence permit procedures thus can be expected to increase the numbers of migrants not registering at all. Since 2009, holders of residence cards can change to ‘permanent hukou’ status after seven years of permanent residency and social insurance payments. Certain groups of people, such as highly skilled professionals and particularly wealthy people, do not have to wait this long (Shanghai Municipal Government 2009). However, from 2009 to the end of 2015, only 24,000 holders of residence cards changed to hukou status (Jiang 2016). In order to ease the process for the desired groups, since 2017, foreign language and computing skills were removed as necessary skills in the application process, and candidates do not need to prove the accuracy of their points again (Qing 2017).14 These simplifications go back to municipal ‘Opinions on Deepening Talent System Reform in Order to Accelerate the Building of a Science and Technology Innovation Center with
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Global Influence’, also dubbed the ‘30 articles’ for talent (Shanghai Municipal Government 2016b). Since their publication, Shanghai issued 69 policies related to talent and, within two years, supposedly attracted more than 75,000 Chinese talents related to science and technology (Shan and Lin 2018). The new policies are even more relevant for foreign experts. The municipal government substantially lowered the conditions for obtaining work permits, and, in 2017, issued 81,000 work permits for foreigners, more than any other Chinese city (ibid.). Moreover, from October 2016 until March 2017, Shanghai was the pilot for the policy to classify foreigners’ work permits into A, B, and C categories, which is now implemented nationwide. The city thus can claim to be an innovator in China’s regulatory regime on migration. In fact, Shanghai managed to simplify application procedures, clarify the advantages and services connected to residence permits, and reduce the number of responsible departments. However, striking is the neglect of groups not categorized as talents, which still make up the largest group of migrants in Shanghai. Instead, Shanghai’s latest Master Plan includes short-term tourists into so-called ‘population served by the city’, indicating how the municipal government prioritizes the city’s internationalization over further integration of its migrants (Shanghai Municipal Urban Planning and Land Resource Administration Bureau 2017). In addition to the issuing of policies for attracting talent and tourism, geographical distribution of different groups of migrants throughout the city can also be regarded as a strategy for migrant regulation that aims at favourable image building. In the 1990s, Shanghai, by means of regulatory measures and infrastructure concentration, directed foreign investment and foreign enterprises into particular locations, such as development zones (Gu and Tang 2002: 241). Despite the removal of locational constraints for the settlement of foreigners and foreign companies in the city, foreign communities have continued to grow along metro line 2, particularly in Pudong and Minhang Districts (Huang, Guo and Zhu 2013). Foreign experts have thus become highly visible in Shanghai’s central districts. Internal migrants, in contrast, mostly concentrate in suburban districts, where public services are far less available (Ouyang et al. 2017), but rents are cheap and controls less frequent. Moreover, since 2014 the municipal government has engaged in a new round of redevelopment of dilapidated areas, which further accelerates rural migrants’ displacement. Migration studies have shown the manifold contributions that migrants with different skills can make to the repositioning of cities in the global post-industrial restructuring processes (see, e.g., Glick Schiller and Çağlar 2010). In Shanghai, the diffusion of global norms of city competition and international migrant selection, filtered and accelerated by national mandates, further constrains the opportunities of migrants to contribute to urban development. Global norms and national constraints both contribute to reinforcing the hierarchical order of Shanghai citizenship, which James Farrer poignantly describes as follows, ‘international migrants have more rights to the city than rural migrants with national citizenship but limited rights to social citizenship and excluded from participation in other spaces in city center’ (2014: 25). The intensifying national pressures for
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innovation promotion and population control further shift the weighting in this order towards even more preference for international professionals and further degrading of internal migrants.
Yiwu New branding for the ‘world’s supermarket’ Yiwu’s remarkable economic growth, despite its inland location and large rural population, is often credited for bold reforms and high acceptance of immigrants, domestic and abroad. Official newspapers, local cadres, and government officials seem to share the perception that Yiwu is ‘a city of migrants’ (e.g. Zhang 2000; Research Team at the Organization Department of Yiwu CCP Committee 2015). Notably, internal migrants and foreign immigrants are usually discussed together in plans, internal policy analysis, and official media outlets, and both populations are often named ‘contributors from the outside’ (外来建设者, wailai jianshezhe), conveying a positive attitude that is not often found in other major migrant destinations. Integrative measures had already begun in the early 2000s. In December 2001, for example, about 8,000 internal migrants participated in the township elections of the People’s Congress and 10 migrant workers were elected as representatives (Zou 2003). Two years later, eight foreign residents were invited as observers to a meeting of the city’s People’s Congress (Research Office for Party History of Yiwu CCP Committee 2015: 193). Both practices have been regularized since then. Moreover, the Yiwu government exhibits a high level of tolerance for religious diversity, with the large Muslim community and the sizeable Christian community mostly consisting of migrants (see, e.g., Guo 2007). In 2006, two urban communities (社区, shequ) were chosen as experimental sites for integration of foreign immigrants. The local police station installed surveillance cameras and enlisted Chinese-speaking foreigners as assisting staff for administration. Meanwhile, volunteers organized cultural activities and community sports (Li 2006). As early as 2007, foreign immigrants (including residents from Hong Kong, Macau, and Taiwan) were included in the administration of the ‘real population’ (Liu 2008). Note that this was two years earlier than Shanghai even including temporary residents from other provinces in its ‘real population’ (see above). The global financial crisis in 2007–2008 marked a point of reorientation for Yiwu’s migrant governance. Yiwu’s economy suffered a heavy blow from the sharp decrease of exports during the global crisis. Since then, the city has decidedly shifted towards upgrading its economy and increasing its human capital by attracting highly skilled or educated migrants. The government started to aim for Yiwu to become ‘a high ground of finance and logistics, and a center for entrepreneurship, IT and trade’ while maintaining its competitive advantage in the world’s small commodity market (Dong 2010). Since Yiwu received the central government’s approval to set up an experimental site for ‘integrated reforms of international trade’ in 2011, the goal of increasing the city’s level of internationalization has been repeatedly mentioned (Zhou 2015). Since 2008, Yiwu issued and
80 Elena Meyer-Clement and Xiang Wang revised about 20 policies to attract domestic and international talents, including advanced-degree holders, technical experts, and managerial personnel. Moreover, since 2010 the Bureau of Personnel, Labour, and Social Security started to publish catalogues of in-demand jobs, disclosing the salary levels of these jobs in order to ‘let non-local talents see what Yiwu can offer’ (Dong 2010). The cheap but low-skilled migrant labour that once helped Yiwu to build its fortune was now, instead, regarded as a limiting factor for Yiwu’s future (Hu 2013). The recent national urbanization policy mandates have increased the pressure for measures of talent attraction to succeed. Unlike Shanghai, where the pressure of population control is paramount, Yiwu should relax its hukou policy and promote the ‘citizenization’ of rural migrants (State Council 2014a). An implementation guideline for Yiwu from the National Development and Reform Commission in 2014 set the ‘citizenization’ target at 300,000 rural migrants by 2017 (NDRC 2014: 190). The towering pressures to both integrate rural migrants and upgrade the local economy has resulted in the Yiwu government pledging to attract talents at all costs. Upgrading the population by selecting migrants Given the imperative of migrant ‘citizenization’, the Yiwu City government had to substantially ease the settlement conditions for internal migrants. For example, previous applicants for residence permits had to simultaneously fulfil seven conditions, including stable residence and stable employment (Yiwu City Government 2013, Art. 18). In comparison, the amended 2017 regulation allows migrants to obtain the permit if they fulfil one of the following conditions: permanent residence, stable employment, or continuous enrolment in local education institutions (Yiwu City Government 2017c, Art. 19). For migrants wishing to transfer their hukou into Yiwu, from 2013 to 2017, Yiwu implemented its own point-based system to assess migrants’ individual attributes. However, according to the latest national policies, Yiwu’s population size does not qualify for a point-based system. Thus, the system was abolished by the end of 2016 (General Office of Yiwu City 2016). Instead, home-owning migrants with at least two years of residence, stable employment, and continuous social security enrolment can directly apply for hukou transfer. Migrants without stable residence can also apply if they have three years or more of stable employment and have been enrolled in social security (ibid.). That said, as an ironic contrast to the stated central policy goal of migrant integration, these central demands prompted the city government to roll back some of the previous integrative measures and reduce the rights and benefits for migrants who did not wish to ‘citizenize’ and transfer their hukou, respectively. Formerly, children of the 2013 residence permit holders could attend public schools and pursue high-school-level education in Yiwu. Permit holders were eligible for public housing after two years, could apply for government funding for entrepreneurial business or scientific research, and were permitted to take up leadership positions in local state-owned enterprises, institutions of higher education, and research
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institutes (Yiwu City Government 2013 Art. 23). All of these rights and benefits are not included in the 2017 regulation.15 One of the reasons for this reduction, supposedly, is Yiwu’s perceived urgency for economic restructuring. As noted above, this perception has resulted in great efforts to attract skilled migrants. Yet, the imperatives of national policies, especially the prohibition of a point-based system, have urged the city government to find ‘softer’ means of selection and to give preference for hukou transfer over issuance of residence permits. ‘Soft’ means of selection also include additional benefits for high-skilled migrants. Unlike Shanghai, skilled and educated migrants may not naturally gravitate towards Yiwu, an inland city known for small commodities. Previously, the efforts of the city government to upgrade its human capital yielded some, mostly unsatisfactory, results. In 2014, 84.69% of internal migrants in Yiwu still had middle-school education or less (Qin et al. 2015). By mid-2015, the ambitious talent attraction programmes that grant residence permit and hukou, had only issued 1,000-odd permits and approved about 400 hukou transfers for the muchwanted talents (ibid.). Since 2017, the Yiwu government has offered even more benefits and better access to public services for the talents than for the average citizen. According to the latest ‘Opinions on Facilitating Entrepreneurship and Innovation among Talents (for Trial Implementation)’ (Yiwu City Government 2017d), talents of different levels and kinds will receive different benefits accordingly. These benefits include: cash awards for experts, seed funding for startup companies, public education for the migrant children, job referrals for the migrant’s spouse, housing subsidies, express services at different bureaus with a ‘Talent Green Card’, and even access to holiday resorts. Moreover, talents are not required to settle permanently in Yiwu or acquire Yiwu hukou in order to enjoy these benefits. They may maintain their original employment and settlement but make contributions via remote office, consultation, or short-distance commutes. These policies apply to both internal and international migrants, but under the national demand to integrate more internal migrants, they are particularly relevant for differentiating among internal migrants. Other measures facilitating migrant differentiation include a three-tiered classification for migrant tenants of rental housing. Yiwu Public Security Bureau distinguishes between ‘green’ apartments for tenants with long-term rental contracts and stable jobs. Apartments of tenants with short-term residence and high job mobility are classified as ‘yellow’, while apartments of those with suspicious identity, informal jobs, former criminal records, and other ‘abnormal’ issues are ‘red’ and to be inspected every week (Chen and Yang 2015). Yiwu had been a national forerunner in protecting migrants’ citizenship rights and facilitating migrant integration since the 2000s. In contrast to the case of Shanghai, which, under pressure by the national mandates of population control, introduced even harsher selection for internal migrants, the central government urged Yiwu to give up any hard selection of migrants, such as by means of the point-based system, and extend equal citizenship rights to even more migrants. However, global norms related to city competition and economic upgrading overrode national constraints to some degree and pushed the Yiwu government to
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resort to alternative means of selection and differentiated treatments for migrants. These have created new doubts about who can be a citizen of this migrant city. In any case, similar to Shanghai, internal migrants in Yiwu without high skills have been further degraded in the city’s hierarchical citizenship regime.
Conclusion China’s approach to governing migration can be traced back to the 1950s, when the CCP decided to actively control the mobility and residency of the population. Some of the CCP’s ‘key instruments in planning human resource allocation in the industrializing economy’ (Kirkby 1985: 24) have survived long into the reform period, most prominently the hukou system with its bureaucratic linkage of registered residence and public service allocation. More importantly, these institutions created trajectories for the differentiation of the population according to labour market needs and consolidated the idea that the population may be allocated throughout the country according to party-state demands. This history has contributed to China’s ‘diversity management’ (Levitt 2012) and has shaped the experience of its rural–urban migrants for decades. At the same time, China’s changing socio-economic conditions during the reform process, globalization, and the worldwide race for post-industrial restructuring have given rise to adaptations of China’s approach to governing migration, which particularly manifest themselves in China’s latest migration policy reforms. Recent reforms of the hukou system and migrant settlement policies signify a shift in differentiation away from rural–urban attributions and locality towards differentiation according to educational and skill levels. Duration of residency and enrolment in local social security systems have become other important factors of differentiation,16 leaning heavily towards migrants with formal and stable employment, who are already urban citizens in many respects. A second important adaptation of China’s approach to governing migration is China’s active participation in the global competition over high-skilled labour. As a result, the central government’s treatment of foreigners has moved from ambivalence to a differentiation according to educational and skill levels that resembles that of rural–urban migrants. Arguably, foreigners thus become an integral part of China’s trajectory of human resource allocation. This is connected to an increase in the government’s gathering of detailed information about foreigners in the country, which is supported by the fast-developing digital technology and formal categorization of different groups of foreigners. Whereas nationally, the separate bureaucracies impede an integrated treatment of international and internal migrants, locally, tangible administrative integration has progressed for years. Cities strive for post-industrial upgrading and participate in the global competition over urban rescaling (Glick Schiller and Çağlar 2010), and, as our case studies show, this has an effect on China’s local migration regimes. Despite their large differences in size and economic histories, in recent years, both Shanghai and Yiwu have stepped up their efforts for attracting internal and international high-skilled labour for capital restructuring.
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The observed differences in the two cities’ approaches in governing migration point to the strong impact of China’s central–local relations on urban migration policies. The latest national reforms have come with a far-reaching centralization of migration and urbanization policies. These policies prescribe strict controls of population growth in conjunction with a higher global influence in technological innovation for Shanghai but have forced Yiwu to abolish point-based selection of migrants and offer urban residence to a particular number of rural migrants. Despite Yiwu’s history as a destination for international migration, the city thus joined the growing competition of China’s smaller cities over the highest skilled internal migrants. Overall, China’s new approach to governing migration is still in the making, but recent policy changes point to further adaptation of China’s approach to international trends of migrant selection, namely, attraction of high-skilled labour and rejection of low-skilled labour. This does not only refer to international migration. In contrast to official utterances of abolishment of the hukou system and accelerated integration of rural migrants, the access of internal migrants to China’s cities follows the same lines. Rural migrants had remained marginal in the cities for decades and there had been some hopes for change with China’s recent urbanization policies that so keenly emphasize migrant integration in China’s cities. However, our case studies show that the hierarchical orders of exclusion and inclusion in China’s urban citizenship regimes are expanding. In Shanghai, national mandates of population control and innovation promotion further degrade internal migrants altogether in the citizenship hierarchy, and in Yiwu, the diffusion of global norms in capital restructuring and urban rescaling overrides the effects of prescribed national policies of migrant integration and further degrades low-skilled internal migrants. So far, the current national and local programmes for attracting talents appear less successful than some statistics and official city images suggest. On the other hand, it seems certain that new incoming rural migrants in China’s cities are going to face even harsher selection criteria for urban citizenship.
Notes 1 On the different facets of the term, see also Mobrand 2015. 2 A speech by Premier Li Keqiang originally set rural migrants as the target population of ‘citizenization’ (Li 2014). In response to worries by local governments, the State Council in 2016 expanded the target population to other internal migrants who do not hold the hukou of their migration destinations (General Office of the State Council 2016). 3 In line with the changes of the hukou system, the pension insurance system and the health insurance system shall unify the previously parallel systems for urban and rural populations. 4 See also Pieke 2012: 46, who broadly distinguishes five groups of immigrants to China, including also cross-border migrants and ‘casual “fortune seekers”’. 5 Unfortunately, after 2016, the MOHRSS does not provide numbers on foreign work permits anymore, because since April 2017, the State Administration of Foreign
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Elena Meyer-Clement and Xiang Wang Experts Affairs (SAFEA) is responsible for all foreign work visa application processes, and SAFEA has not provided data on the issuance of foreign work permits so far. Similar trends of differentiation and categorization of foreigners are evident in the visa system, where the latest round of reforms added seven more visa categories (State Council 2013, Art. 6, 9). For even higher, unofficial estimates for some nationalities, see Farrer 2014. According to the census data of 2010 and taking into account the numbers of urban population and foreigners, including Taiwanese, the ratio of foreigners residing in Chinese cities was 0.19% on average and 0.9% in Shanghai (National Bureau of Statistics 2012). As a sub-prefecture-level city, Yiwu has not been given the designation of prefectural status yet but has considerably more administrative power than other county-level cities. For some developments in foreign investments, trade, and international connections, see Gu and Tang 2002. Although the ‘blue-stamp’ hukou was originally designated as an integrative policy for both internal and international migrants, corrections in 1998 abolished foreigners’ permission to obtain such hukou (Shanghai Municipal Government 1998). Supposedly, this was not in line with national political preferences at the time. This number includes all non-Shanghai hukou holders who have stayed in Shanghai for at least six months. In 2016, the Public Security Bureau reported that 5.37 million out of the 11 million internal migrants (48.8%) did not hold any residence permit (Fu 2016). For reasons unknown to the authors, the municipal government still prolonged the relevant Measures for People Holding Shanghai Residence Cards Applying for Permanent Hukou, which were scheduled to be amended at the end of 2016, until the end of 2019 (Shanghai Municipal Government 2016a). In return, there are only a few newly available rights and benefits since 2017. Permit holders can now receive subsidized treatment of transmittable diseases and temporary social assistance if they fulfil the conditions (Art. 25). Married couples can receive basic birth planning services and their children can receive subsidized vaccines (Art. 25). On the multiplication of differentiation in China’s citizenship regime, see also C. Zhang 2018.
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Research Office for Party History of Yiwu CCP Committee and Local Records Office of Yiwu City (2015) 起步新世纪:2001–2006 义乌纪事 (Beginning of the New Century: Yiwu’s Chronicle 2001–2006). 中共党史出版社 (History of Chinese Communist Party Publishing House), [online] available at: http://www.yw.gov.cn/zjyw/dfzj/ywjs/201504 /P020150417567931415988.pdf (accessed September 13, 2018). Research Team at the Organization Department of Yiwu CCP Committee 义乌市委组 织部课题组 (2015) ‘新型城市化下加强组织和人才工作的对策研究 (Research on the countermeasures for strengthening organization and the work of talent attraction in new-type urbanization)’. Shiqing Luntan 59, pp. 25–32, [online] available at: http: //dx.yw.gov.cn/kxyj/ktsb/201505/t20150512_714993.html. (accessed September 13, 2018). Research Team at the Yiwu Civil Affairs Bureau 义乌市民政局调研组 (2014) ‘浅析境外人口参与社区服务和管理机制的探索 (A preliminary analysis of the exploratory mechanisms to engage foreigners in community service and management)’. Shiqing Luntan 55, pp. 45–50, [online] available at: http://dx.yw.gov.cn/kxyj/ktsb/ 201412/t20141203_644813.html (accessed September 13, 2018). Shan, Y. and Lin, F. (2018) ‘聚天下英才而用之 沪吸引外国人才数21.5万居全国首位 (Attract talents from the world and utilize them, Shanghai ranks top in the country to attract 215 thousands of foreign talents)’. China National Radio, March 26, [online] available at: http://www.cnr.cn/shanghai/tt/20180326/t20180326_524177240.shtml (accessed September 13, 2018). Shanghai Municipal Government (1998) 上海市人民政府关于修改〈上海市蓝印户口 管理暂行规定〉的决定 (Decisions about Amending the Interim Regulations on the Administration of Blue-Print Hukou in Shanghai Municipality), October 26. Shanghai Municipal Government (2002) 引进人才实行《上海市居住证》制度暂行规定 (Interim Regulations on Implementing the Shanghai Residence Permit System for Admitted Talents), April 30. Shanghai Municipal Government (2003) 上海市人民政府关于印发上海市城市总体 规划(1999年-2020年)中、近期建设行动计划的通知 (Notice on Issuing the Nearand Mid-Term Action Plans for the Master Plan of Shanghai Municipality (1999–2020)), October 4. Shanghai Municipal Government (2009) 上海市实有人口服务和管理若干规定(暂 行)(Regulations on the Service and Management of Real Population in Shanghai (Trial)), October 28. Shanghai Municipal Government (2016a) 市政府关于延长《持有上海市居住证人员 申办本市常住户口办法》有效期的通知 (Notice about Extending the Measures for Shanghai Residence Permit Holders Applying for Local Hukou), December 27. Shanghai Municipal Government (2016b) 关于进一步深化人才发展体制机制改革加 快推进具有全球影响力的科技创新中心建设的实施意见 (Opinions on Deepening Talent System Reform in Order to Accelerate the Building of a Science and Technology Innovation Center with Global Influence), September 26. Shanghai Municipal Government (2017a) 上海市人民政府关于印发《上海市 居住证积分管理办法》的通知 (Notice of Issuing the Measures for the Point-Based System of Shanghai Residence Permit), December 28. Shanghai Municipal Government (2017b) 上海市居住证管理办法 (Measures for the Administration of Shanghai Residence Permits), November 27. Shanghai Municipal Human Resources and Social Security Bureau (2002a) 国内人才申领《上海市居住证》审核试行办法 (Trial Measures for Reviewing the Applications for Shanghai Residence Permit for Domestic Talents), June 1.
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Shanghai Municipal Human Resources and Social Security Bureau (2002b) 境外人才申领《上海市居住证》审核试行办法 (Trial Measures for Reviewing the Applications for Shanghai Residence Permit for Foreign Talents), June 15. Shanghai Municipal Statistics Bureau (2006, 2011, 2017) 上海统计年鉴 (Shanghai Statistical Yearbook 2006, 2011, 2017), [online] available at: http://tjj.sh.gov.cn/html/ sjfb/201801/1001529.html (accessed September 10, 2018). Shanghai Municipal Urban Planning and Land Resource Administration Bureau (2018) 上海市规划和国土资源管理局 (2018) 上海市城市总体规划 (2017–2035). (Shanghai Master Plan (2017–2035)), January 5. Shen, H. (2011) ‘Inflow of international immigrants challenges China’s migration policy’. Brookings (blog), September 8, [online] available at: https://www.brookings.edu/ opinions/inflow-of-international-immigrants-challenges-chinas-migration-policy/ (accessed September 13, 2018). Solinger, D.J. (1999a) ‘Citizenship issues in China’s internal migration: comparisons with Germany and Japan’. Political Science Quarterly 114 (3), pp. 455–78. Solinger, D.J. (1999b) Contesting Citizenship in Urban China. Peasant Migrants, the State, and the Logic of the Market. Berkeley, CA: University of California Press. Standing Committee of the National People’s Congress (NPC) (2012) 中华人民共和国出境 入境管理法 (Exit-Entry Administration Law of the People’s Republic of China), 30 June. State Administration of Foreign Experts Affairs (SAFEA) (n.d.) Evaluation Criteria for Foreigners Employed in China (Trial), [online] available at: http://en.safea.gov.cn/ (accessed September 13, 2018). State Council (2013) 中华人民共和国外国人入境出境管理条例 (Regulation of the People’s Republic of China on the Administration of the Entry and Exit of Foreign Nationals), July 12. State Council (2014a) 国家新型城镇化规划 (2014–2020) (National New-Type Urbanization Plan (2014–2020)), March 16. State Council (2014b) 国务院关于进一步推进户籍制度改革的意见 (Opinions about Further Promoting Hukou Reform), July 24. State Council (2015) 居住证暂行条例 (Interim Regulations on Residence Permits), November 26. Tatlow, D.K. (2016) ‘Hoping to work in China? If you’re a class C foreigner, it may be tough’. The New York Times, January 20, [online] available at: https://www.nytimes.com /2016/09/22/world/asia/china-work-permit-visa.html (accessed September 13, 2018). UNHCR (2015) The People’s Republic of China – fact sheet, [online] available at: http:// www.unhcr.org/5000187d9.html (accessed September 13, 2018). United Nations (2017) 2017 International Migration Report United Nations (Highlights), [online] available at: http://www.un.org/en/development/desa/population/migration /publications/migrationreport/docs/MigrationReport2017_Highlights.pdf (accessed September 13, 2018). Vortherms, S.A. (2015) ‘Localized citizenships: household registration as an internal citizenship institution’. In Guo Z. and Guo S. (eds.) Theorizing Chinese Citizenship. Lanham, MD: Lexington Books, pp. 85–107. Wang, F. (2010) ‘Renovating the great floodgate: the reform of China’s Hukou system’. In Whyte, M.K. (ed.) One Country, Two Societies: Rural-Urban Inequality in Contemporary China. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, pp. 335–64. Wang, H., Miao, L., Yang, J., Zheng, J. (2018) ‘世界与中国国际移民现状与特点 (The current state of affairs and characteristics of international migration in the world and
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in China)’. In Yang, J., Miao, L. and Wang, H. (eds.) 中国国际移民报告 (2018) (China International Migration Report (2018)). Beijing: 社会科学文献出版社 (Social Sciences Academic Press (China)), pp. 1–70. Wang, Z., Zhou, H., Chen, G., Gao, H. (2014) ‘上海人口规模和结构调控形势与对策研究 (Study on the adjustment of population size and structure in Shanghai)’. In Zhou, H. and Lu, H (eds.) 上海社会发展报告 (2014) (Annual Report on Social Development of Shanghai (2014)), Beijing: 社会科学文献出版社 (Social Sciences Academic Press (China)), pp. 20–36. Wen, M. (2018) ‘The Chinese dreams of Arabian traders in Yiwu’. In Golley, J. and Jaivin, L. (eds) China Story Yearbook 2017: Prosperity. Canberra, ACT: ANU Press, pp. 140–43. Wu, J. (2010) ‘Rural migrant workers and China’s differential citizenship. A comparative institutional analysis’. In Whyte, M.K. (ed.) One Country, Two Societies. Rural-Urban Inequality in Contemporary China, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, pp. 55–81. Yiwu City Government (2013) 义乌市人民政府关于印发《义乌市流动人口居住登 记管理办法》的通知 (Notice about Issuing the Administrative Measures for the Residential Registration of Migrant Population in Yiwu City by the Yiwu City Government), March 26. Yiwu City Government (2016) 义乌市国民经济和社会发展第十三个五年规划纲要 (Outline of the Thirteenth Five-Year Plan of Yiwu City’s Economic and Social Development), March 30. Yiwu City Government (2017a) 2016 年义乌市国民经济和社会发展统计公报 (2016 Statistical Report on Yiwu City’s Economic and Social Development), [online] available at: http://www.yw.gov.cn/zwgk/a/07/02/201801/t20180108_1292534.shtml (accessed August 10, 2018). Yiwu City Government (2017b) 2017 年政府工作报告 (2017 Report on the Work of the Government), [online] available at: http://www.yw.gov.cn/zwgk/a/06/01/201702/t201 70224_1292237.shtml (accessed August 15, 2018). Yiwu City Government (2017c) 关于印发《义乌市流动人口居住登记管理办法》 的通知 (Notice on Issuing the Administrative Measures for the Residential Registration of Migrant Population in Yiwu City), January 16. Yiwu City Government (2017d) 关于支持人才创业创新的若干意见(试行)(Opinions on Supporting the Entrepreneurship and Innovation of Talents), May 24. Zhang, C. (2018) ‘Governing neoliberal authoritarian citizenship: theorizing Hukou and the Changing mobility regime in China’. Citizenship Studies 22 (8), pp. 855–81. Zhang, J. (2000) ‘本地人口城镇化,外地人口本地化:义乌构筑新兴移民城市 (Urbanizing local population, localizing non-local population: Yiwu builds a new migrant city)’. 浙江日报 (Zhejiang Daily), [online] available at: http://www.yw.gov.cn /zjyw/ywkf/2000/csfzp/200710/t20071018_238926.shtml (accessed August 7, 2018). Zhang, L. (2012) ‘Economic migration and urban citizenship in China: the role of points systems’. Population and Development Review 38 (3), pp. 503–33. Zhang, M. (2012) ‘义乌市外国人分层研究 (Social stratification of foreigners in Yiwu)’. 长江大学学报(社会科学版)(Journal of Yangtze University (Social Sciences)) 35 (3), pp. 59–60. Zhou, K. (2015) ‘今年我市将落实 “十大举措” (“Ten actions” will be implemented in our city this year)’. 义乌商报 (Yiwu News), June 5, [online] available at: http://szb.ywnews .cn/html/2015-06/05/content_2_3.htm (accessed September 1, 2018).
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Zou, S. (2003) ‘实现流动人口宪政权力的积极尝试 – 关于义乌外来工当选镇人大 代表改革探索的调查报告 (Positive attempt at realizing the constitutional power of migrant population: research report about the experimental reform of electing migrant workers as representative of the township People’s Congress in Yiwu)’. In Wang Y. (ed.) 当代中国政治研究报告 II (Contemporary Chinese Political Studies II). Beijing: 社科文献出版社 (Social Sciences Academic Press (China)), pp. 316–335. Zuo, X. (2014) ‘全球移民治理与中国困局 (Global migration governance and the dilemma of China)’. 广东社会科学 (Social Sciences in Guangdong) 5, pp. 184–198.
5
‘Three evils’ and ‘three illegals’ Discourses on ‘illegal’ immigration in China Franziska Plümmer
Introduction The question of how ‘illegal’ immigration is defined, how the discourse around it is constructed, and how it is regulated distinguishes immigration regimes. What is construed as ‘illegal’ shows how (national) identity is constructed and indicates how borders are supposed to function, filtering out those who could possibly disturb the community. For the longest time, the ‘myth of mastering the frontier’ suggested that the nation-state could effectively close the border against unwanted immigrants and select those who are eligible (Bigo 2005). Immigration regimes, however, not only regulate legal immigration procedures but also have to regulate ‘illegal’ immigrants. The existence of ‘illegals’ alone is an offence against state regulations and thus a criminal act. In other words, states define immigration procedures to enforce selection criteria differentiating wanted from unwanted immigration; yet, states do have to engage with both wanted and unwanted immigrants: selecting the ‘good’ ones and processing their immigration while designing preventive measures against the less desired. Hence, the question of ‘illegality’ is dialectically woven into the design of immigration regulations. Accordingly, this chapter deals with the question of how ‘illegal’ immigration is governed in China. Specifically, it looks at how the discourse on ‘illegal’ immigration has been constructed as ‘dangerous mobilities’ threatening public security (Walters 2006, 199) and how it is linked to criminal behaviour and terrorist activities. Since the 1990s, a narrative of ‘three illegals’ (sanfei: feifa rujing, feifa juliu, feifa jiuye; illegally entering, illegally residing, and illegally working) emerged in China’s political discourse. This discourse is embedded in a larger narrative of immigration, which is presented as a danger to the public order, cultural identity, and labour market stability. Building on the differentiation, regular immigrants (yimin) are wanted within China’s search for talent, while ‘illegal’ immigrants (feifa yimin) are constructed as a threat. However, some localities attempt to legalize these immigrants, as they are considered important to their local community. This chapter argues that the differentiation between ‘illegal’ and regular immigration has been constructed over time through the sanfei discourse that has conceptualized ‘illegality’ as a crime, endangering political stability, the harmonious society, and ‘population security’ and has ultimately securitized
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‘illegal’ immigration. The sanfei narrative developed as a decentralized academic discourse on ‘foreign wives’ that built political momentum throughout the 2000s (Barabantseva 2015a).1 The discourse has become institutionalized in the 2012 Exit and Entry Administration Law and has been translated into policy by the recently established State Immigration Administration (SIA, guojia yimin guanliju, State Immigration Administration 2018), whose task is to coordinate the sanfei policy (China Press 2018). Being transformed into official policy, the discourse was transposed into Beijing’s political agenda and further legitimizes a comprehensive crackdown against this group of immigrants. Against this backdrop, a detailed analysis of how this discourse developed and how it is integrated into the larger immigration regime and its practices becomes necessary. The question of how ‘illegality’ is constructed in a political context has implications for how political and social citizenship is perceived, how migration impacts concepts of citizenship and population security, and how a specific immigration regime (and its bureaucracies) incorporates and differentiates among (non-)citizens. Referring to the conceptual framework of this book, the question of how citizenship is practised in China is the object of this chapter’s inquiry. The Chinese citizenship approach is inherently graduated (Ong 2006, Zhang 2018). This graduated approach implies that state bureaucracies apply different strategies towards different population groups, a method which equally applies to immigrants resulting in various immigration procedures that depend both on the immigrants themselves (where they come from and how much they earn) and on the locality where they are residing and working in China. Accordingly, I argue that ‘illegality’ is also not a coherent legal category, but a space- and context-specific citizenship practice, hence hence, I use the term ‘graduated illegality’. Subsequently, in this chapter, I look at how the discourse on ‘illegal’ immigration in China is tied to wider societal and political dynamics, namely, the quest to ensure population security against ‘outside agitators’ and to establish regional security within the Shanghai Cooperation Organization (SCO). China uses its platform within this regional organization to get its regulations validated by regional partners by up-scaling the discourse to a regional level. This way, the counter-measures against unwanted immigrations gain more legitimation as the discourse is diffused among other regional actors. This chapter shows in detail how ‘illegal’ immigration is linked to representations of societal danger in China and implicated within the SCO’s joint fight against terrorism. The key development has been a similar representation of ‘illegal’ immigration in the Chinese sanfei discourse and the regional ‘three evils’ discourse. This chapter argues that the Chinese government draws on the regional security discourse to legitimize its actions and to allocate resources against unwanted immigrants. Both discourses construct a ‘joint enemy’ – the ‘illegal’ immigrant who is a potential terrorist – that justifies the fight against terrorism, secessionism, and extremism within the SCO member countries, the crackdown on ‘illegal’ immigration in China, and more specifically, population control in Xinjiang. Both discourses link ‘illegality’ to criminal behaviour, hence securitizing the issues. Within the SCO discourse, immigration is seen in the context of Islamic terrorism in Central Asia that
‘Three evils’ and ‘three illegals’ 93 legitimizes enhanced border security that specifically targets the border population. As such, immigration has been integrated into the security field, while ‘illegal’ immigration has become a primary threat to the region’s stability. In the following section, I engage with the literature, discussing a securitization of China’s border and immigration politics and arguing that in the Chinese context an understanding of which actors are facilitating or resisting a securitization of ‘illegal’ immigrants is essential. Further, I draw an Aihwa Ong’s concept of ‘graduated citizenship’ to explain differentiated discursive references of ‘illegal’ immigrants which are inherent to the Chinese immigration regime, producing practices of ‘graduated illegality’. Subsequently, I turn to the official Chinese discourse on ‘illegality’ and how it ‘threatens’ national harmony, stability, and population quality. I show how the sanfei discourse has become increasingly securitized, while at the same time being challenged by local actor’s efforts to legalize ‘illegal’ immigrants. Then, I turn to the ‘three evils’ discourse within the SCO that – from a Chinese perspective – combines internal and external threat perspectives for regional security. The discourse securitizes ‘foreign influence’ and ‘illegal immigration’ by comparing them with terrorism and omitting a public debate on the issue and, subsequently, by not differentiating among groups of immigrants.
Securitizing immigration Immigration is increasingly being seen as a security issue: Political discourses all over the world associate the mobility of ‘unwanted’ people as a negative consequence of globalization (Bigo 2002, 63). A ‘continuum of threats’, such as the rise of insecurity, crime, and terrorism, is linked to the mobility of immigration (ibid.). In the EU, the underlying premise is that ‘the abolition of internal border controls, transnational flows of goods, capital, services, and people will challenge public order and the rule of law’ (Huysmans 2000, 758). Accordingly, rising numbers of immigrants challenge the stability of the European market, the welfare state, and the European cultural identity. Immigration thus became a ‘meta-issue’ legitimizing different kinds of policies, including restrictive visa policies, integration policies, questions of social distribution, and identity control (ibid., 770). Governments respond by increasingly re-locating immigration ‘management’ away from ‘normal’ politics and into a ‘governmentality by fear’, that governs from a distance and increasingly delegates administrative responsibilities to externalized security actors beyond the traditional nation-state (Bigo 2005, 76). Hence, immigration has become securitized for shifting the migration issue away from ‘normal’ politics and into a realm of extraordinary and exceptional measures and for creating discursive links between ‘illegal migration’ and societal dangers.2 Accordingly, this chapter analyzes the specific process through which ‘illegal’ immigration in China has become a security issue, what actors are involved, the implications for the Chinese immigration regime, and what outcome it has produced in terms of policy implementation and military control over certain areas. The term ‘illegal’ immigration, here, refers to a symbolic meaning, a discourse-specific construction
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of ‘illegality’ in the Chinese context; it is not a reference to the broader understanding of ‘illegality’ which might include undocumented and unregulated migration, and especially not to (organized) human trafficking.3 I argue that the securitization of ‘illegal’ immigration in China is an inherent strategy of control by the Chinese political regime. It helps construct a danger to population security and social stability and legitimates laws and legal procedures that keep ‘illegal immigrants’ out by treating them as criminals and terrorists. How discursive practices in different countries have manifested the image of immigrants as enemies has been extensively shown in the literature. Bigo argued that in the context of regional integration of the EU, it has become increasingly challenging for security actors (such as the police and the military) to define their scope of action inside and outside of a the state’s territory: The visibility of ‘the enemy’ has become more complicated, both within and beyond the nation-state. Now, the enemy could be the enemy within (Bigo 2001, 107). This ultimately results in the construction of a ‘social Other’ that threatens the existing order: the ‘threat of illegal immigration’ endangers social stability and economic justice (Tsoukala 2005, 162). In this way, (illegal) immigration has become politicized and securitized. Against this backdrop, Gerard and Pickering show how the EU securitized ‘irregular’ immigrants, including refugees, by inventing preventive measures such as ‘transit countries’ and accounts of ‘secondary migration’ (Gerard and Pickering 2014). Similarly, Oelgemueller has shown how the historical construction of ‘transit countries’ suspends migrants’ rights (Oelgemöller 2011). Nyers shows how new technologies of control (such as detention) and strategies of exclusion (such as deportation) undermine ‘cultures of asylum’ (Nyers 2003). In Canada, a deeply racially entrenched discourse reproduced by the press stigmatizes migrants as threatening ‘human security’ (Ibrahim 2005). These studies show how after 9/11, ‘media and governments increasingly constructed the migrant, refugee, alien, and “Other” as a threat to security […] preserving the high status of migration on most states’ security agendas’. This increasingly justifies extraordinary measures both against immigrants (such as ‘emergency deportations’) and against citizens (e.g. by applying biometric surveillance) (Muller 2004, 282). The literature on China has so far addressed the construction of ‘internal others’ by showing how the policy of household registration has produced social hierarchies that define internal migrants as second-class citizens and as a risk to public order (Biao 2016; Vortherms 2015; Zhang 2018). Except for literature covering the racialized debates in the aftermath of immigrants’ struggles in Guangzhou (Bettina Granzow’s chapter in this book, Castillo 2015; Huang 2018), the question of how foreign migrants have been perceived has been academically under-represented. With regard to China’s frontier security, Cui and Li argue that the development programmes targeting China’s west function as a ‘de-securitizing’ act (Cui and Li 2011, 157): While the Chinese government historically securitized the secession of Xinjiang and subsequently the people living in the border area, the development programmes de-securitized the sensitive political situation in the province as they aimed at reducing underdevelopment
‘Three evils’ and ‘three illegals’ 95 through specific government policies for better education and job opportunities, and at re-integrating the border citizens into the national project of China becoming a multi-ethnic state. While I follow the underlying premise that economic development helps in stabilizing a region and may de facto de-securitize, I am critical about the authors’ assumption that the same actor, the Chinese government, simultaneously applies securitization and de-securitization with regard to the border citizens as the authors fail to address either fractionation within the government or the fragmentation of the Chinese state that would facilitate a strategic shift to the previous counter-terrorism approach. In contrast, Wishnick’s analysis of the Chinese–Russian border accounts for political fractions. She addresses actor constellations within a fragmented authoritarian Russian state. She refers to the case of Chinese immigration into Russia and explains that although Russian politicians effectively securitized Chinese immigration, the local practices and policies did not enforce the speech acts in order to avoid bilateral tensions (Wishnick 2008, 85). In non-democratic systems, especially, the question of who securitizes, who speaks security, and what policies actually follow is more critical, as the state itself often incorporates different discourses and practices on different political levels. Correspondingly, Curley emphasizes the importance of ‘centre-periphery relations, bureaucratic capacity and resistance, and the particular socio-cultural context’ in the system under investigation (Curley 2008, 19). She identifies ‘regional autonomy and uneven policy impact(s)’ as facilitators for successful securitization, which are characteristics of both Southeast and Northeast Asian nations. Such characteristics have historically resulted from great geographical distances between the central government and the periphery (ibid., 28). Besides the difference in specific political context, the differentiation among concepts of citizenship is central to the conceptualization of ‘illegality’. The continuum of ‘citizen – immigrant – illegal immigrant’ constitutes a social ordering process that is subject to continuous re-negotiation among different actors, whether that process takes place in a pluralistic and democratic or hierarchical autocratic society. With regard to the EU, the literature addresses processes of ‘othering’ through a differentiation between citizens and non-citizens following the ‘myth of mastering the frontiers’, namely, the (false) assumption that a government could close a border if they decided to do so and, consequently, exclude unwanted non-citizens (Bigo 2005, 76–79; Tsoukala 2005, 161f.). With regard to China, Aihwa Ong (2006) introduced the concept of ‘graduated citizenship’ that further differentiates among citizens. She argues that ‘graduated zones of sovereignty’ (such as Special Administrative Zones) constitute spaces of differentiated modes of government that are individually applied to the governing of their citizens (e.g. migrant workers), eventually creating different governmentalities (disciplinary, pastoral, and regulatory). She states, ‘while low-skilled workers are disciplined, elite workers and members of dominant ethnic groups enjoy affirmative action and pastoral care’ (ibid., 79). This eventually results in a ‘graduated citizenship’, according to which the government distinguishes the method and amount that it wants to invest in a specific group of citizens. To her, this results in
96 Franziska Plümmer a continuum of governing that performs according to ‘racial, religious, and gender hierarchies’ (ibid., 84). Drawing on this understanding of ‘graduated citizenship’, I argue that the Chinese immigration regime produces differentiated practices of ‘illegality’. While the Chinese immigration law only differentiates between ‘illegal’ and ‘legal’ immigration, the discursive practices and enforcement, however, vary with regard to the location of the ‘illegal’ immigrant. This ultimately produces ‘graduated illegality’, stemming from an ongoing process of re-negotiation within the Chinese political regime. Here, different actors follow different rationalities. While capitalist forces aim at attracting and integrating ‘suitable’ immigrants in their ‘talent migration schemes’ (Czoske and Ahl 2016 and also their chapter in this book; Zweig 2006), actors within the security field continuously securitize immigration by aiming at ‘closing’ the border or at least tightly controlling immigration. The Chinese Communist Party (CCP) follows this securitizing approach as was recently shown in the establishment of the SIA that institutionalized the sanfei discourse into the official immigration policy agenda. The discourse on ‘illegal’ immigration, however, must also be seen in the context of China’s racially hierarchic society, as an intersectional issue of citizenship and race. Here, the question of ‘wanted’ immigrants and ‘good’ citizens is strongly intertwined as China is a multi-ethnic nation-state that struggles to integrate large parts of its ‘ethnic’ citizens. This has been shown in the recently published ‘policy justification’ on the government’s ‘counter-terrorism measures’ in Xinjiang that included: Han migration schemes into the region (Joniak-Lüthi 2013), large-scale incarceration of ethnic Uighurs, and strict population controls that justify surveillance of people’s behaviour, such as religious and consumer practices (Zenz and Leibold 2017). Reproducing the official discourse, the media has announced: ‘Through the strong leadership of the Communist Party of China, the national strength of the country and the contribution of local officials, Xinjiang has been salvaged from the verge of massive turmoil. It has avoided the fate of becoming “China’s Syria” or “China’s Libya”’ (Global Times 2018). This Global Times piece also reproduced the official security approach propagated by the CCP that builds on traditional Confucian narratives of a ‘harmonious society’ (hexie shehui), and of stability and unity. On a rhetorical level, unity refers to the ‘ethnic unity’ that can be achieved by assimilating ethnic diversity into the Chinese nation project. However, the notion of unity refers to the fact that the security of the CCP itself and the political security of the nation-state are intertwined. This means that threats to the CCP are often presented as a threat to the PRC and its citizens (Vuori 2011, 232). With regard to the issue of ‘illegal’ immigration, this indicates that the CCP regards the public debate about cultural integration of its ethnic citizens and immigrants as a threat to its political stability.
‘Illegal’ immigrants as a threat to population security in China Although the Chinese immigration regime has been fundamentally reformed, the system leaves only few and increasingly regulated ways for foreigners to stay
‘Three evils’ and ‘three illegals’ 97 in the country. During the Mao era, China was an emigration state: the largest part of its migration consisted of Chinese citizens leaving the country, which was governed by a strict exit and entry administration regime that largely prohibited leaving the country and strictly controlled the entry of foreigners. In 1980, the first official law on visa regulation was issued with the Passport and Visa Regulations and the Law of Nationality. In the following years, this was further detailed. Chinese citizens and foreigners were largely separated through the strict monitoring of travel, limited residence in rural areas, and segregated shops and hotels which were run through a different currency system, using Foreign Exchange Certificates for foreigners that were valid between 1980 and 1994 (Bork-Hüffer and Yuan 2014, 575). Liu Guofu argues that this period was characterized by ambiguity, as the legislative process of immigration procedures was not institutionally unified. In addition, many subsidiary orders and regulations were enacted that were unpublished, hence creating a ‘bureaucratic barrier to immigration’ (Liu 2009, 317). In the years leading up to 2001, the immigration system was continuously reformed (1992, 1996, 2000), mainly facilitating the returnee process for Overseas Chinese. In 2001, two major developments impacted the Chinese immigration system and put comprehensive reforms in motion. First, immediate reform was stipulated when China entered the World Trade Organization (WTO), and second, the terrorist attacks on the World Trade Center on 9/11 globally changed the notion of national security and ultimately impacted the Chinese understanding of border security. Entering the WTO came with external demands to implement the rule of law and to facilitate emigration and immigration procedures. Further, authorities worked on reliable and transparent visa regulations for foreigners by introducing a new ‘invitation letter system’ for foreign visa applicants (Liu 2009, 318). China allowed the International Organization for Migration (IOM) to open a liaison office in Beijing in 2007 to strengthen international cooperation. In the negotiations prior to the adoption of the 2018 United Nations Global Compact for Migration (GCM), Beijing expressed its commitment to further ‘strengthen[ing] the global governance of migration’ and facilitating orderly and safe migration – however, under the premise of ‘upholding the principle of respect for national sovereignty’ (Li 2018). The latest addition to the national legislation was the Exit and Entry Administration Law (short EEL) that was adopted in 2012 by the National People’s Congress (NPC). This law does not establish a comprehensive immigration and asylum system but stipulates specific regulations concerning the immigration process, most notably concerning visa applications and permanent residence. The EEL regards ‘illegal entrance, illegal residence, and illegal work’ of foreigners as a crime. Punishable are the ‘illegal’ immigrants themselves (for illegally residing – from 500 CNY to 10,000 CNY, or 15 days in prison), their helpers (for false entry documentation or hiding them – 2,000–10,000 CNY), and their employers (5,000–20,000 CNY, or up to 15 days in prison). The EEL provides the legal grounds for denying visa applications, designed to ultimately keep ‘unwanted’ immigrants out, i.e., people who are considered a ‘threat’ to social order and political stability. Article 21 states that visa applications
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can be denied if the applicant was subject to deportation before, if s/he is psychologically ill or has infectious diseases, if s/he threatens public order or state interests, or if the necessary documents are either false or insufficient. The law states ‘other reasons’ as grounds for visa denial and that the processing authorities do not need to explain their decisions, which provides leeway for individual discretion. Article 81 regulates deportation procedures through the Ministry of Public Security (MoPS), which is responsible for the final decision. The local Public Security Bureaus issue identity documents and enforce deportation if necessary. ‘Illegal’ immigration occurs when foreigners enter the country, work, or have families without proper documentation or without the awareness of security authorities. Within the official Chinese discourse, there are different terms describing and differentiating between the forms of irregular immigration: illegal immigrant (feifa yimin), irregular migration (buhe guize de yimin), undocumented migration (wuzhengshi wenjiande yimin), and unauthorized migration (weijing xuke de yimin). Chinese academic discourse further applies terms with a deliberate negative connotation in regard to the potential criminal behaviour of legally entering immigrants who either overstay their visa or engage in smuggling or trafficking: human serpent (renshe) or plague (wenyi) (Guo 2012). With regard to the fear that underlies the allegations of irregular immigrants engaging in criminal activities, Robert Skeldon argued that China’s preparedness and fortification against unwanted and irregular immigration builds on a ‘deepseated fear’ of being overwhelmed and eventually suffering super-alienation. He argues that this fear is due to the popular belief that immigration is a cumulative process that always gives rise to more immigration (Skeldon 2000, 18). This fear, for example, has been shown in the rhetoric of Guo Shou, who warns that too many people immigrate in order to profit from the ‘Chinese gold rush’ (zhongguo taojin) which will attract people who are illegitimately looking for higher wages in China’s increasingly rich economy (Guo 2012, 141). This discourse targets low-skilled workers who supposedly cannot contribute to the Chinese economy but who are a burden to it. Low-skilled workers are the subjects of strict regulations on working permits for foreigners; whereas, ‘talent immigration’ is increasingly facilitated. While the ‘talent immigration’ schemes exclusively address high-skilled workers, the issue of low-skilled workers is largely omitted in the public discourse or is discussed in the context of ‘illegal’ immigration. In accordance with the EEL, ‘illegally’ working in China also constitutes one of the ‘three illegals’ that depict the core of the official Chinese discourse on ‘illegality’.4 This discourse emerged during the 1990s with regard to illegal Vietnamese wives in Yunnan (Deng and Jiang 1994), was applied to other immigrant groups in academic discourse (Guo 2012; Li 2012; Lu 2013; Luo 2012; Song 2015), and was eventually adopted by the media and in official language.5 The discourse has increasingly served as a legitimation strategy for police action against ‘illegal’ immigrants (Central Government News Portal 2012) since the establishment of the SIA in April 2018. The documented numbers of ‘illegal’ immigrants living or being detained in China vary widely. Song Quancheng estimated the number at 36,000 in 2006 (Song 2015). According to Liu Guofu, in
‘Three evils’ and ‘three illegals’ 99 2013, there were approximately 80,000 illegally employed foreigners in China, including 40,000 seasonally illegal foreigners who regularly return to their home countries (jijiexing feifa jiuye waiguoren) (Liu 2015, 48). In 2016, the number of detained ‘illegal’ immigrants totalled 5,533 according to the MoPS (Ministry of Public Security 2017). The sanfei discourse stigmatized different forms of disruptive behaviour as individual or collective disobedience directed against Chinese authorities. The discourse clearly differentiates illegal migration from wanted migration, labelling illegal immigrants as a threat to the ‘harmonious society’, to population security, and to the Chinese economy. It has also depicted illegal immigration as a ‘serious violation of China’s national sovereignty and damage to the dignity of our country’s laws’ (He 2008, 39). The underlying premise is that, as China’s social and economic development has been very successful over the past decades, ‘greedy’ foreigners want to come to China and try to free-ride on China’s economic success (Song 2015). Immigrants are supposedly responsible for ‘raping, stealing, and smuggling’ (Li 2012, 116). Moreover, the immigrants’ motives are considered to be aimed at ‘stealing the benefits of China’s development’, ‘begging at their relatives houses’, and ultimately ‘damaging the image of the border region for tourists and public opinion’ (ibid., 117). More generally, it is underscored with arguments about: rising crime numbers committed by illegal immigrants, how ‘hard’ it is to ‘manage and control them’ (nanyi dui qi zhuizong guanli), their ‘imported infectious diseases’ (yimin chuanranbing kongzhi kunnan), and how they pose a ‘hidden threat’ to public security (qianzai de weixie shehui zhi’an de zhongda yinhuan) (Guo 2012, 137f.). This particular discourse builds upon a joint racial perception of illegal immigrants as a ‘danger’ to society (weihangxing) who commit crimes and threaten the social order by participating in ‘mass incidents’ (quntixingshijia), such as in Guangzhou in July 2009 when police were met with public outrage after the death of several immigrants during raids.6 Tax evasion (Guo 2012, 137) or drug smuggling, weapons trade, and prostitution in the border area (He 2008, 40) are other issues associated with illegal immigration. Qiu Liben argues that, although China does not host many illegal immigrants, the ‘economic cost’ for China to legitimize a crackdown on illegal immigration was tremendous (Qiu 2005, 13). This discourse constitutes a central part of securitization as it directly links ‘illegality’ to criminal and harmful behaviour, disrupting the social and political order of the Chinese state. The ‘three illegals’ present a narrative that is rhetorically connected to CCP campaign language, such as the Three-Anti and the Five-Anti Campaigns under Mao Zedong (sanfan, wufan). By participating in ‘mass incidents’ that threaten public security, they are perceived as a kind of ‘social organization’ (Guo 2012, 137). In this way, they qualify as the subject of China’s regulation of mass organizations, making them a ‘class enemy’ that needs to be met with all available counter-measures (cf. Vuori 2008, 90). Hence, the sanfei slogan gains political and ideological legitimacy as it nominally is linked to central policies and ideas of the socialist state. Overall, it justifies extraordinary political means and warns that
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social stability is threatened. The sanfei narrative allowed public officials to raise the issue of illegal immigration to the official agenda by claiming that this group is to be considered as ‘dangerous’. The narrative also serves as a basis for legitimating future acts, such as police operations against the homes of illegal immigrants and discriminatory and nontransparent immigration procedures (Huang 2018). The generalized criminalization of illegal foreigners through this label has translated into concrete political action, such as in 2012 in Beijing, when a 100-day campaign (bairi zhuangxiang xingdong) specifically targeted this group: Local authorities and the police encouraged citizens to report on illegal foreigners so that they could be repatriated, as they, allegedly, had become a salient ‘problem’ for local neighbourhoods (Central Government News Portal 2012). In this way, the perception of illegal immigrants as a ‘threat’ to Chinese citizens’ physical well-being and the social harmony of the overall Chinese society is being disseminated. The narrative helps to alarm Chinese citizens and induces them to report known ‘illegal’ individuals to the authorities, making them useful instruments of official policy enforcement. The Kokang border ‘incidents’, comprised violent conflicts with Myanmar militias at the Sino-Myanmar border and which resulted in refugees seeking asylum in China, further added to the discourse on ‘begging foreigners’ (Li 2012, 117). The public discourse on marriage migration shows a similar discriminatory pattern. Although these marriages are quite common, the women often do not have legal documentation when marrying a Chinese husband (Gu 2011). Because it is almost always women being married to Chinese men, either voluntarily by professional marriage agencies or forcefully by human traffickers, this is also a gendered discourse. Due to the lack of legal documentation and recognition, the ‘foreign wives’ are often perceived as ‘prostitutes’ ‘lowering the quality of Chinese society’. They continue to be perceived as ‘foreigners’ even if they work, bear children, and live in China their whole adult lives (Barabantseva 2015b, 356– 364). Barabantseva (2015a) shows how the meaning of ‘illegality’ when referring to ethnic marriages in the Chinese–Vietnamese border area changed from ‘normal’ or ‘customary’ (shishi) to ‘illegal’ (feifa). These discursive practices also impacted the ways local governments enforced immigration control, e.g., by raising their efforts to repatriate these ‘illegal wives’. Overall, this results in stricter border and population control that Barabantseva characterizes as an increasing institutionalization of the Chinese border that came along with the evolving sanfei discourse in the early 2000s. She argues that before the 2000s, ‘ethnic common marriages were not widely reported outside of their immediate border area’ while the undocumented women were welcome labour, filling a demographic gap in the border areas (Barabantseva 2015b, 357). In many cases, the children of these undocumented marriages were provided with household registrations (hukou) after the population census in 2000 (ibid.). However, the ethnic cross-border marriages were officially documented not by national state authorities but only by local officials granting documentation on an individual basis. Barabantseva argues that although the undocumented marriages and spouses go largely unprosecuted, the general discourse on ‘population quality’ (renkou suzhi)7 defames these ‘foreign wives’ as being of ‘low quality’ and posing a ‘threat’ to the Chinese society
‘Three evils’ and ‘three illegals’ 101 as the ‘marriage causes a “fragmentation of Chinese identity”’ (ibid., 362). The Chinese–Vietnamese border ‘produces illegality as a condition for the border’s effective functioning’ as the Vietnamese foreign wives are needed in the local labour market and as care-takers within Chinese society (Barabantseva 2015a, 58; 74). Her interviews with villagers also show how subjective the perception of ‘illegality’ is when she writes that an older villager perceives older women as ‘Chinese’ and younger women as ‘illegal’ (ibid., 66). She also states that it has become a sensitive issue for local officials to define too many marriages as illegal. If the statistics on these marriages would reflect that too many ‘foreign wives’ are being repatriated, it would prove that their prohibitive approach has not been successful (ibid., 71). This way, terming a certain marriage or person as ‘illegal’ has become a security-relevant issue for local officials as the decision could create wider discontent among the local population and lead to possible unrest. Her research shows how the sanfei discourse informs discursive practices of disparaging the foreign wives, while at the same time, state authorities did not render them as ‘threatening’ enough to improve their surveillance through increased registration or the population census. In the past five years, however, the surveillance of ‘foreign wives’ has steadily increased. The All-China Women’s Federation (ACWF) has been appointed to survey their living situations and evaluate policy measures. During the population census, the ACWF conducted several rounds of interviews in border towns, identifying the status and living situations of these women (author’s interview on 3 August 2016, Shen 2016). The ACWF, as a quasi-state organization, is not part of the ministerial structure but works under the ‘supervision’ of the CCP Central Committee, acting as a non-governmental organization in legal terms (Jin 2001, 126f.). Put differently, the control and surveillance of foreign wives has been outsourced from ‘traditional’ immigration control by specialized agents to a semi-governmental organization officially responsible for protecting women’s interests. Although increasing surveillance appears to be a step towards securitization of this group, delegating the issue to the ACWF locates the issue within the purview of official women’s policy, which falls under ‘normal’ politics, indicating a move towards de-securitization. The management of ‘foreign wives’, however, does not translate into the wider discourse on ‘illegal’ migrants because it is comparatively easy: first, immigration of foreign wives is (largely) bound to the border area, making it a local problem; and second, the number of these women is relatively limited. In 2013 only 1,154 women were reported as ‘Vietnamese foreign wives’, compared to the abovementioned 80,000 ‘illegals’ (Song 2015). Also in the border area, some local governments deploy strategies of legalization for immigrants who illegally reside or work in the area. As part of their responsibility to provide social stability within their prefecture or township, local cadres have established mechanisms to quasi legalize ‘illegal’ immigrants. In Ruili, Dehong Prefecture, in Yunnan, the city government established a service centre, providing work permits for Myanmar immigrants that already are employed by Chinese companies in the area (author’s interview on 5 August 2016). A work permit is provided if the immigrant is proven to be healthy (no HIV infection) and does not plan to stay long-term. It does not serve as an identification document or
102 Franziska Plümmer visa, but only allows the immigrant to stay and work locally rather than to travel further into Chinese territory. Another attempt to legalize de facto immigrants addresses the ‘foreign wives’. Some localities issue so-called Blue Cards (lanka) that register marriages, allowing the wives to benefit from rural cooperative medical care and other public health and welfare services (Shen 2011). These local practices constitute exceptions from the immigration legislation; however, they are in accordance with state law and fall within the scope of preferential policies aiming at integrating both sides of the border economically. In this sense, the locally implemented legalization strategy manifests a zoning approach by the government, institutionalizing ‘graduated illegality’. Moreover, such legislation constitutes a counter-move to the securitizing discourse and shows how differently government branches practice the discourse on illegality. Importantly, this cannot be understood as resistance to the official discourse but is a result of the decentralized immigration regime, which is inherent in the Chinese political system and provides leeway to local governments. In the case of Dehong Prefecture, local officials have decided to acknowledge that it is impossible to effectively close the border; rather, they have creatively managed the ‘illegal’ population that lives and works at their doorstep. Instead of securitizing illegal immigrants, they co-opted their work force. This example shows how locally diverse the immigration regime works. While the central government applies strategies of prevention and tight control, local governments selectively implement policies that help them to manage the local population, regardless of their status, by adopting a strategy of selective and limited inclusion. To sum up, ‘illegality’ in China is a politically constructed category that is addressed as an offence against existing immigration schemes. The term ‘illegal’ does not have juridical or political status as the immigrants often enter the country legally, and are awaiting their working or residence permits. In this sense, the ‘illegality’ discourse rather refers to a ‘perceived illegality’. The status is largely symbolic, building on the sanfei narrative – illegally entering, residing, and working – which permeates official and academic discourse and translates into practices of police and border security enforcement. While the sanfei narrative is not set in (legal) stone, nor does it constitute a policy; it serves as a discursive strategy for securitizing ‘illegal’ immigration by linking it to criminal behaviour that harms the Chinese society and economy. Measures taken against unwanted immigration involve a denial of visa and residence permits and criminal prosecution of illegally entering, working, or residing foreigners, which can result in the payment of fines, imprisonment, or repatriation. At the local level, however, practices of differentiated legalization of ‘illegal’ immigration constitute exceptions from the official policy of zero-tolerance, creating a graduated practice of citizenship towards ‘illegal’ immigrants.
‘Illegal’ immigrants as a threat against regional security Although China’s domestic sanfei discourse does not rhetorically distinguish among types of ‘illegal’ immigration, local immigration practices are graduated as shown above. Locally, immigrants are legalized in some locations
‘Three evils’ and ‘three illegals’ 103 according to how ‘valuable’ they are for their local community. Within the Shanghai Cooperation Organization (SCO), however, the ‘three evils’ discourse does not speak of ‘illegal’ immigration – neither discursively nor with regard to its practices – but associates ‘illegal immigrants’ with ‘terrorists’. Yet, the ‘three evils’ discourse shows semantic similarities with the ‘three illegals’ campaign slogan and further shows how internal and external border security has become entwined from the perspective of the Chinese government, as the discourse has constructed a ‘joint enemy’ of the neighbouring states in Central Asia. This ‘joint enemy’ – the ‘illegal immigrant’ – serves as legitimation for the strict population control imposed in China’s western region of Xinjiang, including selective travel bans, identity control, and increased surveillance. This construction, however, not only targets foreigners who are supposedly ‘illegal immigrants’ or ‘outside agitators’ but also results in broader population control measures built on a fundamental mistrust of the ‘ethnic’ Uighur population that is allegedly vulnerable to ‘foreign influence’. For China, immigration control and counter-terrorism are closely intertwined in the governance of ethnic autonomy in the western Xinjiang Province. Chinese security actors have increasingly strictly controlled the province: the government has increased the hiring of police and border control personnel to build up a ‘zero-distance service’,8 stationed low-skilled foot-soldiers in and around police stations, and installed high-tech equipment connected to extensive information processing systems which have enhanced the Party state’s surveillance capabilities (Zenz and Leibold 2017). As ethnic Uighurs are particularly targeted, reports have shown discriminatory practices of policing and imprisonment in so-called re-education camps (Zenz 2018), the banning of religious symbols in public, such as veils and beards (South China Morning Post 2017), and the prohibition of the Uighur language in schools in some prefectures (Radio Free Asia 2017a). The increased control has also reached local cross-border communities: authorities have retained passports and border passes (bianminzheng) of people who have family across the border (Radio Free Asia 2017b) and imposed travel bans on people whose everyday life involves studying or working across the border. Also, foreigners are prohibited from visiting the province without first obtaining a special visa. Here, the Chinese strategy appears to follow the ‘myth of mastering the frontiers’, trying to close the border against unwanted mobility and immigration through military means. However, the government acknowledges that the current heightened security situation is both extraordinary and temporary, stating that ‘it’s a phase that Xinjiang has to go through in rebuilding peace and prosperity and it will transition to normal governance’ (Global Times 2018). The Chinese government and media blame the social instability of the region on ‘foreign influence’ and ‘outside agitators’ (Ibid.). Barbour and Jones show how the Chinese media discourse after the ‘riots’ on July 5, 2009, was dominated by representational tropes of ‘criminals’, ‘terrorists’, and ‘outside agitators’ (Barbour and Jones 2013). The authors identify Nur Bekri, the former regional governor in Xinjiang (2008–2014), as a key agent in constructing this discourse. Nur Bekri stated that ‘the violence is a pre-empted, organized violent crime. It is instigated
104 Franziska Plümmer and directed from abroad, and carried out by outlaws in the country’ (People’s Daily 2009). By linking the local insurgents to international terrorism, the East Turkistan Islamic Movement, and Uighur separatism, the domestic issue of social stability becomes associated with regional security. Hence, Chinese authorities have constructed an ‘outside enemy’ which threatens social stability in Xinjiang. Similarly, Wayne argues that Chinese authorities have depicted insurgencies, such as the ‘terror attacks’ in Kunming in 2009 and Beijing in 2013, as resulting from ‘foreign influence’, which is similar to the discourse on ‘Western elements’ during the 1990s and on ‘Islamist forces’ in the 2000s (Wayne 2008, 23). This discursive link is further institutionalized in China’s engagement within the Shanghai Cooperation Organization (SCO). Starting at the end of the Cold War, the SCO was an attempt to shape the regional order in Central Asia. Then, the SCO included the original five member countries – China, Russia, Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, and Tajikistan, Uzbekistan joined in 2001, and after some years as observers, India and Pakistan gained full member status in 2017. In 2001, the member states signed the Shanghai Convention on Combating Terrorism, Separatism, and Extremism. These terms were later coined the three ‘evil forces’– ethnic separatism, religious extremism, and international terrorism. The SCO agreed to cooperate on cross-border and non-traditional security issues such as ‘ethnic separatism, terrorism, illicit arms and drug trafficking, illegal migration and other transnational crimes’ (Yuan 2010, 857). The SCO provides a framework for joint military operations, confidence-building measures in the border areas, and a platform for joint counter-terrorism activities. In 2002, the SCO members signed the Agreement on a Regional Anti-Terrorist Agency, and since 2003 they have engaged in joint anti-terrorist drills. In 2004 they initiated a Regional Antiterrorism Structure (RATS) that organizes joint trainings and expert meetings. Within the discursive process to securitize the ‘three evil forces’, China took a central role due to its strong position within the SCO (Cui and Li 2011, 150). Cui and Li argue that ‘if China wanted a full securitization over the “three forces” and the “East Turkistan” separatist movements, it was well placed to turn the context of global war on terrorism to its own advantage’ (ibid., 151). The securitization process was facilitated by the onset of the ‘global war on terror’ after 9/11, a ‘relative paucity of democracies in Asia’, and weak civil society capacity to engage in public contestation against unwanted securitization (Acharya 2006, 250). Similar semantic references can also be found in the discursive shift towards non-traditional security issues in China’s New Security Concept (NSC). The NSC was officially introduced by the Chinese government in 1996 after the initiation of the Shanghai Five, which was the predecessor of the SCO. The NSC security discourse focused on ‘uncontrolled population growth, disparities in economic opportunities, migration pressures, environmental degradation, drug trafficking, epidemics, and international terrorism’ (Vuori 2011, 231). Moreover, in the ‘2002 White Paper on Enhanced Cooperation in the Field of Non-Traditional Security Issues’, terrorism and ‘illegal’ migration were prominently mentioned as ‘new feature[s] of the international and regional security environment’ (Ministry of Foreign Affairs PRC 2002). Regional security, thus, has become an integral part
‘Three evils’ and ‘three illegals’ 105 of the Chinese notion of national security. Moreover, the Chinese academic discourse links the rise of non-traditional security issues to an increasing similarity between internal and external threats. Xu and Liang argue that ‘traditional’ and ‘non-traditional’ security issues have become increasingly intertwined and that the security perception (the perception of the audience) has become much more relevant to national security: ‘The state of harmony is dependent on the “safety perception” (anquan renzhi) of the individual and the “safety identity” (anquan rentong) of the society’ (Xu and Liang 2012, 50). Similarly, Li Minlun argues that responsibilities in securing the border have gradually shifted from border guards to the administrative organs of the central government and border provinces (Li 2009, 46f.), constituting a case of ‘distant policing’. In this sense, he argues that the SCO is the ‘epitome of the evolution of the connotation of border security’ (Shanghai wuguo shi bianjing anquan neihan yanhua guocheng de suoying, ibid., 48), meaning that the organization has facilitated the safeguarding against internal and external threats. From an official Chinese perspective, the ‘three evils’ narrative, thus, combines domestic threats with regional security imperatives. Consequently, the differentiation between external and internal enemies has eroded. Moreover, the discursive link between ‘illegal’ immigration and terrorists has evolved from a lack of differentiation among threats. The goals of the SCO in terms of security are defined in the 2002 Charter: joint combating terrorism, separatism and extremism in all their manifestations, fighting against illicit narcotics and arms trafficking and other types of transnational criminal activity, and also illegal migration. Similarly, the 2005 Astana Declaration by the Heads of the Member States reads: It is important for the SCO, as part of its fight against international terrorism, to resolve problems related to elimination of its resource base, especially through actions to combat illicit trafficking in weapons, ammunition, explosives and drugs, organized cross-border crime, illegal migration and mercenary operations. And the Development Strategy of the SCO until 2025 that was issued in 2015 reads: The SCO priorities in ensuring regional security and stability will continue to include combating terrorism, separatism, extremism, trafficking in drugs, weapons, ammunition and explosives, nuclear and radioactive materials, as well as other components of WMD, transnational organized crime, ensuring international information security, strengthening border security, joint struggle against illegal migration and human trafficking, money laundering, economic crimes and corruption.
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While this is prominently stated and continuously repeated in official documents, the organization omits further details on what ‘illegal’ immigration entails, what regular immigration among the member countries would look like, and how it could be regulated. Rather, ‘illegal’ immigration is listed as one of the many threats that the SCO has identified as central to regional security, placing it on the same level as terrorism and mercenary operations. Partly, the reason why the organization avoids this issue lies in the ‘bilateral delicacy’ between Russia and China as the two countries have no mechanism of jointly managing ‘illegal’ Chinese immigration into Russian territory (Bailes et al. 2007, 39). Further, the SCO does not address the regional labour migration flows which stem from growing regional markets and China’s Belt & Road Initiative (Muttarak 2017). This points to China’s efforts to unilaterally determine the conditions for Chinese workers going abroad to manage BRI projects. Although the SCO does not constitute an immigration regime, the organization issued several agreements that affect or are a premise to joint mobility regulations, such as cooperation on customs regulations (2007 Agreement on Cooperation and Mutual Assistance in Customs Affairs), an agreement to cultural exchange including travel assistance for artists (2007 Agreement on Cooperation in Culture), the establishment of transportation corridors that also would facilitate long-distance travelling (2013 Joint Statement by the Heads of Government of the Member States of the SCO on Future Development of Cooperation in Transport), and tourism cooperation, including ‘creating favourable conditions for citizens of the SCO member states to travel to other SCO countries’ (2016 Programme for Expanded Tourism Cooperation). Despite these agreements, the SCO does not address immigration but subsumes ‘illegal’ immigration in a list of abstract security threats. Hence, immigration is taken out of the realm of ‘normal’ politics within the SCO: It remains widely unregulated yet strictly controlled by the member states and highly securitized with regard to ‘illegal’ immigration. As shown above, with the SCO failing to distinguish ‘illegal’ immigration from terrorism while China merges the regional discourse into domestic politics, the securitization perspective has also reflected on the role of the nation-state within security communities. With regard to the interdependence of domestic, regional, and international security regimes, Wæver and Buzan (2003) tried to map Regional Security Complexes (RSC) around the world that ascribe to regionspecific security concepts and reflect the role of individual states in constituting regional security and its global perception. They define RSCs as a ‘a set of units whose major processes of securitisation, de-securitisation, or both are so interlinked that their security problems cannot reasonably be analysed or resolved apart from one another’ (ibid., 44). For the East Asian Security Community, they argue that regional security cannot be understood without accounting for domestic factors (such as China’s global ambition) and international security issues (such as migration becoming a transnational security issue); however, sub-national politics and interregional security interactions are also important in understanding the development of regional security interdependencies. To them, RSC are not ‘socially constructed regions’ but ‘contingent on the security practices of the actors’ (ibid., 48). While the RSC theory is rather abstract and ‘sketchy’ (Curley
‘Three evils’ and ‘three illegals’ 107 2008, 24), it helps to understand the interaction between Chinese sub-national and national politics with regard to regional security. Although the SCO itself does not qualify as having agency within a security community, it is the institutional result of intensifying interregional and state-to-state security interdependence with highly contingent security practices against ‘unwanted mobilities’. Moreover, the SCO discourse represents how member states want their security narrative to be perceived globally. With regard to immigration, the interdependent securitization process of ‘illegal’ immigration between the Chinese domestic and regional security discourses indicates that China translates its perceived ‘vulnerability’ in Xinjiang as a structural threat within the SCO. The image of a ‘joint enemy’ represents a collective security narrative that is regionally and globally well-known and is approved by domestic and international audiences, legitimizing the comprehensive crackdown on potentially dangerous persons domestically as well. Overall, both the sanfei discourse and the ‘three evils’ discourse facilitate the quasi-permanent state of emergency. In Yunnan, local governments have explored creative strategies of de-securitizing ‘illegal’ immigrants in order to integrate them into local labour markets. In Xinjiang, ‘illegal’ immigration is aligned with other external threats, such as transnational Islamic terrorism and ‘outside agitators’. This results in local practices of fundamentally prohibiting any sort of ‘illegal’ immigration and prohibits local exceptions or solutions to de facto immigration and border mobility. The ‘unstable’ Xinjiang situation in turn feeds into the sanfei and ‘three evils’ discourses as the situation legitimizes the existing security apparatus and practices (Table 5.1). Table 5.1 Securitization of sanfei and ‘Three Evils’ discourses. Sanfei
Three Evils
Securitizing actor Chinese government (CCP and security field), academia
SCO member countries
Speech acts found Chinese public policy, academic in publications, and media
SCO joint and member statements, agreements
Security speech
‘Illegal’ immigrants as criminals, danger ‘Illegal’ immigrants as to population security and the Chinese terrorists, economy ‘joint enemy’
Discursive practices
• Definition through the Exit and Entry • Missing regular migration among Law of the PRC member countries • Manifestation through the establishment of the State Immigration • RATS, growing joint security apparatus to Administration combat terrorism • Criminal prosecution of ‘illegals’ with a growing security apparatus
Functions of securitization Counter-move
control
control
De-securitization through limited legalization by local governments
None
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Conclusion Unregulated flows of migration intersect with governments’ concerns over sovereignty and territoriality, as the physical act of crossing borders illegally poses a challenge to a state’s ability to secure its borders and consequently, to control its population. The perceived threat of ‘illegals’ violating a state’s sovereignty, however, depends on the given political system and society. While in some cases, policymakers respond to public demands on letting the immigrants in, as they are fleeing violent conflicts, other discourses have evolved around mistrust and fear against immigrants taking away the jobs of citizens, being involved in criminal activities, or being rapists or terrorists. After 9/11, ‘illegal’ and undocumented migration has been securitized around the world, spilling into different policy fields, such as migration control, refugee policies, criminal justice and law enforcement, humanitarian action, and economic and education policies. In China, ‘illegal’ immigration has become a meta-issue within the public discourse on immigration. This meta-issue traverses different discourses, connecting threat perceptions domestically and regionally. The ‘illegal’ immigrant has become a ‘social enemy’, as a threat to social stability, population security, and the Chinese economy. They have been equated with terrorists within the SCO discourse. Regional integration within Central Asia has made a distinct contribution to this development. It has directly securitized ‘illegal’ immigration as a joint threat to regional security by integrating the different national security spheres into the ‘three evils’ narrative. The struggle of providing stability in Xinjiang in the context of transnational Islamic terrorism further legitimizes both the SCO discourse and the domestic discourse on a coercive crackdown against ‘illegal’ immigration. Domestically, ‘illegal’ immigration underwent a negative politicization, often connected to security-related problems such as crime and riots in cities, social instability, transnational crime, and welfare fraud. Utilizing this threat perception, Chinese security actors have treated ‘illegal’ immigrants as criminals during police raids, bolstered by an increasingly regulated immigration regime. The Chinese sanfei discourse, or more specifically, its discursive practices, however, differentiates between various types of ‘illegal’ immigrants. On the one hand, the discourse securitizes ‘illegal’ immigration as a threat to population security (foreign wives), social stability (‘gold diggers’ and ‘criminals’), and as a ‘problem for local neighbourhoods’. This securitization functions as a strategy of control, undertaken by the central government to construct a ‘social enemy’ that has helped to legitimize a comprehensive security apparatus. The newly established State Immigration Administration embodies the transformation of ‘regular’ immigration policy in security issues, as it needs to be governed centrally. On the other hand, local governments have found creative ways to apply strategies for the legalization of the same group, as these immigrants are economically important for the local communities. In those localities, ‘illegal’ immigrants are offered limited access to social security and labour markets. Still, this practice does not provide access to Chinese citizenship. Consequently, the ‘illegal’ immigrant in
‘Three evils’ and ‘three illegals’ 109 China is not a coherent but a graduated category of non-citizenship that allows for differentiated treatment according to local conditions. Hence, although the Chinese state increasingly centralizes immigration regulation, overall, immigration governance is decentralized. The securitization of ‘illegal immigration’ has entailed the allocation of special resources within the SCO and the Chinese government (pertaining to law and security enforcement); it has also resulted in new immigration laws regulating ‘legal’ and ‘illegal’ immigration, which purposefully ignore vital parts of local policy practices. Finally, the securitization of ‘illegal immigration’ has led to a severe militarization of Xinjiang Province, as it is most exposed to ‘outside agitators’. Overall, the category of ‘illegal’ immigration appears as being ambivalent in the complex field of domestic and regional security discourses and local practices. The above analysis of the speech acts and security language concerning the subject, however, allows for a differentiated view on the mechanisms of securitization. It shows how the Chinese immigration regime draws on these different discourses to legitimize its approach. Legal pathways to immigration follow a merit-based rationality that prohibits larger immigration influx by categorizing immigrants according to their level of education and income. The discursive link between criminal behaviour and ‘illegal’ immigration justifies strictly regulated immigration and, thus, is vital to the legitimation of the larger immigration system. As mentioned above, successful securitization is facilitated by ‘regional autonomy and uneven policy impact’ (Curley 2008, 28). Xinjiang’s geographic location in China’s western periphery plays an important role in the perceived vulnerability of the region. Moreover, the graduated approach of the regime allows for differentiated management of ‘illegal’ immigrants, producing an ‘uneven policy impact’. Lastly, although Chinese immigration governance increasingly provides for legal labour immigration, including limited access to social security and family reunions, the gap between the legal status of regular and irregular immigrants has widened. The question remains as to whether managing immigration would be more effective if, instead of increasing its security apparatus and repertoire against ‘illegals’, the Chinese state would provide new and easier immigration channels to foreigners.
Notes 1 Chinese political discourse is part of the ideological propaganda of the authoritarian state. The academic discourse plays an important role in the overall use of official language: academics might exaggerate at times in order to be heard by policymakers. For officials, it is a tool for social impact, and for the masses it is transformational, legitimizing, and delegitimizing a course of action (Kluver 1996, 132). 2 As Curley and Wong (2008) emphasize, this process on how a certain issue becomes securitized is highly dependent on the political context and how the security speech is perceived by a given society. In their book, they compare different cases of securitization of human trafficking and unregulated migration in Asia, asking: what specifically is constructed as an ‘existential threat’ (issue area), who securitizes (securitizing actors), what security concepts underlie the process, what is the internal process of the securitization, what are the outcomes (resource allocation trends, military involve-
110 3 4 5 6 7
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ment, legislation, institutionalization) and discursive practices, and what resistance or de-securitization moves can be identified (Curley and Wong 2008b, 5f.)? See Curley and Wong (2008) on the securitization of human trafficking in Asia. A different term is sanwu that refers to immigrants not having work or not obtaining identification documents or working permits (He 2008, 37). No matter how prominent these academic contributions are, there are also many studies emphasizing the need for more humanitarian immigration (including refugee immigration) into China (Hao 2017; Li 2015). During a police raid in 2009, one Nigerian immigrant died while fleeing from the police. This incident resulted in hundreds of African migrants protesting and surrounding police stations (Branigan 2009). This is similar to the stigmatization of migrant workers (floating migration) in Chinese cities during the 1990s as ‘second-class citizens’ and a source of crime. The ‘threat’ of domestic Chinese migration was targeted by a strategic discursive shift from ‘low quality migrant’ to ‘productive citizen’ that came along with neoliberal policies of labour rights and responsibilities (Jeffreys and Sigley 2009, 15). Zero-distance service means that police stations or patrols are at every corner and in every public place so that citizens can approach them from zero distance.
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6
Migration governance at the Sino-Russian border Anastasiya Bayok
Introduction In the present globalized and interconnected world, which gradually becomes borderless, governments try to impose ever-stricter control over their state’s borders (IOM 2017), and, in the absence of institutionalized international migration governance, they keep tackling migration-related issues bilaterally and through regional fora (Angenendt & Koch 2017: 85). Migration cooperation between China and Russia in their border areas1 is characterized by a relatively institutionalized regime of migration governance with functioning mechanisms built on bilateral agreements. Cross-border activities and bilateral economic and cultural cooperation mechanisms provide a framework for migration governance mechanisms, whereas migration between the two states further activates comprehensive cross-border exchange and promotes the establishment of a network of exchanges in trade, culture, tourism, and science (Wang 2017: 62; Ponkratova 2015). In the China–Russia context, ‘migration’ is used in its broad sense, meaning temporary or permanent movement of people from one place to another.2 Furthermore, as the case studies below demonstrate, migration is mainly motivated by economic factors, most notably a state’s attractiveness for making business profits and improvement of individual living standards. Despite the above-mentioned institutionalization at the state level, on the local level and in everyday practices we observe a specific form of norm diffusion in Sino-Russian border migration, i.e., an adjustment of migration practices, which then turn out to become norms, in China as a response to changes in Russian official migration policies and norms. This diffusion process at the border area is time and context specific and is being socially and culturally validated, or at least tolerated, on the local level in both states. In this chapter3 I focus on mechanisms and practices of migration governance between Russia and China in their border areas and analyze a specific diffusion process of trade-related migration norms. The case of migration at the SinoRussian border is not a standard case of norm diffusion from the international to the domestic level, nor is it a direct transfer and adaptation of norms on the interstate level. It is a more sophisticated diffusion process in which new norms and rules, which impede migration to Russia from China as well as the shuttle
116 Anastasiya Bayok trade on the border between the two states, are being introduced by Moscow. The actual implementation of these norms in practice, however, triggers adjustment of policies in China. Private and local actors in China in pursuit of their economic benefits need to adjust their behaviour and practices in migration-related activities and trans-border trade with Russia. The adjustment of old practices and introduction of the new ones on the local level in China create new patterns of individual behaviour which then become socially recognized norms. I characterize this chain of reactions, behavioural adjustments, and establishment of new norms on the local and private level in China as a process of norm diffusion. Norms diffuse from Russia to China through the processes of internalization of social practices. They get adjusted to local realities and are adapted by local actors in China as a response to Russia’s policy changes in migration governance across the border. Hence, I stress the societal aspect of norms as patterns of behaviour which shape and are themselves being shaped by interests. They motivate actions without determining concrete outcomes (Björkdahl 2002). On the one hand, norms depend on a certain social context and identity. Cultural practices and traditions within such social contexts explain the origin of norms by forming expectations and experiences (Wiener 2009; Björkdahl 2002). In the case of the Russian– Chinese border region, I call such social contexts with culturally formed practices and behavioural traditions a shared life-world. I define a shared life-world as a historically and socially constructed transnational realm, inhabitants of which have shared identities of border dwellers and identify, create, and adjust norms in accordance with their everyday experiences.4 A shared life-world in the border region between Russia and China not just facilitates formation of norms but also creates conditions for norm diffusion processes. I thus view diffusion as a process and not just as an outcome,5 i.e., a process leading to adaptation and learning, resulting in the adjustment of migration practices and norms in one state (China) as a response to new practices and norms in another (Russia). On the other hand, official interstate agreements, conventions, and treaties signed at major historical ‘choice’ points indicate deep-rooted motivations and highlight the origin (Wiener 2009) and institutionalization of norms. That is to say, official interactions at the state level, and interstate agreements as a direct outcome, form and institutionalize bilateral migration norms and migration governance. The actual implementation of migration governance takes place at the local level within a shared life-world, where Chinese local and private actors contribute to the diffusion and formation of new norms. In other words, the norm diffusion process on the Sino-Russian border is possible due to two important conditions: firstly, the institutionalization of cooperation and migration governance on the intergovernmental level, and secondly, the facilitation of its implementation on the local level within a shared life-world. The first condition has created an institutional framework for migration governance in the border area and institutionalized bilateral migration norms. The second one is mostly important from the perspective of a shared life-world, a historically established societal formation with recognized patterns of behaviour and norms, which is a suitable environment for norm diffusion and the establishment of new norms.
The Sino-Russian border
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I start by presenting what I understand about norms and their diffusion in this chapter from a theoretical perspective. To support my argument with empirical evidence, I introduce Sino-Russian cooperation in the border area and discuss concrete institutional mechanisms of border migration governance, as the first condition necessary for the diffusion process. I proceed by examining processes of formation of a life-world, which enables the above-mentioned norm diffusion in migration practices at the Sino-Russian border, as a second important condition of the diffusion process. I conclude the chapter by summarizing the most important facts about the Sino-Russian migration governance.
Norms and their diffusion processes at the Sino-Russian border Norms are defined differently. From a rationalist perspective, norms are viewed as behaviour and its regularity and consistency. These regularities in behaviour explain the formation of norms. In this regard, traditions play a crucial role, i.e., over time ritualized and codified behaviour becomes a norm (Björkdahl 2002). Constructivists consider norms as ‘as a set of intersubjective understandings and collective expectations regarding the proper behaviour of states and other actors in a given context or identity’ (Björkdahl 2002: 15). Put differently, norms can be viewed as ‘entailing a structuring (regulative and constitutive) quality identified as standards or reference frames for behaviour, on the one hand, and a constructed (evaluative or practice-based) quality generated by socio-culturally embedded practices, on the other’ (Wiener 2007: 63). At the same time, both rationalists and constructivists agree on the defining role of behaviour in a given social context. Thus, norms are often regarded as patterns of behaviour which can evolve from just one precedent of behaviour (Björkdahl 2002). Generally speaking, norms regulate, constitute, or enable actors’ behaviour in their environments. In this regard we should distinguish between regulative and constitutive norms. Regulative norms prescribe behaviour; they set rights and obligations for certain behaviours of actors with predefined identities. These norms play the role of road maps and by these means influence policy. They gain their further importance when they provide alternative strategies for the actors to reach their goals. Regulative norms enable processes necessary for mutually beneficial outcomes of cooperation, while constitutive norms ‘create new actors, interests or categories of action’ (Björkdahl 2002: 16). Another important attribute of norms is that they are directly related to collective identities and interconnected with self-interests, which are, themselves, informed by norms. With time, constitutive and regulative norms, through the process of institutionalization in everyday practices and interactions within international communities, transform into practical norms. These practical norms, besides directing actors’ behaviour, also provide alternative choices for actions by focusing on commonly accepted ‘best practices’ and ‘best solutions’ (Björkdahl 2002: 16). Norms and social practices are mutually interconnected. Social practices have the double function of serving as a norm’s origin and a driving force for a norm’s evolution. Norms find their origin in social contexts with pre-existing institutions
118 Anastasiya Bayok and cultural knowledge. They form and develop not in a normative vacuum but within the existing normative context and social practices. In the case of Russian– Chinese migration governance, as it will be demonstrated in more detail below, this normative context and these social practices were established and institutionalized through the treaties and agreements reached on the interstate level, bilaterally. Norms’ origins are often described through the logic of demand-driven processes, when norms form as responses to needs or demands quite often to catalyze cooperation in a mixed motive setting, and supply-driven ones, when norms originate from new ideas which become available for actors (Björkdahl 2002: 18). Following the improvement of Sino-Russian bilateral political and economic relations and increased migration in the border area since the 1990s, state and nonstate actors in both states had a demand for the intensification of trade relations and increase in revenues. Demand- and supply-driven processes were and remain well balanced in this case: Russia’s growing demand for labour has been satisfied through increased labour immigration from China, while Chinese demand for raw materials has been satisfied through Russian supplies. This economic interdependence led to intensified cooperation and simultaneously to a need to institutionalize it through agreements and treaties, which formed and institutionalized bilateral migration norms. A shared life-world at the Sino-Russian border provides a vivid example of the above-mentioned link between norms and social practices. Economic interdependence, the essence of Russian–Chinese cross-border interactions, also largely contributes to the formation of a shared life-world, which facilitates norm diffusion processes. Diffusion takes place not only internationally among nationstates but also domestically within one state. This means that national as well as local governments, as well as various public and private actors, are important units of diffusion, whereas diffusion is not being limited to specific policies but incorporates the spread of instruments, standards, policy modes, ideational frameworks, norms, etc.6 In transnational arenas, such as border areas, norms can be (re-)constructed, contested, and mediated through individual interactions and cultural representations, or cultural validation, whereas ‘culture includes shifting and changing groups … which are not bound to a particular constitutionalized political community, nor to the limited institutions of one particular society’ (Wiener 2007: 63). Since norms originate from everyday practices, their social dimensions are directly linked to the context in which they exist, which suggests that ‘norms and practices are mutually constitutive’ (Wiener 2007: 64). All of these are the attributes of a shared life-world at the Sino-Russian border which explain how norms, translated into another context, get a new connotation and implementation, complementary to the local context. In this regard, new Russian official policies on restricting immigration to Russia from China and shuttle trade between the Chinese and Russian citizens in the border area become legal and validated societal and cultural norms for the Russian citizens, diffuse through the Sino-Russian border, undergo a process of learning, and lead to the formation of new norms on the Chinese side of the border region – i.e., Chinese local and private actors in pursuit of economic benefits
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need to introduce new patterns of behaviour, as, for example, hiring Russian citizens and organizing them in groups to preserve the existing cooperation, i.e., establishing grey trade channels7 (Ioffe & Ryzhova 2009: 361). With time, this behaviour is institutionalized in the form of norms. In other words, on the local and individual level, norm diffusion manifests itself as a change in the behaviour and practices of Chinese local authorities and individual actors, as a response to changing norms and rules in Russian migration policies and governance on the state level. These new migration norms, or socially shared ideas and social knowledge about cause-and-effect relationships, regulate actors’ behaviours and contribute to the development of their identity. They further transform into habitual practices by acquiring a degree of appropriateness over time, and not only structure behaviour but also keep evolving within social interactions (Wiener 2007) and finally become socially accepted norms. The example of the border region between Russia and China demonstrates how decisions over choice of a certain behaviour and consequent creation of new trade-related migration norms in China are influenced by norms, ideas, policies, and their implementation in Russia. The analysis below illustrates some aspects of the regulatory framework and mechanisms of migration governance at the Sino-Russian border. Major decisions taken at important historical ‘choice’ points which lead to the signing of particular treaties, agreements, or conventions present an important factor which explains the deep-rooted meaning behind the appearance of norms (Wiener 2009) and presents the first condition for the norm diffusion process. An investigation of the reasons behind the high politicization and securitization of the border by Russia not only helps us to understand the motivations behind institutionalized mechanisms of the bilateral border migration governance but also explains the motivations of Chinese local and private actors to adjust their behaviour to circumstances on the ground. The analysis of the formation of a shared life-world in this border area is important to explain the actual process of norm creation and diffusion, as a second condition facilitating norm diffusion. The formation of a shared life-world at the Russian–Chinese border provided an opportunity for dialogue, negotiations, compromises, and agreements, and by these means facilitated norm diffusion on the governmental level between China and Russia, as well as from the central state to local authorities and down to the level of private actors in both states.
Institutionalization of the migration governance Since the beginning of the 1990s, China and Russia have gradually established institutional frameworks and worked out mechanisms for facilitating migration governance between both states. After the dissolution of the Soviet Union, Russia has started to gradually integrate itself into the Western liberal system and has begun the process of adapting various international norms, including those in the field of migration governance. In its cooperation with China, this is best reflected in the field of labour migration and the protection of migrants’ rights. A detailed analysis of the institutionalization process is provided below. As it has been demonstrated in the theoretical section above, for better understanding the norm
120 Anastasiya Bayok formation and diffusion process on the Sino-Russian border, it is important to understand under which conditions norms of bilateral migration cooperation were developed and which agreements institutionalized them. Below is a chronological analysis of the institutionalization process. The normalization of Sino-Russian relations began in the late 1980s, following the reform and opening-up policy in China and Perestroika in the USSR, respectively. After the collapse of the Soviet Union, bilateral relations began to experience visible improvements: the border region between the Russian Far East and the Chinese Northeast was exposed to the ever-growing trade which led to friendly trans-border relations. The whole process of territorial dispute resolution lasted for almost 20 years, with agreements on the demarcation of certain sections of the border coming into force in 1991, 1996, 1999, 2004, and 2008, respectively (Hass 2013: 13). The last agreement between China and Russia on the eastern sections of the border8 was signed in 2008 on Ussuriisky Island/Heixiazi Dao (Online archive of the Chinese Communist Party 2008), putting an end to the long-lasting negotiations over disputed territories and producing a clearly defined demarcation line along the whole length of the border between China and Russia. Due to the liberalization of foreign economic activities in both states and intensified bilateral interactions, migration at the Russian–Chinese border had already started to develop at the beginning of 1990s. The dynamics of the migration flows between China and Russia in the border area, according to Ponkratova, can be divided into the following seven stages: Stage 1: Opening up, 1988–1990 Liberalization policies were initiated and implemented in China and Russia, but migration was still limited. In 1988, an agreement between the governments of the USSR and the PRC on mutual trips of citizens was signed, which laid a basis for tourism and migration between the two states. Stage 2: Euphoria, 1991–1993 In 1991–1992, a number of bilateral interstate agreements on trade and labour exchanges were signed, including an agreement between the Government of the Russian Federation and the Government of the People’s Republic of China on the principles of sending and receiving Chinese citizens to work in enterprises, associations, and organizations in Russia (August 19, 1992), an agreement between the Ministry of Labour of the Russian Federation and the State Administration of Foreign Experts Affairs of the People’s Republic of China ‘On Sending Russian Technical Experts to China’ (December 18, 1992), and an agreement between the governments of the two countries ‘On Visa-Free Group Tourist Trips’ (December 18, 1992), which could be seen as the first legal basis for dealing with border migration issues. At that time, China also adopted a series of legislative acts which contributed greatly to the development of mechanisms for regulating trade between the people residing in the border area.9 In 1991, the Heilongjiang Provincial Government published the ‘Temporary Methods for Managing Border Trade between Border Cities of the USSR and the People’s Republic of China in
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Heilongjiang Province’. The same year a market for Russian–Chinese border trade between the cities of Blagoveshchensk and Heihe on the Greater Heihe Island and later in Suifenhe were opened. This led to very dynamic crossborder migration during this stage. Stage 3: Creating a ‘migration order’, 1994–1998 In 1993 China and Russia signed an intergovernmental agreement ‘On Visa Travel of Citizens’. It was in reaction to a huge number of Chinese citizens coming to Russia and staying there illegally. After the agreement came into force in 1994, the number of both Chinese going to Russia and Russians going to China decreased. In 1994, due to economic decline and multiple outbreaks of inflation in Russia, the total amount of trade between the Russian Far East and Chinese Northeast decreased drastically, which made China pay even more serious attention to the border trade. In 1996, nine Chinese cities (Heihe (黑河), Suifenhe (绥芬河), Dongning (东宁), Tongjiang (同江), Mishan (密山), Hulin (虎林), Fuyuan (抚远), Raohe (饶河), and Luobei (萝北)) bordering Russia had already obtained the official status of border trade zones from the Government of Heilongjiang (Zeng 2004). The aim was to facilitate border trade between the Russian Far East and China’s Northeast. Since the 1990s, the scope of cooperation between local Russian and Chinese authorities has broadened, and cross-border political and administrative ties between both sides have been strengthened. Links were established between regions, cities, towns, and the respective authorities across the border. Cooperation between federal and local institutions, such as border guards, security officers, and services for migration, sanitation and epidemiology, reached high levels. Most importantly, the coordination between Chinese and Russian local authorities then was much more efficient than between the latter and Russia’s central government (Larin 2005: 2). Cross-border exchanges stabilized during this stage and demonstrated growth tendencies by 1998. Stage 4: Changing the game rules, 1998–2003 This was the period of predominantly immigration from Russia to China when the structure of migration flows between the two states transformed. Following the 1998 economic crisis in Russia and the signing of an agreement between the Government of the Russian Federation and the Government of the People’s Republic of China on simplified Russian citizens’ entry into a number of shopping complexes located on the Chinese side of the Russian– Chinese border, mostly on the Greater Heihe Island in Heihe, a huge number of Russians went to China. They were involved in shuttle-trade and shoup tour activities. Due to low prices, Russia also became attractive for Chinese tourists and traders. In 2000, Russia and China signed an agreement ‘On Labour Activities of Chinese Citizens in Russia and Russian Citizens in China’. An agreement ‘On the Visa-Free Entry for Tourist Groups between the Two Countries’ was signed the same year (Zandanova 2015). These agreements coordinated the migration flows between the two countries, contributed to further control of illegal migration, and, as a result, led to the reduction of illegal migration
122 Anastasiya Bayok in both directions. In July 2001 the ‘Treaty of Good-Neighbourliness and Friendly Cooperation Between the People’s Republic of China and the Russian Federation’10 (hereafter the Treaty) was signed. Being the most important document for Sino-Russian bilateral relations, it mainly dealt with the mutual recognition of sovereignty, territorial integrity, and national security, as well as the core interests of the two countries. Beijing and Moscow agreed on mutual non-interference principles, respect for their respective development trajectories, and the safeguarding of historical, moral, and cultural values.11 The Treaty also laid the basis for mutual cooperation between China and Russia in the field of migration (Kashirskaya 2013). Stage 5: Pulling and pushing, 2004–2008 The decision of the People’s Government of Heilongjiang Province to expand the zone of Russian–Chinese border trade led to asymmetrical migration in favour of Russia. At that time Russians started to combine the shuttle trade with consumption of recreational and health treatment services in China, often going to China with their families. For example, most of the outbound tourist activities of Amur Oblast12 are related to tourism to China; almost every citizen of Amur Oblast has visited China at least once. Many Russians preferred spending time in China, because the welfare services there were much cheaper than in Russia (Chuvaev 2011: 197). The process of buying real estate in the Chinese Northeast by Russians from the border area initiated during this stage. Although in 2005 China granted Russia the status of an official ‘tourist destination’ (‘中国公民旅游目的地国’)13 (PRC Government Website 2005), the number of Chinese tourists did not increase, but rather declined, due to an official campaign against gambling. The office of Public Security of Heilongjiang Province stopped issuing one-time tourist passports (established in 1992) because some Chinese officials were caught gambling in the Far East. Additionally, visa-free tourism in the border area was reduced from 30 days to 15 in 2000, based on the intergovernmental protocol ‘On Amendments to the Agreement between the Government of the Russian Federation and the Government of the People’s Republic of China on VisaFree Entry for Group Tours’. This reduced the instances of illegal trade under the guise of tourism (Ryazantsev 2015:176). Beijing, for its part, had no official governmental policies aimed specifically towards Russian migration to China during this stage but provided visa waivers for Russians in 2004 (Ioffe & Ryzhova 2009). In 2006 for the purpose of intensifying bilateral cooperation in the area of migration governance, building legal and regulatory framework to ensure and improve the protection of the legitimate rights and interests of migrants, preventing illegal migration and exchanging information on the methods of border control, China and Russia formed a Joint Working Group on Migration. In 2007 the second meeting of the Joint Working Group took place in Beijing where the parties agreed on developing an intergovernmental agreement on the regulation of facilitating legal contacts between citizens of their countries
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and cooperating in fighting illegal migration. During the third meeting of the Joint Working Group on Migration in 2009, the issues of labour migration and protection of labour migrants’ legal rights were discussed (Long & Korobeev 2010: pp.80–81). The meetings of the Joint Working Group usually take place annually, and the eleventh meeting was planned to be held in Russia in 2018 (MVD RF 2017). Stage 6: Balancing, 2009–2013 During this stage, migration flows started to become more balanced. On the one hand, the quantity of Russians transporting Chinese goods for remuneration from Chinese traders14 decreased due to stricter customs regulations in Russia introduced in 2009. On the other hand, the joint decision of the Ministry of Public Security, the Ministry of Supervision (dissolved in March 2018 and merged into the National Supervisory Commission) and the State Administration for Tourism of the People’s Republic of China approved five pilot cities (counties), including Heihe, Suifenhe, and Dongnin, where PRC citizens could receive a tourist passport regardless of their place of residence. This measure did not greatly impact the scope of Chinese migration to Russia, however. After the softening of the customs rules in Russia in 2010, bilateral migration began to slowly speed up again. The relationship between the local authorities on both sides was also improving. In 2009 as part of the ‘Program of Cooperation between Northeast China and Russia’s Far East and Eastern Siberia (2009–2018)’ (‘中华人民共和国东北地区与俄罗斯联邦远 东及东西伯利亚地区合作规划纲要(2009–2018年)’), there were several new accords signed between Russian and Chinese local authorities promoting closer economic, scientific, technical, and cultural cooperation between the Amur Oblast and Heilongjiang Province. It also established a sister-city relationship between the cities of Blagoveshchensk and Heihe (Chuvaev 2011: 195–196). Stage 7: Multidirectional dynamics of Chinese and Russian migration flows from 2014 up to the present This stage has been characterized by growing migration mobility on the Chinese side and decreasing mobility on the Russian side. Reduced prices on natural resources, economic crises, Western sanctions against Russia, as well as growing prices in China have made it less attractive and less affordable for Russians to go to China but have created more impulses on the Chinese side to go to Russia. However, the numbers of foreign workers from China decreased due to the reduction of quotas for the attraction of foreign labour, the requirement of learning the Russian language for foreign workers, and stricter penalties for administrative offences (Ponkratova et al., 2018). The year 2018–2019 was officially announced as the year of cooperation between local Chinese and Russian authorities (Foreign Ministry of PRC). According to the Chinese Foreign Ministry, as of the end of October 2017, 140 sister cities and provinces and numerous sister provinces and regions with economic and trade zones were established, a regular meeting mechanism between the two countries’ local
124 Anastasiya Bayok leaders was initiated, and an Intergovernmental Cooperation Committee between Northeast China and Russia’s Far East and the Baikal region (中国东北地区和俄罗斯远东及贝加尔地区政府间合作委员会) came into being. Generally speaking, from the 2000s, an ever-growing number of Russians migrated to China. On the one hand, the number of students, traders and businessmen, professionals in the entertainment industry, and recently, the amount of Russians with higher education and high professional skills has been increasing. This demonstrates that the pattern of migration is shifting from economic activities, such as shuttle trade, shop tours, and consumption of recreational services to the area of education and after-retirement activities. Studying in China is not new for students from the Russian Far East, but recently more and more of them prefer to get a degree in China, either beginning with a language programme or moving to Chinese universities after a couple of years spent at Russian universities. Most of such students do not return to Russia. Another popular trend is shown among Russian pensioners residing in the border area, who prefer to relocate to the other side of the Amur River. Many of them, based on the above-mentioned intergovernmental agreements, using the privilege of simplified visa and residence permit rules for citizens residing in the border area between China and Russia, have gotten long-term residence permits and bought real estate in China. The Chinese border area is more attractive to them due to lower living costs, better quality of health services, affordability of real estate, a healthier lifestyle, respect for the elderly, and access to a variety of services and consumption goods (Adams 2015: 176–177). The trend of buying real estate in the Chinese Northeast by Russians from the border area started around 2006, with its boom between 2007 and 2014, when there was a substantial increase in oil prices and, subsequently, an increase in the incomes and living standards in Russia, while the northeastern provinces of China were still far less expensive than those on the eastern coast of the country. Again, it was mostly pensioners who played an active role in these activities. In 2015, there were some speculations on Russian as well as Chinese language websites, that around 40,00015 Russians had acquired real estate in China’s Northeast, but this information is by no means official data and cannot be regarded as true and trustworthy. On the other hand, most Chinese residing in the Russian Far East are engaged in the trade industry or perform manual labour, not requiring high professional skills. Those with higher skills use the Far East regions as a bridge to move to the European part of Russia and then further to Europe. Others, having been successful in their economic activities in the Far East, return to China to set up new businesses there (Balzer & Repnikova 2010: 28). Despite the intensification of bilateral border cooperation and the steady development of migration governance, Russia has occasionally had moments of high politicization and securitization of the border during the last decades. China and Russia, both domestically and internationally, have a special stance on state sovereignty and proclaim non-interference in the domestic affairs of other states. The
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Treaty of 2001 demonstrates it very well. Despite the politically warm relations, the two countries share mutual distrust. China and Russia both regard border governance as a ‘“domain reserve” of core national sovereignty’ (Angenendt & Koch 2017: 5). Throughout history, national borders remained a ‘strategic national asset’ for Moscow (Pezullo 2014). This is why depending on domestic and international ideological, political, and socio-economic vulnerabilities, Russia from time to time implemented heavy border controls, as ‘controlling who enters the state and who does not is one of the few remaining powerful attributes of national sovereignty’ (Munck 2008: 1238). In Russia’s understanding, free and smooth cross-border movement of heterogeneous ethnical groups from China, no matter how deep the interconnectedness between the two states is or how strong globalization trends are, could lead to the perception of an absence of the border, which could suggest weak or declining state authority and even sovereignty (Alexseev & Hofstetter 2006: 4). This is something Moscow cannot afford, especially on its strategically important eastern border. An important peculiarity in this regard lies in the very role of the Far East region within Russia. In the 1990s, the Far East was neglected by Moscow. It was famous for its quest for independence and the desire of the local authorities to distance themselves from the central government, most notably concerning the demarcation of the border with China (Zinberg 1996) and the cooperation with the Chinese Northeast throughout the last couple of decades. It was only after the Russian policy of ‘turning to the East’ was implemented that the Far East has gained its strategic status as Russia’s gateway to the Asia-Pacific (Adams 2015: 148).16 Nevertheless, Russia at various occasions has been securitizing its border with China, both militarily and economically.17 In other words, migration from China in any form is a security issue for Russia, while for China, migration from Russia presents a security threat only if it is illegal and related to criminal or terrorist activities. However, due to intensive bilateral and multilateral cooperation between China and Russia in this field, including within the Shanghai Cooperation Organisation framework, such migration from Russia to China remains a rather hypothetical concern as opposed to a real threat. Local authorities and private entrepreneurs in the Chinese Northeast pursue their economic interests by promoting a positive image of an open and welcoming country and, together with some Russian counterparts whom they cooperate with and hire for shuttle trade activities,18 strive to find countermeasures against strict Russian state policies.
Norm diffusion in a shared life-world: The examples of Heihe and Blagoveshchensk China and Russia, united by a strategic partnership of cooperation and projecting an enormous impact on world politics, started to have official contacts as late as the 17th century. The creation of a shared life-world at the border between the two states was facilitated through intergovernmental treaties defining the relationship between the two states and their people. After the first frontier treaty, the Treaty of Nerchinsk, was signed in 1689 (Quested 1984), the diplomatic
126 Anastasiya Bayok relations between China and Russia began to flourish. At that time, the Manchu government established some institutions to facilitate its relations with Russia. The Russian South Hostel, a hostelry for Russian caravans, as well as Russian North Hostel, a hostelry for the Russian Church and its attendant buildings, were established. In Beijing, a Russian language school was founded, and it was common for Russians to learn Chinese or take Manchu women as their wives. This could be regarded as the first wave of Russian immigration to China. The second frontier treaty, the Treaty of Kyakhta, between the two states was signed in 1727 and specified the Russian–Chinese border. It also set the rules for trade and diplomatic correspondence between the two states (Quested 1984). The second wave of Russian immigration, the time when the uniqueness and special status of the border regions was once again emphasized, is related to the construction of the Chinese Eastern Railway (CER) which became part of Trans-Siberian Railway and connected Moscow with Vladivostok through Manchuria. The South Manchurian Railway (SMR) went from Harbin to Lüshunkou/Port Arthur and was then leased to China in 1898. The projects and the settlements built along the railroads attracted a lot of Russians, who moved there with their families. They enjoyed extraterritorial rights and other privileges as inhabitants of the border region. At that time, Harbin was an administrative centre of the CER and the city with the largest Russian population and the most Russian architecture and business in Asia. The third wave of Russian immigration to China took place during and after the Revolution in 1917 when the victory of ‘red’ Bolsheviks in Russia led a great number of ‘white Russians’, being loyal and dedicated to the Russian imperial government, to seek political asylum in China. This time, however, the Russian settlements were not restricted to the Chinese northeastern provinces and could be found in Xinjiang, Shanghai, Tianjing, etc., with the majority of people still settling in Manchuria. Later in the 20th century, during the Sino-Soviet split, the relations at the border became tense. There was almost complete estrangement between the Soviet and Chinese people along the border. The two allied governments were afraid of friendly relations between the people on both sides of the border region and wanted to prevent the formation of firm trans-border identities by Russians and Chinese, who by that time already had a shared identity as border dwellers (Urbansky 2017). After the collapse of the empires in China and Russia, and due to the improvement of bilateral relations, a gradual resolution of border issues and demarcation of the border was achieved. This enabled new friendly Russian–Chinese relations and cooperation, including on migration issues in the border area. Such border interactions between the two countries brought about a model for border governance in East Asia (Billé et al. 2012: 165–166). The migration between the two states, especially in the border area and after the implementation of a visa-free regime increased. Modern economic interactions and migration at the border between China and Russia began with peddler or shuttle trade, creating groups and markets of shuttle traders on both sides of the Amur River. At this time pragmatism and strategic thinking played a predominant role in bilateral relations, putting temporarily
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aside, but not erasing, historical disagreements, and grudges. The border region also received a new impetus for development. The border again started to slowly transform its role as a dividing factor to a connecting one. A platform for closer economic, social, and cultural interaction in the border regions was formed, which contributed to the erosion of the border to some extent (Urbansky 2017) and to the final creation of a shared life-world by the Chinese and Russians. Measuring some 4,300 km China and Russia share one of the longest borders in the world (Palamar 2008: 143), the longest part of which runs between Heilongjiang Province in the Chinese Northeast and the Amur Oblast in the Russian Far East (1,311.9 km). It is here, where the Amur city of Blagoveshchensk in Russia is situated just opposite the Chinese city of Heihe. Despite a very long border, it is a rare example of two settlements separated only by a river, so that citizens on both river banks can see the other’s skyline. Blagoveshchensk and Heihe are the most populous cities on the Russian–Chinese border (Mikhailova 2015: 443). There are 126 Russians residing in Heihe (Heihe Municipal Government Website19), although it is not specified if these are Russian citizens or the representatives of the Russian ethnic minority in China.20 Due to these characteristics, both cities have always been used as platforms for testing or implementing various pilot projects in bilateral cooperation. The usage of national currencies in bilateral bank operations is one such example. This experiment produced a positive outcome, and citizens in the border regions were allowed to open bank accounts in RMB and in Russian rubles (ibid.). Local authorities and private agents in Blagoveshchensk and Heihe play an important role in facilitating not only the cross-border trade but also trans-border migration from one state to the other. They are the shaping forces of the life-world shared by the Sino-Russian border which facilitate and implement norm diffusion. A few categories among these facilitators can be distinguished: state-run companies, such as companies established by the Heihe city government to assist Chinese construction companies to penetrate the Russian market. The second group comprises corporate agents, such as the real estate agency ‘The Window to China’, which offers flats to the residents of Amur Oblast in any part of China. The third group is comprised of individual agents, such as Chinese citizens offering Russians assistance in China, mainly regarding accommodation and related services, as well as Russians offering assistance to Chinese citizens residing in Russia (Ioffe & Ryzhova 2009). Migrants across both banks of the Amur River have formed stable social networks and trans-border communities, resulting in the formation of a mutual socio-economic space (Simutina & Ryzhova 2007), or a shared life-world. The Greater Heihe Island is the core of the free trade zone between China and Russia. It was founded early on in Heihe in 1992. The Russian signs on the buildings demonstrate that the economic activities and trade there are foremost aimed at Russian customers. This economic zone is divided into a tourist zone, a transport and storage zone, an industrial zone, and a high technology zone. Due to high registration fees set up by the Chinese authorities and much lower fees in Russia, Russian entrepreneurs foremost import Chinese goods and export raw materials
128 Anastasiya Bayok from Russia. This is the case also due to the inability of poor Russians residing in Amur Oblast to offer their Chinese counterparts anything except for timber and some other raw materials. Grey trade channels are used both by Russian and Chinese entrepreneurs. On the other hand, Russian programmers, interpreters, and commercial agents among the residents of the Amur Oblast are being hired by companies in China. Students of China studies from Amur Oblast go to Harbin and other big cities in China (Ioffe & Ryzhova 2009: 361). In their cross-border trade activities, both Chinese and Russians, who share a common identity as border dwellers and small merchants, tend to exploit the opportunities provided by the border regime, including visa-free travelling. Mostly, these traders are involved in grey forms of commerce, employment, and entrepreneurship. Grey commerce appeared in 1994 as a reaction to stricter regulations on the Russian side for shuttle trade and business migration from China. Grey commerce refers to the fact that Russians could import goods from China into Russia as private items, without paying customs duties, while Chinese citizens exporting these goods to Russia were obliged to pay customs duties. To solve this problem, Russians were hired by Chinese entrepreneurs to avoid the payment of customs duties. Russian citizens could bring five identical items of one good per trip, and depending on how much a Chinese trader wanted to be sold in Russia, he or she would employ the respective number of Russians for that job. These Russian agents were normally organized into groups of 5–10 people, with a leader called the ‘brick’, or ‘camel’, who was responsible for hiring a group members known as ‘lanterns’, as well as for covering all related travel expenses. In order to hide these activities from customs authorities, each ‘lantern’ usually crossed the border only once a month. The global economic crisis in 2008 led to an increased control of private goods transported by Russians from China at Russian customs ports, leading to a decrease in profit for both Russian and Chinese traders, as well as a reduction of consumer choices in Blagoveshchensk (Ioffe & Ryzhova 2009: 359–362). After a period of some relaxation of the Russian customs regime, this type of economic activity on the border has been reactivated lately.21 The practice of grey commerce vividly demonstrates how, in a shared lifeworld with established social practices and formed common identities, Chinese local and private actors adjust their business behaviour as a response to changing migration and customs rules and, consequently, norms in Russia. Tightened restrictions on cross-border shuttle trade from China became a new behavioural pattern for Russian citizens and a socially accepted trade-related migration norm in Russia. This norm diffused across the border from Russia to China, creating awareness among Chinese traders that their economic interests were being impeded, thus encouraging them to react. As a result, they developed channels of grey commerce and these practices became socially accepted in a Russian– Chinese shared life-world and gradually institutionalized into new norms. This certainly would not have been possible to achieve without a pre-existing social and normative context of migration governance formed and institutionalized through bilateral treaties and agreements, which have formed and are regulating migration governance in the border area.
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Conclusion This chapter investigated the process of establishing migration governance mechanisms on the Sino-Russian border. The underlying causes and motivations of these processes were analyzed from the perspective of norm diffusion and political and security considerations. The above analysis shows that the relationship between China and Russia, especially in the border area, has always been determined by pragmatism, based on the mutual quest for maintaining border security and a stable relationship with the neighbouring country, as well as on safeguarding mutual economic interests and cooperation. For Russia, these benefits include trade and access to Chinese capital and relatively cheap but skilled Chinese labour. Due to a widespread absence of academic interest in migration flows from Russia to China, this chapter has made a contribution by demonstrating that on the state level China is open and eager to improve border cooperation with its neighbour, including in the field of migration. Such cooperation is advantageous for China’s economy by providing access to Russian natural resources and markets, attracting Russian tourists, and creating an opportunity to export some of its labour force abroad. On the local and individual level, the same eagerness and openness is also based on the goal of achieving individual economic profit from interactions with Russians in the border area. Moscow at times securitizes its border with China by setting heavy restrictions on trade and implementing strict border controls, hence restricting cross-border economic interaction between Russians from the Far East region and Chinese from China’s Northeast. This leads to the above-mentioned adaptation and norm diffusion processes resulting in the formation of new norms on the local level in China. Beijing, however, has never securitized the border but rather developed well-functioning mechanisms of border control and facilitation of cross-border economic activities, including trade and tourism. Regarding cooperation in border migration governance between China and Russia, the interplay of three levels of such cooperation has been investigated in this chapter: state, local, and individual or private. While the state level institutionalized cooperation and migration governance, the local level provided for its implementation, which was conducted mostly by private agents as active actors of shared life-worlds at the Sino-Russian border, who enable norm diffusion and the formation of new norms. In the Sino-Russian border area and as a response to changing norms and rules in the Russian migration policy and governance, norm diffusion at the local and individual level has manifested itself in a change of behaviour and practices of Chinese authorities and individual entrepreneurs. Generally speaking, politics, economics, and national security interests are behind the logic of migration governance on the Sino-Russian border. The border is highly securitized in Russia due to Chinese illegal migration, Chinese growing investment, and, allegedly, the possibility of a growing political influence from China in the region. This has created certain concerns for Moscow with regard to the sovereignty of the Russian state. For China, however, its border with Russia is not securitized and rather presents opportunities, foremost economic ones. It is yet to be seen whether Beijing will implement the same institutionalized practices
130 Anastasiya Bayok of migration governance at the border with its other neighbours in East Asia. As the Russian case has shown, the very first step is the complete resolution of all territorial disputes.
Notes 1 China and Russia have well-established migration-related cooperation mechanisms on the bilateral and multilateral levels. Both countries supported and agreed to implement the 2018 United Nations Global Compact for Safe, Orderly, and Regular Migration and the 2018 UN Global Compact on Refugees, and further cooperate internationally on related issues. This chapter deals exclusively with migration governance in the border area. For more information on Sino-Russian educational migration see Efremova 2017; for multilateral cooperation on intellectual migration within BRICS see Korobkov 2015 and Zadanova 2015, among others. 2 Compare with the definition provided by the International Organisation for Migration: ‘Migration – The movement of a person or a group of persons, either across an international border, or within a State. It is a population movement, encompassing any kind of movement of people, whatever its length, composition and causes; it includes migration of refugees, displaced persons, economic migrants, and persons moving for other purposes, including family reunification’ (https://www.iom.int/key-migration-terms). 3 All the research dealing with Sino-Russian border migration in Chinese and Russian academia is focused on the legal framework and case studies of Chinese, mostly illegal, migration to Russia. Only after the peak of Russian migration to China and the acquisition of Chinese real estate by Russians, a small number of Russian scientists, mostly from research institutions based in the Russian Far East, started to deal with this new trend academically. Although in China this research did not get due attention in academia, it, nevertheless, got a wide coverage in Chinese mass media and on social media platforms, with Chinese citizens posting comments and discussing the growing desire of Russians from the border regions to immigrate to China. 4 For more on the relevant discussion of life-worlds, its definitions, characteristics, and forms see Wiener 2007. 5 For more on diffusion as a process see Gilardi 2012. 6 For more on that see Gilardi 2012. 7 For details on these practices, including grey trade, see the section ‘Norm diffusion in a shared life-world: The examples of Heihe and Blagoveshchensk’ of this chapter. For more on grey commerce in economic activities on the Sino-Russian border see Ioffe and Ryzhova, N. 2009: 348–364. 8 In Chinese: 中华人民共和国政府和俄罗斯联邦政府关于中俄国界线东段补充叙 述议定书. 9 In Chinese: 边民互市贸易. 10 In Russian: ‘Договор о добрососедстве, дружбе и сотрудничеству между Российской Федерацией и Китайской Народной Республикой от 2001г.’, and ‘中 俄睦邻友好合作条约’ in Chinese. 11 The full text of the Treaty is available on the official website of the Foreign Ministry of PRC at https://www.fmprc.gov.cn/web/ziliao_674904/1179_674909/t5351.shtml. 12 Oblast is a federal subject of Russia. 13 The China National Tourism Administration granted Russia the official status of ‘tourist destination’ for Chinese citizens, which implies that Chinese tourist groups travelling to Russia can make use of the Sino-Russian mutual exemption group tourism visa channel. 14 They are being called ‘lanterns’, for more on that see the following section on agency in this chapter.
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15 Adams 2015; Chinese news portals and blogs, such as 俄罗斯4万老人中国东北养老:1000人民币就能应付一切_ 凤凰咨询at: http://new s.ifeng.com/a/20161007/50065323_0.shtml?wratingModule=1_9_. 16 At the moment, Russia is reorienting itself to the Asia-Pacific region, making it a priority of its foreign policy. Under these conditions, cooperation with China has naturally gained even more importance. Due to Western sanctions imposed on Russia in 2014 as well as Russia’s growing dependence on China (Chuvaev 2011: 197–198), this cooperation has become an inevitability and the only choice for Russia. The Far Eastern region fell into Moscow’s focus and Russia realized the importance of border cooperation for the improvement of living standards of the population along its border and for the general development of the Far East (Beydina & Novikova & Pogulich 2016: 27–28). 17 Russia views its border with China foremost in terms of illegal migration, criminal activities, and consequent overtaking of the Russian Far East by the Chinese, while for China it presents a window of economic opportunity and benefits (Billé et al., 2012). Even militarily, Moscow gave a couple of signs to China. The Russian Armed Forces conducted command-post exercises, ‘Vostok-2005’ in 2005 and ‘Vostok-2010’ in 2010, in the Far Eastern region, and despite any official statement, it is being claimed that, to a great extent, this was a warning for China (Haas 2013: 22–23), signalling that Moscow is capable of defending its Far Eastern regions in case of Chinese intrusion there. Apart from securitizing the border politically, Russia also securitizes its cooperation with China economically, from time to time using the ‘China threat’ to harshen its border control and adjust relevant regulations. At present, however, economically induced labour migration from China to Russia, especially to the Russian Far East, is strictly regulated and institutionalized (Wang 2017: 62). Already in 2005 it was claimed that the migration issue, which was a disturbing factor in bilateral relations, was almost completely resolved, held under control, and was not anymore regarded as a serious demographic, socio-economic or political issue (Larin 2005: 5). In 2009 China and Russia signed an agreement establishing a ‘Programme of Cooperation between the Regions of the Russian Far East and Eastern Siberia and the Northeast of the People’s Republic of China (2009–2018)’. The road map of this cooperation was missing from the very beginning, and not much has been implemented in practice under its rather declaratory framework (Petrovsky 2016: 6). It was mainly due to the absence of the Russian central government’s desire to implement the Programme to its full extent. Another example of the lack of Russia’s motivation to deepen the cooperation with China is the absence of a bridge between Blagoveshchensk and Heihe, despite the fact that these two cities are geographically very close to each other. The two-way flow of citizens in the border region had already become part of daily life by the 1990s. At the same time, the differences in the way and quality of life on both sides of the Amur River are striking. Back in 2000, when Russian President Vladimir Putin visited Blagoveshchensk, he was impressed by its poverty in comparison to the prosperity of Heihe (Horie 2017: 755). During his visit to the Russian Far East in the same year, Putin remarked, ‘if we do not take concerted action, the future local population will speak Japanese, Chinese, or Korean’ (Rogerson 2010: 8). In 2005, then Russian Interior Minister Rashid Nurgaliev stressed once again the security threat for the Far East resulting from illegal Chinese immigration into Russia (ibid). This threat perception is one of the main reasons why, despite close geographical proximity of Blagoveshchensk and Heihe and manifold contacts between them, there is yet no bridge connecting the two cities. 18 See the next section on the shuttle trade at the Sino-Russian border. 19 Heihe Municipal People’s Government, http://www.heihe.gov.cn/sq/jbgk/qhrk.htm (accessed 31 October 2019). 20 Interestingly, on the website of the Heilongjiang Government, Russians are not listed as a minority or as residents at all (Heilongjiang Provincial Government Website).
132 Anastasiya Bayok 21 The most recent accessible academic information on the grey commerce dates back to 2009, but according to the local news agencies of the Amur oblast, this type of commerce still exists.
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Ioffe, G. and Ryzhova, N. (2009) ‘Trans-border exchange between Russia and China: the case of Blagoveshchensk and Heihe’. Eurasian Geography and Economics 50 (3), pp. 348–364. Kashirskaya, A.V. (2013) ‘Problema migratsii v prigranichnom sotrudnichestve Rossii i Kitaya [Migration problem in border cooperation of Russia and China]’. Upravlencheskoye konsul’tirovaniye 4, pp. 69–74. Korobkov, A. (2015) ‘BRICS members and the migration challenge’. Tractus aevorum 2 (2), pp. 190–203. Larin, V. (2005) ‘V “novuyu eru” so starymi problemami: itogi i perspektivy rossiyskokitayskogo regional’nogo vzaimodeystviya [In the “new era” with the old problems: the results and prospects of Russian-Chinese regional cooperation]’. Slavic Eurasian Studies 6, pp. 1–13. Long, C. and Korobeev, I. (2010) ‘Osobennosti migratsionnoy politiki sovremennogo Kitaya [Peculiarities of the migration policy of modern China]’. Zhurnal rossiyskogo prava 9, pp. 77–82. Mikhailova, E. (2015) ‘Border tourism on the Russian-Chinese border’. Journal of Siberian Federal University. Humanities & Social Sciences 3 (8), pp. 437–451. Munck, R. (2008) ‘Globalisation, governance and migration: an introduction’. Third World Quarterly 29 (7), pp. 1227–1246. Muratshina, K. (2017) ‘Programma sotrudnichestva regionov Dal’nego Vostoka i Vostochnoy Sibiri RF i Severo-Vostoka KNR na 2009–2018 gg. v rossiysko-kitayskom transgranichnom vzaimodeystvii: znacheniye, evolyutsiya, riski [The programme of cooperation between Russian Far East and eastern Siberia and Chinese North-eastern regions (2009–2018) and its role, evolution and risks in the Russian-Chinese crossborder interaction]’. Vestnik Tomskogo gosudarstvennogo universiteta – Tomsk State University Journal 417, pp. 110–120. Palamar, N. (2008) ‘K voprosu ob ustanovlenii gosudarstvennoy granitsy Rossiyskoy Federatsii [To the question on the establishment of the frontier of the Russian federation]’. Znaniye. Ponimaniye. Umeniye 6, pp. 143–145. Petrovsky V. (2016) Strategic Planning of Russia–China Relations in Cross-Border and Inter-Regional Cooperation. Russian International Affairs Council. No. 2. Pezzullo, M. (2014) Sovereignty in an Age of Global Interdependency: The Role of Borders. Australian Strategic Policy Institute, Canberra. Ponkratova, L. (2010) ‘Transgranichnyye obmeny i vzaimodeystviye prigranichnykh regionov Rossii i Kitaya [Cross-border exchanges and interaction of the border regions of Russia and China]’. Problemy Dal’nego Vostoka 6, pp. 99–115. Ponkratova, L. (2015) ‘Transgranichnaya migratsiya naseleniya v rossiysko-kitayskom vzaimodeystvii: vliyaniye faktorov i transformatsiya potokov [Transboundary population migration in the Russian-Chinese interaction: the impact of factors and the transformation of flows]’. Ryazantsev V, pp. 172–178. Quested, R. (1984) Sino-Russian Relations: A Short History / R.K.I. Quested. Sydney: George Allen & Unwin Sydney. Rogerson, D. (2010) China and Russia: Competition and Partnership. New York: Nova Science Publishers. Ryazantsev, V. (2015) Migratsionnyye protsessy v Aziatsko-Tikhookeanskom regione: istoriya, sovremennost’, praktiki vzaimodeystviya i regulirovaniya: sbornik trudov mezhdunarodnoy nauchno-prakticheskoy konferentsii, 10–12 noyabrya 2015 g [Migration Processes in the Asia-Pacific Region: History, Modernity, Practices of
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7
‘Foreign wives’, Eurasian children, and citizenship dilemmas in China Elena Barabantseva
Introduction Since the 2010s immigration has become a prominent area of legislative and policy activities in the People’s Republic of China (PRC or China thereafter) – the Immigration Law came into force in 2013, followed by the establishment of the Ministry of Immigration in 2018 (Pieke 2012, Lehmann and Leonard 2019). In the same year China signed up to the non-binding United Nations’ global migration compact and its commitment to promote ‘safe, orderly, and regular migration’, yet Chinese officials stressed that domestic laws and national conditions would prevail in defining the state’s position on immigration.1 Although one of the compact’s guiding principles is to provide ‘gender-responsive’ migration policies, the main priority of China’s national immigration strategy is to attract highskilled experts and talents, while the spheres of family and marriage migration remain largely underdeveloped. It is significant because it shows that gender and reproductive labour remain absent in the normative and institutional design of immigration in China. The phenomenon of marriage migration is on the rise and has generated a considerable amount of scholarly discussions amongst Chinese social scientists and lawyers who stress the need to facilitate integration and naturalization processes for marriage migrants (Jeffreys and Wang 2013, Liu 2019). The main focus of the scholarship so far has been either on undocumented marriage migrants whose marriage and residence statuses in China are irregular or on Chinese women marrying Western men or men from more affluent Asian societies (Farrer 2008, 2012, Lehmann 2014, Nehring and Wang 2016). In this chapter I examine China’s transition to an immigration state by discussing the cases of documented and recognized Chinese–foreign marriages involving women from the post-Soviet Russia and Ukraine. I focus on how China’s current immigration regime intersects with negotiations of gender, family norms, and citizenship practices. Feminist scholarship has systematically challenged distinctions between marriage and labour migration in immigration laws (Palriwala and Uberoi 2008, Piper and Roces 2003, Williams 2010, Lu Yang 2010) and has exposed deep, complex, and multilayered connections in how relations of power operate and produce inequalities across global and local scales, as well as in public and private spheres (Williams and Massaro 2013). Here, I am particularly
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concerned with gaining a better understanding of how the Chinese immigration regime and citizenship regulations shape migrant subjectivities and inform foreign mothers’ decisions concerning their children’s citizenship. Previously, I discussed women’s strategies of adaptation to the hostile Chinese citizenship regime (Barabantseva 2019); however, in this chapter the main focus is on how claims to identity and belonging, enshrined in the citizenship and immigration regimes, manifest in the contestations over the status, and citizenship of Russian-speaking migrant mothers and their children in China (Mountz and Hyndman 2006: 447). Chinese immigration regulations and citizenship provisions are rooted in the collective memory of ‘national humiliation’ and informed by uncertainty and ambivalence towards the acceptance of foreigners in China (Brady 2003, Leonard and Lehmann 2019: 3). The party-state promotes Confucian family mores and emphasizes traditional gender roles – men as family breadwinners and women as harbingers of domesticity, loyalty, and femininity. These values continue to strengthen patriarchal structures and gender inequality in Chinese society (Harrell and Santos 2017, Zurnodorfer 2018). International marriage is the terrain for the realization of personal aspirations and desires, as well as geopolitical and national strategies, where state actors sanction specific family forms, regulate intimate relations, distribute rights, and, in doing so, produce new inequalities (Jones and Shen 2008: 22; Turner 2008; Toyota 2008; Oswin and Olund 2010). Marriage migration and transnational households are relatively new spaces in China that highlight emerging tensions between citizenship, marriage, familial norms, and parental rights. I outline historical and cultural contexts to China’s current immigration regime that objectifies foreign wives as family visitors with a temporary status while appropriating their children as members of the Chinese nation. I show that children born to mixed couples become border sites where competing citizenship and familial norms come to the fore and often clash. My discussion is based on life-story conversations with over 50 Russianspeaking women from Russia and Ukraine who were or have been married to Chinese men and were living in China at the time of my fieldwork between November 2016 and August 2018. I relate my interpretations of the conversations to the analyses of official and popular discourses on foreign marriages in China and digital ethnography of several WeChat groups. In the first section, I provide an overview of China’s evolving immigration governance regime and discuss the public discourses on ‘Russian wives’. In the second section, I juxtapose Chinese public debates on population quality and race, with the politics of ‘face’ in the context of demographic concerns and publicly voiced solutions to social problems. In the third section, I focus on the life story of Lena A, a divorcee who continued to live in Beijing with her son after separation from a Chinese man. Coincidentally, many of my interviewees were called Lena, and for the purposes of anonymity, I refer to them as Lena A, B, C, D, and E. I place the interplay of the geopolitical and the intimate in Lena A’s account alongside similar themes in the stories of other Russian-speaking women.2 In the fourth section, I report on how the women approached and negotiated the status of their children in China through the lens of embodied border sites where racialized geopolitics, competing individual values,
Citizenship dilemmas in China 137 and family norms meet and clash. I show how the politics of citizenship, identity, and race play out in the women’s contestations of their children’s national belonging. I conclude by recounting how China’s single citizenship and current immigration regime restricts foreign spouses on family visitor visas to the reproductive sphere of marriage and how the subsequent family life produces inequalities that surface in parental negotiations of their children’s citizenship.
Locating the ‘Russian wife’ in the Chinese immigration governance regime As the summer months of 2017 approached, a WeChat group set up in 2014 by Russian-speaking women with half-Chinese children living in the PRC became busy with messages from group members seeking advice on travel documents for the approaching school holiday season. Requests for the list of required documents for exit/entry, the procedure for application, and the legalization of travel documents were posted and responded to daily, sometimes reaching over 100 posts a day. Those who had already obtained the necessary documents or had recently travelled across China’s national borders shared their experiences in WeChat with the rest of the group. The flurry of messages was spurred on by circulating information about pilot border management measures in the Shenzhen Airport, which were announced in February 2017 and were aiming to collect biometric information of all foreigners between 14 and 70 years of age.3 The publication warned that the measures would serve to enforce single citizenship for Chinese nationals who were naturalized by a foreign country without forsaking Chinese household registration (hukou) and were, therefore, in possession of de facto dual citizenship.4 While these new measures did not have direct implications for foreigners living in China on family or work visas because their marriage and/or labour status did not open a pathway to full citizenship, some women became alarmed. The PRC’s first immigration legislative framework spelled out in the 2013 Immigration Law mainly regulates the status of foreign workers in China, while formulating new conditions for foreign members of Chinese families. The Law introduced two types of family visitor visas – Q1 and Q2. The Q2 visa is issued to relatives of Chinese citizens or of foreigners with permanent residence in China for a short period of stay (up to 6 months). The Q1 visa is issued with a single entry and valid for up to 30 days. The holders of this visa category must apply for a Temporary Residence Permit within 30 days of entry. The residence permit can be granted for a minimum of 90 days and a maximum of 5 years. Although the same law makes provisions for long-term residence (up to ten years) for foreign spouses, the application process is lengthy, expensive, and the qualifying criteria are difficult to meet. More importantly, until a foreign spouse secures a long-term residence permit that grants them labour rights in China, they are restricted to the domestic sphere and to reproductive roles, with no labour or social rights. As such, they are designated to the position of a foreign family visitor, dependent on the good will of the husband to support and sponsor their application for a legal, albeit dependent, stay in China. The status of the children born to Chinese–foreign
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couples,5 on the other hand, is a space where competing citizenship strategies play out, where parental norms, values, and aspirations clash. The heated WeChat discussions over the announcement of the new measures in the Shenzhen Airport signalled the sentiments of uncertainty among women facing the difficult choice of giving their children either the mothers’ home or the fathers’ Chinese nationality. The narrowing space for citizenship negotiations of mixed children’s status in China uncovered national insecurities and produced a new battleground for parental rights.6 PRC citizenship has evolved from practices of the late-Qing Reformers and Republicans who stressed the importance of blood lineage for the purpose of Chinese national unity against foreign domination and was codified in the 1909 Nationality Ordinance (Chiu 1990). The early Communist Chinese state was predicated on the same blood lineage until, in 1955, the PRC had to abandon its practice of dual citizenship to avoid the escalation of ethnic animosity towards overseas Chinese communities in Southeast Asia (Suryadinata 2002). At the same time, an ethnic identification project that aimed at identifying ethnic groups inhabiting Communist China led to the recognition of 56 ethnic groups, one of which consisted of descendants of escapees and exiles from the Russian Empire and Soviet revolution who settled on the Chinese side of the border in the early 20th century. They were granted PRC citizenship and ethnic minority status. The evolution of Chinese citizenship and the national model of a multi-ethnic unified state serves as an important backdrop for contextualizing marriage migration and the position of foreign wives in the Chinese nation and society. Since the early 2000s and the height of strict family planning measures (in place from 1979 to January 2016), regular concerns over the growing gender imbalance and an increasing rate of singletons, who were thought to worsen the economic prospects of the country, became common subjects in Chinese media spheres. It is against this background that the images of the Russian women entered the collective Chinese consciousness as suitable foreign partners for Chinese men (Barabantseva and Grillot 2018). While women from Southeast Asia became the default choice as foreign brides for rural Chinese bachelors, Russian women have been presented as choice number one for well-off Chinese urbanites. Following government announcements about the likely shortage of women for Chinese men, the ‘Russian wife’ became known as the crème del la crème of foreign brides through a series of official and popular publications (Barabantseva and Grillot 2019). ‘Russian wife’ became a widely circulated and accepted sociocultural label with particular meanings ascribed to it. For example, one of my research participants gave a vivid definition of a ‘Russian wife’ from her experiences and observations. ‘Russian wife, in the minds of many Chinese men, is an undemanding and strong white woman, who can be bought’ (21 August 2016, Beijing). ‘The ideal formula of international couple’ advert according to which a Chinese man and a Russian woman are a perfect match for an international marriage, published in the leading Russian newspaper Rossiyskaya Gazeta in May 2015 under the auspices of the PRC’s Ministry of Education, became the epitome of the official stance on the subject of Russian brides in China (Koshoibekova 2015). I often brought up
Citizenship dilemmas in China 139 the advert in my conversations in order to gauge the sentiments of my research participants. Lena C, a single professional woman from Saint Petersburg working as a translator in Beijing, expressed a particularly strong reaction towards the advert: ‘When I saw this advert, I was shocked. Bastards. They got paid and they published it. It is Rossiyskaya Gazeta, the state’s mouthpiece! After a series of corruption scandals, our people just do not understand [the power of advertising]. Those who published it are “enemies of the people”’ (Author’s field notes, 21 August 2016, Beijing). In the early 2000s, the ‘Russian wife’ referred indiscriminately to Slavic women from the former Soviet states; however, since the breakout of the war in Ukraine in 2014, clearer distinctions between Russian and Ukrainian women have appeared in Chinese media coverage.7 Public awareness of Ukraine as a separate entity and Ukrainian women as different from Russian ones, yet within the reach of Chinese men, was popularized by the story of Mei Aisi, a self-professed Chinese ‘loser’ (diao si) who went to Ukraine for education and business opportunities after failing the Chinese University entrance exam in the early 2000s. Overnight, Mei became an internet celebrity after publishing photographs of his wife in a bikini, and his business idea to create the largest Chinese–Ukrainian business, specializing in matchmaking services, was off to a promising start.8 While the number of Chinese–foreign marriages is steadily growing, it remains insignificant in absolute terms. The idea of such marriages appeals to the Chinese media, which invests considerable resources to cover the topic.9 Shifting power relations and changing socio-economic realities in Russia, China, and Ukraine have changed the perception of foreign women who, against the backdrop of the widely reported gender gap in Chinese society, increasingly live up to the image of an educated, white wife who would be a dedicated mother, passionate lover, domestic labourer, and a symbol of social status (or mianzi (face) in Chinese cultural terms) for a Chinese man. The cultural politics of masculinities in postMao China created a particular kind of competitive entrepreneur who, in order to express and strengthen its manpower, ‘requires a hypersexualized, provocative trophy woman to monopolize, control and objectify’ (Zheng 2012: 665). The Chinese men’s predicament to display strength in their interactions with women was characterized as part of the effort to revive China’s national strength and recovery of suppressed masculinity during the Mao period (Zhong 2000, Zheng 2006). In this discursive field the ‘Russian wife’ appears as a good match for Chinese entrepreneurs who reassert their masculine power not only through conspicuous consumption but also by visibly dominating a white woman. The qualities of a high level of education and whiteness are particularly stressed alongside the perception that women from the post-Soviet countries are not as emancipated and independent as the women from the West, and, therefore, would be content in their domestic role. On the other side of the Chinese border, the perception of Chinese men has been changing too. The 1990s’ stereotype of the Chinese man as a ‘guy with a tank shirt rolled up to his chest and his wife with a terrible perm spitting on the market’ is dissolving into the past (field notes, 4 August 2016). The shifting mutual perceptions and changing stereotypes within the broader
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processes of mobility across Chinese borders, however, do not undermine the persistent relevance of the population question in China.
Population question: The interplay of quality and race Post-Mao China’s concerns over the Chinese population as a whole are a wellstudied area of scholarly enquiry (Anagnost 1995, Greenhalgh 2010, Greenhalgh and Winckler 2005). The party-state’s articulation of the ‘population question’ has been one of the central national security concerns of the reform era, framed across the twin problem of population: quantity and quality. The quantity problem has been regulated through family planning policies and through the pervasive control over the reproductive qualities of Chinese women’s bodies.10 The notion of ‘population quality’ emerged and developed as a catch-all phrase for developing superior, healthy, well-mannered, and educated persons, fitted for China’s growing global status. In her research on the role of the population in Chinese reform, Susan Greenhalgh concluded that ‘population quality’ was initially eugenic in character, aimed at preventing defective births through medical and legal means. Later, it expanded to include health, education, and child rearing more generally, and all social forces were encouraged to promote the cultivation of a new generation of citizens who would grow into a high-quality labour force and contribute to China’s global rise (Greenhalgh 2010: 20). However, the eugenic foundations of the ‘population quality’ question remained largely unquestioned. The concern over ‘population quality’ is related to other prominent aspects of Chinese national imagination – the uncomfortable relationship with the question of race and the changing position of the woman’s body in the Chinese national imagination. Louise Schein cogently described the changing meanings of the white woman’s body in the early 1990s of post-Mao China through her ethnographic discussion of a wedding gift that was a poster of a white Western woman in a bikini during a traditional Miao wedding ritual in rural Southwest China (Schein 1994: 142).11 Relating this episode to the changing political and social culture in the post-Tiananmen era, Schein showed how the politics of whiteness gave way to different sexualized and political interpretations of Chinese market reforms, informing consumerist interpretations of social relations. In the early 1990s the white woman was a distant object of consumption, often featuring on calendars, posters, adverts, and billboards as an adornment of the private sphere and a public display of modern family life and domesticity. The white woman was an object of admiration, desire, longing, and the symbol of qualities which China lacked (Schein 1994: 147). The other side of the admiration and desire was the unhealed sense of humiliation and shame that China suffered at the hands of foreign powers in the period from the mid-19th century to the establishment of the PRC in 1949. While white women were distant and beyond reach in the early 1990s, their accessibility is more tangible in the mid-21st century. China in the 21st century is confident in its economic growth, cultural influence, and military weight, at a time when the ‘China Dream’ is presented as a promise of a good life available to anyone in China or beyond (Callahan 2017). Along with China’s
Citizenship dilemmas in China 141 unabated rise to global prominence, qualities and meaning ascribed to white femininities and their roles in informing Chinese identities have been changing too. These changes present a critical moment for exploring how the hierarchies of race, class, gender, sexuality, and the nation intersect and produce new meanings and relations of power (Peterson 2009: 39). The experiences of Russian and Ukrainian women, who have been married to Chinese men and living in China, afford an opportunity to examine the interplay of the ‘population question’ and an uneasy relationship with the issue of race and difference in China’s struggle for global influence. The position of these women as a favourite choice of foreign wife for Chinese men and a mother of mixed-race children objectifies them as the racialized and sexualized Other, desirable for the national reproduction of the Chinese population. Women are traditionally bordercrossers who are absorbed by patriarchal kinship structures. What is apparent in the current immigration regime is that while foreign wives are embraced into the patriarchal order of Confucian familial relations; they are also placed outside the normative boundaries of the Chinese nation by virtue of its nationality laws. They are foreigners whose bodies are now perceived as available to contribute to the rejuvenation of the Chinese nation through their roles as mothers of and caregivers to mixed-race children. Mixed-blood (hunxue) children occupy an ambiguous space of in-betweenness and yet are actively absorbed into the Chinese civilizational sphere through dominant family norms, citizenship practices, and education policies.12 They are, in Haiyan Lee’s vocabulary, desireable strangers in the Chinese national imagination who are actively converted into the core members (Lee 2014: 248). Their white mothers, on the other hand, remain prominent outsiders. Unlike the strangers in Lee’s analysis who ‘allow us to see alternative, marginal, or soft boundaries that do not always align with national boundaries’ (Lee 2014: 12), the position of foreign wives in Chinese society sheds light on the limits of dominant patriarchal Confucian ethics, racial hierarchies, and the citizenship regime that makes them part of Chinese families yet denies their social and economic rights outside of their family homes. Despite the important social role ascribed to them in Chinese official and popular discourses, they remain in the status of a permanent sojourner. Gender and sexuality have historically been central to China’s colonial encounters and conquests. In China’s relations with its immediate neighbours, intermarriage played a role as a tool for building alliances or assimilation (Teng 2013: 46). During Manchu rule, the imperial court practised marriage exchange between court princesses and noble men from the Empire’s frontiers (Mann 2011: 168). The intellectual debates on race and racial hierarchy further shaped attitudes towards formal and informal relations with the outside world. Introduced at the end of the 19th century (Dikötter 1992, Duara 1996), the idea of race served the self-fulfilled prophecy of making China equal to the Western empires. The inclusion of race in the vocabulary of national unity and struggle, on the terms formulated by and comprehensible to the European rulers, reinvented China as a new entity comparable to the European states (Lee 2014: 249). Chinese elites adopted the political language of race to make sense of the European challenge, on the
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one hand, and to overcome China’s semi-colonial status of ‘national humiliation’, on the other. At the same time, ‘foreigners’ (foreign devils) came to designate almost exclusively the powers identified with the hegemonic forces of capitalism, colonialism, and imperialism (Lee 2014: 249, Conceison 2004). As a result, in the early 20th century, intermarriage with foreigners, seen as a phenomenon that further threatened the survival of the Chinese race in the face of a foreign aggression, was looked down upon and was eventually equated with cultural treason (Teng 2013: 49). Against this wider socio-historical context, the history of Russian–Chinese romantic encounters is closely intertwined with the imperial ambitions of the Chinese and Russian rulers at the end of the 19th century, resulting in mass migrations of people to the areas now known as Inner Mongolia, Xinjiang, Manchuria, and the Russian Far East (Gamsa 2014). In the Russian system of governance there is no official recognition of these historical processes, nor is there any acknowledgement of crimes committed against ethnic Chinese living in the border areas during the Russian expansion to the East. In the Chinese ethnic classification system, Russian migrants and mixed descendants of Russian–Chinese marriages are incorporated into one of the 56 officially recognized ethnic groups in China. Popular representations of Russian–Chinese marriages and recognition of Russian ethnicity stress the benevolence of the Chinese system under which they were embraced as legitimate members of the Chinese nation. Stress is also placed on the perception of their supposed superior qualities as beautiful and clever Euro-Asian descendants of such marriages, who ‘harmoniously’ combine Asian and European features.13 In the post-Mao reform period, ideas about national rejuvenation became closely entangled with the ideas of returning to Chinese cultural roots and of restoring China to its deserved place in the world order. This was accompanied by the quest for new manhood, manifested in the concept of ying hangzi (hard man) and popularized by Chinese male writers in the reform period (Mann 2011: 168). The arrival of foreigners to China signified a different national moment, which Haiyan Lee calls ‘a tremendous anxiety of inadequacy’ (Lee 2014: 250). In his landmark 1996 essay, Geremie Barmé examines the protagonist of a popular early 1990s’ Chinese TV series, A Beijing Man in New York, who hires a white American prostitute in order to take his frustrations out on her. Aired at the time of growing nationalist sentiment and anger about China’s inferior position in the world order, Barmé attributes a particularly popular scene to the changing notion of what is considered to be patriotic behaviour. He argues that in the post-1989 disillusionment with the West, ‘screwing foreigners’ became a way of expressing frustrations and taking revenge for the humiliations of the past (Barmé 1995: 234). The economic success and realization of material longings, brought about by market reforms and against the background of a restrictive political climate, gave rise to nationalistic narcissism. To possess a white woman became an exercise in affirming Chinese masculinity and an act of appropriation of whiteness as desired qualities of civility, prosperity, civilization, and freedom. Having a white woman, thus, has become a popular metaphor
Citizenship dilemmas in China 143 for overcoming a shameful past in cultural interrogations of China’s relations with the West. In another context related to the reform period, Ann Anagnost recounts the fascination and pointed attention that her Caucasian infant child aroused among ordinary Chinese during her field trip in 1991 (Anagnost 1995: 27–28). After a careful inspection of the baby’s body qualities, the onlookers would conclude that the quality of the baby’s body was higher than that of the children in China. Popular conclusions about the lack of China’s national strength, derived from the state of the body’s quality, followed seamlessly. Early-20th-century discourses on race continue to echo in China’s 21st-century concerns for national rejuvenation where whiteness plays the role of the marker of modernity and civilization. Throughout the reform period, the Chinese have been forging identities through an active emulation of Western bodily features and an emphasis on the exceptionalism of ancient Chinese culture and traditions, which the inflow of white blood would help to reinvigorate. A desire for more whiteness has been growing in popularity since the 1990s, as cosmetic operations for Western features have developed into an industrial scale business (Schein 1994, Wolff 2013) and have recently extended to a new underground trade of eggs by white women.14 The domestic industries of entertainment and advertising capitalize on desires of possessing a white women’s body and have created a buoyant informal market for young women from the former Soviet bloc. Lena D, from Khabarovsk, Russia, was a master’s student at a university in Changchun with a scholarship from the Confucius Institute when I met her in 2016. She regularly appeared in promotional events for new shopping centres in the city. On the day we met in the university dormitory, she had already spent the whole day posing as an Oriental Queen at the opening of a new shopping mall. 1,200 RMB for two days of modelling was a useful addition to her scholarship and six times more than the 200 RMB earned by her Chinese co-workers for the same two days of work. She told me that when her Chinese boyfriend was angry that ‘all foreigners make money with their faces’, she made the point that the ‘problem is not with foreigners, but with the Chinese who are ready to pay them so much more’ (interview, 4 August 2016, Changchun). Performing, consuming, possessing, and appropriating whiteness as a symbol of wellness and success has become an important gendered feature in China’s reform period. In the 21st century and during China’s economic reforms, possessing a white woman as a wife, lover, status symbol, and mother of Chinese citizens, unlike in the 1980s and 1990s, has become a real possibility. She is now accessible not only as an image on a poster for the realization of sexual fantasies and as a familiar face on TV15 but also as a womb for nurturing future Chinese nationals. Sara Smith, in her analysis of the effects of politics, religion, and marriage on personal choices in India, concluded that ‘the birth of a child contributes to a territorial project’ (Smith 2012: 1511). This cannot be truer than in the case of the PRC, where a birth certificate is issued in the hospital where the baby is born. Foreign women, married to Chinese citizen–men, who want to ensure that their baby has the same citizenship as them, have to either go back to their home country to give birth and
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register their baby there or find loopholes and creative ways of escaping China’s strict single citizenship regime that unambiguously includes their children into the Chinese nation and that excludes the mothers from it. The women’s decisions about the citizenship of their children in the closed PRC’s citizenship regime highlight a complex interplay between the personal choices and the geopolitical forces. I next turn to discuss how women have reconciled the objectifying practices of the Chinese immigration regime and reclaimed their children’s citizenship and sense of belonging.
Coming to terms with the ‘Russian wife’ status: Lena A’s story I finally met Lena A in August 2016, after making initial contact through WeChat a year earlier. My new acquaintances recommended that I talk to Lena about her experiences of marriage to a Chinese man, insights of living with Chinese in-laws, bringing up her son, and her survival of the divorce. I needed to speak to Lena A, or so I was told by at least five different people from the circle of Russianspeaking women in Beijing. Yet, the second time I arrived in Beijing in order to field research, Lena A was on holiday in Vladivostok, visiting her family. Taking a detour from my originally planned route along the Chinese–Russian border, I took an 8-hour coach journey from Mudanjiang in Jilin Province to Vladivostok in Russia’s Far East to meet with Lena A. We met for a coffee and then lunch in one of the cafes on Admiral Fokin’s boulevard, the city’s central pedestrian area. Lena A was open, confident, willing to share and ready to answer my questions at length. She was not in a rush because her son was in the summer camp outside Vladivostok. Like other women I had met during my research, Lena A was wellspoken, articulate, and prone to self-analysis. A native of Vladivostok, she had travelled to Beijing in 2002 when she was 28 years old to study Chinese language, hoping it would increase her career prospects back in Russia, and her original plan was to stay for one year. She has been living in Beijing ever since. She met her husband through friends, a Russian–Chinese couple, who made a positive impression on her. We talked about Lena’s journey to China, her marriage, family life, the status and value of white women in China, mixed children, and the politics of face. After leaving the cafe, we spoke for over four hours while walking around central Vladivostok. Lena A’s narrative echoed themes from other stories that I heard before and after meeting with her. Her ability to express, openly share, and analyze her experiences gave her confidence and earned her respect and trust among her peers in China. When she first talked about her personal problems and opened up about her divorce with her Chinese husband in the WeChat group, women started befriending her and seeking her advice on their own family problems. Soon into our conversation Lena A asked me if I knew what ‘face’ (she used mian zi) meant in Chinese. I said yes, but didn’t offer my interpretation of the term, and she went on to explain that, to approach the topic of Chinese–Russian marriages and understand women’s experiences better, I needed to have a firm grasp of the importance of ‘having a face’ in Chinese society. ‘Having a white
Citizenship dilemmas in China 145 foreign wife is a solid foundation for their Chinese face’, Lena A said. I came across variations of this phrase in nearly all my conversations with Russian and Ukrainian women in China. Whereas mian zi was the term often mentioned in explaining the Chinese men’s perspective on Russian–Chinese marriages, podkupitsya (to be bribed into) was the word used by women, themselves, in rationalizing their choice to marry a Chinese man. ‘They bribe us into marriage’ (oni nas podkupayut) by their level of attention and care, concluded Lena E when I asked her about her decision to marry a man from China. Lena A also used the word ‘bribing’ (podkupit’) and then quickly corrected herself, saying that it was probably not a precise word. Lena A went on to explain: From the first day of meeting each other, my future husband took care of my needs completely, including mundane things. Although I was ordering drinking water for my home by myself in the past, and managed to do it successfully with my very limited Chinese, when we started dating he would say, ‘I would order the water for you. Firstly, it is not difficult for me. Secondly, you live in my country and don’t know many things. I would do it, while you might make a mistake somewhere’. Surprised and impressed by such a level of care and concern on his part, Lena A acknowledged that she ‘had never met such a prince’ in her life. After one year of dating and receiving a marriage proposal, Lena A was not sure she wanted to marry for her fear of spending the rest of her life with the person she did not share a common language with and for her uncertainty about her future in China. Having dated for another year, and being constantly impressed by the level of attention given to her by her Chinese boyfriend, Lena finally agreed to marry him when she was just over 30 years old. She liked the fact that his level of attention did not decrease but increased and that he unfailingly took care of all her needs in China. ‘I liked that he decided everything for me, and I let him do it’, she concluded. He started paying for Chinese language courses, rented a comfortable apartment for Lena A, and took care of all her basic domestic needs. She came to China with some savings from Vladivostok and had been materially independent. Initially, the idea of materially depending on a man was alien to her. Lena A continued, ‘I could not accept it at the beginning, yet by the end of Year 2, he was paying for all my expenses in China’. This all-encompassing care, as many women expressed, was a trait that they had never experienced or observed back home. ‘Podkupitsya’ in this context means to be attracted to someone by the level of their care and attention, both material and sentimental, but stresses the objectified position of the person led (or tricked) into a marriage. After two and a half years of dating Lena A turned 31 years old and went home to tell her mother that her Chinese boyfriend had proposed to her and wanted to have a child together. Her mother did not object because she had observed his attentive and caring attitude towards her daughter, adding that ‘it is time for me to become grandma’. Lena A got pregnant as soon as she went back to Beijing
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and started thinking about legalizing her relationship. At this point, she turned for advice to the Russian embassy in Beijing. Lena A emphasized she had been grateful to a member of the staff of the Russian embassy in Beijing who ‘took her rosy glasses off’ and drew attention to her precarious status in China. The advice she received was to go back to Russia to give birth, register her baby there and return to China with the baby’s Russian documents. Giving birth in her own territory was a matter of ensuring her parental rights and granting unambiguous Russian citizenship to her baby. Lena A recalled the words of the embassy personnel: ‘Your child will be a citizen of Russia born in the territory of Russia. If you give birth to your child in China, they will treat and fight for him as for the citizen of China’. She recognized her insecure and dependent status in China and decided not to take the risk. Later on in the conversation, Lena A admitted that ‘even if the woman from the Embassy didn’t advise me to return home to give birth, I would have come out of my skin (vyprygnyula iz kozhi) to give my son Russian citizenship’. When I asked why, Lena A confessed that there were many unhappy stories of Chinese–Russian couples at the time. She went back to Russia when she was six months pregnant and regarded it as one of the most important decisions of her life. After coming back to China with a three-month-old baby son, the couple got married and moved in together. Busy with her new role as caregiver, Lena A gradually noticed that her family life was deteriorating. There was no intimacy between her and her husband anymore, and he was regularly absent on business trips, including during holidays that families in China normally spend together. Lena A started analyzing herself and initially thought that the problem was with her, yet soon discovered that her husband lived two parallel family lives – one with her and one with a Chinese woman. She challenged him with the question of why he needed to marry her, to which she got the reply that because she got pregnant first, and that if she did not like the arrangement, she could pack up and go back to Russia. The last straw for her was when her husband told her in front of his mother that ‘if he wanted to, he could bring another woman home and put her in his bed’. The same night Lena A decided to leave secretly with her son and moved in with a friend. From that point on, the husband recurrently asked her to leave their son with him. The main argument as to why Lena A should have left their son with him was that Lena A would still need to get married and nobody would consider a woman with a son as a reasonable marriage prospect. A remnant of the Confucian moral order, in part a by-product of the one-child policy, leaving a child in the father’s family in case of divorce became common in the reform period when urban families were restricted to having one child. If the woman was childless and married again, she could have another child. If she already had a child and married again, she could not have more children. ‘Chinese women leave their children with the husband’s family in their search for happiness’, Lena A asserted and continued, ‘but we do not leave ours behind. We have a very different mentality. He was even offering me money so that I would leave our son with him. I told him that my son is part of me, my heart and soul, but it was pointless to talk to him about a soul’. One year after the divorce, the
Citizenship dilemmas in China 147 couple found a middle ground. The son stayed with Lena A in Beijing, and her ex-husband paid for their son’s Chinese education and apartment, while Lena A covered her son’s Russian language classes and their daily necessities with the income from her small cargo business. I have recounted Lena A’s story of marriage in China at length to show how the interplay of personal aspirations, desires, and expectations runs in conflict with cultural and state norms of marriage and citizenship. They came forcefully together and resolved positively for Lena A, yet some of the women I met were less lucky. Lena A moved on from her dependent position as a ‘Russian wife’ to a semi-independent position as a foreign single parent in Beijing. While she still relies on her ex-husband’s support for their child’s education, she is convinced that she earned his respect by fighting for her dignity and maternal rights. She was thankful to her ex-husband for teaching her about ‘Chinese mentality’ and has since found it easier to understand and accept it.
Eurasian children and embodied geopolitics Contestations over the status and belonging of mixed children as Chinese nationals have consumed considerable emotional energies of the women who participated in this research. Practices of marriage and parenthood appear at the global–local intersections of gender, race, class, and ethnicity and in China are shaped by the historically informed notions of national belonging and customary practices. Whereas the Chinese socialist institute of marriage has been eroded with the growing number of divorces and a greater social acceptance of premarital and extramarital relations (Davies and Friedman 2014: 4), marital experiences and gender roles in families have not become more equal, but, rather, resemble practices from China’s past (Davis 2014: 570). Confucian values have resurfaced, influencing the marketization of family relations. With the growing number of divorces, it is not unusual for the child to stay with the father’s family and for the mother to be barely involved in the child’s rearing. Although the system of concubines was banned in 1950, having a second wife, as Lena A discovered in the case of her husband, is not unusual, particularly for well-off Chinese men. On top of being forced to actively engage with and interpret new cultural and moral fields, foreign wives are confronted with constantly changing bureaucratic procedures. The announcement by Shenzhen city authorities, as noted at the beginning of the chapter, is one of the recurrent daily bureaucratic hurdles that women have to understand, research, and actively act on. It is not a straightforward choice for a Chinese–Russian couple to decide where to settle for a family life. For Lena A, the pathway to her life in China was spearheaded by her decision to explore new opportunities, but the option to live in Russia after marrying was not a good choice. In her view, this was in part because her husband did not have any links with Russia except for her. For women who met their husbands in Russia or Ukraine, the decision on where to live as a Russian–Chinese family is not easy. Their decision is informed not only by life opportunities and education prospects but also by their daily experiences,
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including the extent to which they, as a couple, feel accepted and recognized in the society. The issue of racial prejudices and inequalities featured prominently in the narratives of women talking about their decision to move to China with their husbands. It was common for those who had met their future husbands in Russia or Ukraine to have experienced negative and aggressive attitudes towards them. For Lena E, the decision to live in China was the most obvious option because of the social attitudes towards her and her Chinese boyfriend in Ukraine: I started noticing racism towards us in Ukraine about two years after we started dating. And once in the Metro, someone hit me painfully with the words ‘bitch’ and ‘slut’. I did not expect it at all because I was dressed decently, and we never hugged or held hands in public. I could not express any feelings for him in public. Of course, some people knew, but we did not show our feelings. Honestly, I could not. But after such accidents, including when skinheads attacked my husband, I realized that for a couple like us to live in Ukraine permanently would not be an option. I could not bear the thought of being afraid constantly that we might be attacked, and for our child who would not be of a Slavic appearance, but of Asian, to experience humiliation. After those incidents, I realized that it would be easier for us to live in China. (4 June 2017, Beijing) Lena B, who married a Chinese man of mixed Russian–Chinese background, recalled that, although her husband did not complain about his years as a student in Moscow, he vividly remembered occasions when people harassed him because of his darker skin and almond-shaped eyes. He also remembered when he became the target of skinheads’ attacks and subject to regular document checks. Because of these experiences of humiliation, as soon as he graduated from University, he came back to China where he felt safer and more comfortable. Lena B concluded that in Russia mixed-race people are of second-class status, while in China it is the other way around. They are treated as first-class people. ‘It is reverse logic’. Lena A concurred with this view when I asked whether she would consider going back to Russia after divorcing her husband in China. She responded without hesitation: ‘My son would be kitajoza (chink) in Russia, while here he is a hunxue (mixed race). There is a difference, isn’t there?’ The apparent difference in their children’s appearance from the majority of people in China and their ambiguous place in the society was an issue that some women had been struggling with: ‘For a long time I was thinking who my children will look like. The skin colour was troubling me (nastorazhival menya). Everything was new, not customary. Everything was different’ (Lena C., 31 July 2016, Beijing). For another mother of a 10-year-old girl, the main area of concern was how her daughter would fit into Chinese society: ‘I am not sure how she will feel here in the future. This is the problem. I do not know how she will deal with an identity problem’ (5 June 2017, Beijing). These women have become well accustomed with the conventional wisdom in China that ‘Eurasian children are
Citizenship dilemmas in China 149 more clever, because their old Chinese blood is mixed with new European blood’. A mixed child, according to them, is very clever and ‘beautiful’. ‘If you ask a taxi driver or talk to a Chinese friend, of course they will say that a Eurasian child is very beautiful and will receive numerous compliments’ (Lena B., 31st May 2017). Advertising agencies capitalize on this and frequently circulate adverts in WeChat groups in search for Eurasian baby models, offering them a pay rate of up to 400 RMB per hour. Yet, the other aspect of being valued as a first-class person, and the valorization of whiteness for public consumption, is the underlying sense of inferiority and the ‘low quality’ of the Chinese population, which has been perpetuated as a shared national feeling. Lena B has been particularly analytical about her son’s experiences in school: Sometimes small children hurt him. Small children at the subconscious level, as they do not really understand, behave in an aggressive way. They do not know how to perceive a person with a different skin colour. Everything that they cannot understand is automatically rejected. Of course, it affects his development and personality. (Interview 31 May 2017, Beijing) When Lena B tried to raise this issue with the school, the teacher did not know how to react because she had never experienced anything like this, yet she often used the child as an opportunity to emphasize her own superiority by giving Lena B’s son poor marks, sitting him at the back desk, and telling him off for no reason. Daily struggles about their children’s place and acceptance in Chinese society exacerbated the women’s uncertainty about citizenship choices that they will need to make for themselves and their children in the face of an exclusionary citizenship regime that treats them as permanent visitors but embraces their children as Chinese nationals.
Conclusion With the growing openness of the Chinese economy and increased migration to China, the questions of how foreign spouses of Chinese nationals and mixed children are situated across political, racial, and citizenship borders of the Chinese nation emerge in a new light. These processes speak to the idea of Chinese national identity and the shape that Chinese citizenship is taking in the era of China’s growing global prominence and diversification of its population. In the early 21st century, the notions of population quality, national rejuvenation, and ‘earning a face’ continue to be unabated and echo historical debates. However, they take on new meanings in the context of newly formulated demographic and population trajectories, intensifying border-crossing trends, and China’s ambitions to become a global power. Marrying foreign women became a common discursive trope promoted by the state to rectify the problem of a shortage of women in China. Against the background of the discourse on a ‘foreign bride’ as a possible solution to the gender imbalance, the ‘Russian wife’ as a symbol of prestige and
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object of desire entered Chinese mediatized spheres as a favourite foreign wife and an accessible choice for an urban Chinese bachelor. These processes indicate how the hierarchies of race, class, gender, sexuality, and the nation produce new inequalities and relations of power in contemporary China. The interplay of Chinese citizenship and the stringent visa regime for foreign spouses that restricts their role to the domestic sphere came forcefully together in the story of Lena A, who lived through her marriage in China as a ‘Russian wife’ and overcame her dependent position with advice from the Russian embassy and her own shrewdness and sense of precaution. It is common for Chinese–Russian couples to face prejudices in the home country of the wife, and the choice to live in China offers better prospects for the children. While the status of Russian women as foreign spouses marks the boundaries of foreignness and race in China, the Eurasian children become border sites where competing family values and citizenship practices meet and clash. They expose not only personal ambitions and character traits of family members but also national anxieties, cultural tropes, and the deep-seated norms and beliefs that feed into the formulation and practices of China’s citizenship and immigration regimes.
Notes 1 ‘China to adopt UN’s global migration past according to its own conditions’, EFE, 11 December 2018, https://www.efe.com/efe/english/world/china-to-adopt-un-s-globalmigration-pact-according-its-own-conditions/50000262-3838973. 2 Incidentally, in the process of research I learnt that the majority of my research participants were of the same age group, born in the late 1970s–early 1980s in the Soviet Union, and shared similar experiences of growing up, parental styles, education, and socialization with me. We appealed to the same cultural references when talking about our formative years. Lena is also the short version of my first name. 3 ‘Xinzheng: Gong’an bu queren: Yi ru waiguo guoji xu zhuxiao zhongguo huji, fouze …’ [New Deal: The Ministry of Public Security confirms that foreign nationality must be written off in China, otherwise …], 1 March 2017, https://mp.weixin.qq.com/s?_ _biz=MjM5NDI0OTAyMA==&mid=2651960263&idx=1&sn=865d8f93e1f1ff4f7a6 f8721a822d773&chksm=bd6fb3948a183a823aed1f02d34723ee540b756ad78182b58 df1c301449620189cd9db9fd550&mpshare=1&scene=5&srcid=0301EUqRKOY7xJw rBLnWVsR7%23rd, accessed 10 October 2018. 4 Introduced in 1958 and strictly enforced until 1980, the household registration system (hukou) continues to operate as an internal bordering regime dividing China’s population into urban and rural citizens. The place of household registration to a large extent determines socio-economic and cultural entitlements of its holder, like access to social and welfare benefits. 5 Although the Immigration Law and family visitor visa are gender neutral and, in theory, apply equally to women and men, the majority of family visitor visa holders, according to my fieldwork observations, are women. 6 From my numerous conversations with women and consulate representatives, it became apparent that before the new Immigration Law came into force, the Nationality Law had not been strictly enforced, and children born to foreign–Chinese couples could have a Chinese visa in their foreign passport. This practice stopped in 2014. According to the Nationality Law, the children could decide which citizenship to choose by the age of 18, but because they can’t be entered into the hukou system (household registration) if they have a foreign passport, their Chinese citizenship isn’t complete. Without hukou children’s access to schooling, healthcare, and other aspects of social life in
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8 9
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China are limited. For instance, some women reported that without a hukou, their children were not allowed to join their school’s football club. ‘Jushuo zhe xie shi jiao eluosi nü pengyou de haochu, wukelan de ye shi yiyang, ni zao ma?’ [One says these are the advantages of dating a Russian woman – they are the same for Ukrainian women, do you go for it?] http://www.wtoutiao.com/p/190Saum.html, 20 May 2016, accessed 20 June 2016,Olesen, Alexa (2015) ‘Ukrainian Brides May Solve China’s Gender Gap, Chinese Media Claims’, Foreign Policy. 28 January, http:// foreignpolicy.com/2015/01/28/ukrainian-brides-may-solve-chinas-gender-gap-chinese -media-claims/, accessed 20 November 2016. ‘I Married a Beautiful Ukrainian Woman and So Can You’, video, 23 September 2017, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o081wqsny7w (accessed 19 October 2018) For example, Yu, Liping (2007) ‘Bring Home a Russian Wife’ (Ba Eluosi xinniang dai hui jia), Chinese Overseas (Qiao Yuan) 2: 26-27, ‘Jilin yi cunzhuang fe e taojin chu 200 yu hu feweng qu 22 wei e xinniang’, Xin wenhua wang, 16 November 2011, http: //news.sohu.com/20111116/n325764058.shtml, accessed 20 December 2016; ‘Village of Russian Brides in China’, http://greenlea.ru/Articles_Directory/Village_Of_Russia n_Brides_In_China.htm, accessed 16 December 2016. The announcement of China’s postage stamp to celebrate the 2019 year of the pig (by depicting a family of pigs with three piglets) generated speculations about a possible abolishment of restrictive birth policies and, instead, encouragement of Chinese families to have more children. Schein’s ethnographic vignette refers to her fieldwork observations during a traditional Miao wedding in a remote ethnic village in Guizhou Province which featured a nuptial gift from the city friends – a wall calendar with an image of a blonde model in a bikini aboard a racing car (Schein 1994: 141). Hunxue is literally translated as mixed blood and is a common term used to refer to all mixed-blood children in China. This does not negate the existence of a hierarchy of races in the Chinese national consciousness. A prominent example of these cultural tropes can be found in the Suifenhe museum on the Russian–Chinese border. The museum is dedicated to the life of Galina Dubeeva, a local Eurasian girl who died at the hands of the Japanese army towards the end of World War II. One aspect of Galina’s background, recurrently mentioned and emphasized in the museum, displays her mixed-race background. Several panels in the museum are dedicated to the unique features of marriage, which nurtured Galina’s heroic character. Galina is presented as a beautiful, clever, strong-willed, and independent character, with a romantic soul. The underlying message is that, due to the mixing of Russian and Chinese blood, a beautiful, talented, and heroic soul was born. ‘Chinese egg donor business: confession of a Russian woman’, EKD, 14 August 2017, http://ekd.me/2017/08/kitajskij-biznes-na-donorstve-yajcekletok-otkroveniya-ross iyanki/ The first Russian-speaking actress who rose to nation-wide stardom in China was Irina Kaptelova, the leading actress in the TV series My Natasha (2012), the televised interpretation of the epic love story between a Chinese soldier and a Soviet teacher. Kaptelova received an award at the 2012 TV Drama Awards in China. Yet, most of my research participants in China opined that Kaptelova’s success with Chinese audiences was due to her appearance, which ‘fits in with the stereotype of a Russian beauty in China’ rather than due to her acting talents (Author’s field notes, 31 May 2017, Beijing).
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Citizenship dilemmas in China 153 Koshoibekova, Nargiz (2015) ‘Russian newspaper encourages Russian-Chinese marriages’. World of Chinese, June 2. Available online at http://www.theworldofchin ese.com/2015/06/russian-newspaper-encourages-russian-chinese-marriages/ (accessed June 16, 2016). Lee, H. (2014) The Stranger and the Chinese Moral Imagination. Stanford: Stanford University Press. Lehmann, Angela (2014) Transnational Lives in China: Expatriates in a Globalizing City. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan. Lehmann, Angela and Leonard, Pauline (eds.) (2019) Destination China: Immigration to China in the Post-reform Era. New York: Palgrave. Leonard, Pauline and Lehmann, Angela (2019) ‘International migrants in China: civility, contradiction, and confusion’. In Angela Lehmann and Pauline Leonard (eds.) Destination China: Immigration to China in the Post-reform Era. New York: Palgrave, pp. 1–18. Liu, Guofu (2019) Status Quo, Challenges and Improvement of Chinese Foreign Brides Immigration Policies. Paper presented at the ‘Immigration and the Transformation of Chinese Society’ conference, Manchester April 24–25, 2019. Lu, Melody and Yang Wen-Shan, eds. (2010) Asian Cross-Border Marriage Migration Demographic Patterns and Social Issues. Amsterdam: University of Amsterdam Press. Mann, S. (2011) Gender and Sexuality in Modern Chinese History. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Mountz, Alison and Hyndman, Jennifer (2006) ‘Feminist approaches to the global intimate’. Women’s Studies Quarterly 34 (1/2), pp. 446–463. Nehring, Daniel and Wang, Xiying (2016) ‘Making transnational intimacies: intergenerational relationships in Chinese Western families in Beijing’. Chinese Journal of Sociology 3 (10), pp. 1–24. Oswin, Natalie and Olund, Eric (2010) ‘Governing intimacy’. Environment and Planning D: Society and Space 28 (1), pp. 60–67. Palriwala, Rajni and Uberoi, Patricia (2008) ‘Exploring the links: gender issues in marriage and migration’. In Rajni Palriwala and Patricia Uberoi (eds.) Marriage, Migration, and Gender. London: SAGE, pp. 23–60. Peterson, V. Spike (2009) ‘Interactive and intersectional analytics of globalization’. Frontiers: A Journal of Women Studies 30 (1), pp. 31–40. Pieke, Frank P. (2012) ‘Immigrant China’. Modern China 38 (1), pp. 40–77. Piper, Nicola and Roces, Mina (2003) ‘Introduction: marriage and migration in an age of globalization’. In Nicola Piper and Mina Roces (eds.) Wife or Worker? Asian Women and Migration. Lanham: Rowman and Littlefield, pp. 1–21. Schein, Louisa (1994) ‘The consumption of color and the politics of white skin in postMao China’. Social Text 41, pp. 141–164. Smith, Sara (2012) ‘Intimate geopolitics: religion, marriage, and reproductive bodies in Leh, Ladakh’. Annals of the Association of American Geographers 102 (6), pp. 1511–1528. Suryadinata, Leo (2002) ‘China’s citizenship law and the Chinese in Southeast Asia’. In M. Barry Hooker (eds.) Law and the Chinese in Southeast Asia. Singapore: Institute of Southeast Asian Studies, pp. 169–202. Teng, Emily J. (2013) Eurasian: Mixed Identities in the United States, China, and Hong Kong, 1842–1943. Berkeley: University of California Press. Toyota, Mika (2008) ‘Editorial introduction: international marriage, rights and the state in East and Southeast Asia’. Citizenship Studies 12 (1), pp. 1–7.
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8
China and the refugee dilemma A new asylum destination or a challenge to international norms? Elena Soboleva
Introduction As of June 2018, there are 24.4 million refugees in the world who have left their home countries to escape war, persecution, and violence (UNHCR, 2018b). The number of displaced people in the world has never been higher and the ongoing crisis is not likely to be resolved anytime soon. Over previous decades, China has been both the country of origin of refugees and the host country of significant numbers of forced migrants, mostly from bordering states. As asylum policies in Western countries are getting stricter and China’s economy is continuing to grow, the PRC has become an attractive asylum destination for refugees from conflict-torn states with which it does not share borders. Moreover, with the rise of China in the international arena, Western countries and foreign NGOs have increasingly appealed to Beijing to adopt a more responsible refugee policy and to play a greater role in the resolution of international migration crises. How has China’s refugee policy evolved and what factors have shaped this evolution? The majority of research on China’s refugee policy is either descriptive or has relied on realist assumptions that states’ international behaviour is guided by three considerations: sovereignty, security, and the balance of power (Choi, 2017). Another widely used explanatory factor is ethnic affinity between refugees and China’s population (Song, 2014). This chapter attempts to fill in the gap and analyze China’s refugee policy evolution by applying the theory of norm diffusion, which has been widely used to study internalization of international norms. China’s refugee policy does not exist in a vacuum. International concern with refugee problems has led to the establishment and development of the international refugee protection regime, which consists of rules and norms defining rights and responsibilities of states and individuals, as well as a system of institutions. Therefore, this chapter contributes not only to the understanding of China’s foreign policy formation but also to a theoretical understanding of how international refugee protection norms lead to changes in national policies. The chapter also shows that China’s new identity as a great and responsible power and respective expectations of the international society influence its refugee policy and make it impossible for the PRC to stay away from such an important global problem. Finally, another factor – citizenship of forced migrants – also plays a role, as
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China has developed different approaches to different groups of refugees not only depending on their ethnic background but also based on the PRC’s bilateral relationship with their respective country of origin. The chapter is structured as follows. The next sections outline major norms of refugee protection and give a brief overview of norm diffusion theory and major socialization mechanisms. Then, this chapter discusses the evolution of China’s refugee policy from the 1950s through 2018 and analyzes the effectiveness of different mechanisms in transmitting norms established by international law to China’s national context. There has been a lot of discussion on whether China, as an emerging power, is going to undermine the existing global order and international norms (e.g. Breslin, 2013). Therefore, another question raised in this chapter asks whether China tries to contest some of the established rules by promoting certain practices and constructing alternative discourses. The chapter draws on a range of primary and secondary sources in English and Chinese languages: international and Chinese national legal acts related to refugee protection; official statements of the Chinese government and international refugee protection institutions; articles from major Chinese media outlets; as well as international and Chinese scholarly work on norm diffusion, the international refugee protection regime and China’s refugee policy.
The international refugee protection regime Refugees have existed throughout history, but only at the beginning of the 20th century did the international community take the first steps to institutionalize refugee protection. The first legal and institutional initiatives to protect refugees were undertaken by the League of Nations after World War I; and the exceptionally high numbers of displaced people in Europe after World War II finally triggered the development of the international refugee regime in the mid-20th century. In 1951 the Convention Relating to the Status of Refugees (‘the Refugee Convention’ hereafter) was adopted by the UN and is to date the centrepiece of international refugee protection. It was amended only once in the form of the Protocol Relating to the Status of Refugees (1967) (‘the Protocol’ hereafter), which removed the geographical and temporal limits of the Refugee Convention. Article 4 of the Refugee Convention defines a refugee as ‘someone who is unable to or unwilling to return to their country of origin owing to a well-founded fear of being prosecuted for reasons of race, religion, nationality, membership of a particular social group, or political opinion’. It also establishes two families of norms that make up the core of the refugee protection regime – provision of asylum and burden sharing. Burden sharing implies that the costs of granting asylum are distributed from a host state to a larger group of states. The Refugee Convention contains a detailed account of the legal status of refugees in the country of asylum, their rights, and the host states’ obligations. Several fundamental principles underpin the Refugee Convention, such as non-refoulement, non-discrimination, and non-penalization. The principle of non-refoulement suggests that states should not expel or return refugees against their will to
China and the refugee dilemma 157 a territory where they face threats to life or freedom. The Refugee Convention stipulates that refugees should be free from any sort of discrimination and any penalty for their illegal entry or stay. The host state should not only respect these principles but also make sure that the rights of refugees granted by the Refugee Convention, such as access to courts, freedom of movement, etc., are respected in its territory. It is important to point out that people who have moved across an international border in search of protection under the Refugee Convention do not automatically get refugee status. They have to apply for it and before the credibility of their claims is determined, they are labelled as asylum seekers. Therefore, there needs to be a national mechanism and legal acts to conduct this procedure, or, alternatively, the documentation could be issued by an international authority, such as the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR). Finally, states are obliged to cooperate with the UNHCR in the exercise of its functions and in facilitating its duty of supervising the application of the Refugee Convention. The Refugee Convention briefly mentions burden sharing in Paragraph 4 of the Preamble, which says that ‘the grant of asylum may place unduly heavy burdens on certain countries, and that a satisfactory solution of a problem of which the United Nations has recognized the international scope and nature cannot therefore be achieved without international cooperation’. Burden sharing implies the following sorts of action: financial assistance or material aid to the countries of asylum mainly through funding the activities of the UNHCR and through ‘physical’ burden sharing, such as the dispersal of refugees among states. The amount of contributions an individual state has to provide is not regulated and the money can be donated for specified countries, programmes, and activities, or not. As for physical burden sharing, the UNHCR runs resettlement programmes, which help refugees resettle from the first country of asylum to a third country. The number of states taking part in the UNHCR’s resettlement programme, as well as the scope of resettlement, has been growing. Still, for example, in 2017 only 35 countries were accepting UNHCR resettlement submissions and only 65,108 refugees were resettled (UNHCR, 2018c). The centrepiece of the international refugee protection regime’s institutional framework is the UNHCR, which was established in 1951 by the resolution of the Fifth United Nations General Assembly (GA) in 1950 and is subordinate to the GA and the UN Economic and Social Council (ECOSOC). The Statute of the Office of the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (1950) defines responsibilities of the UNHCR as providing state-like protection for refugees by promoting ratification of refugee law and supervising its application, collecting information about refugees, cooperating with governments and NGOs, and coordinating refugee-related programmes. However, there are two major obstacles for the UNHCR to fulfil its tasks: limited resources and the principle of state sovereignty, as the UNHCR needs access to and the consent of the country of asylum. In 1958 the ECOSOC also established the Executive Committee of the Programme of the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (the ExCom), which is a subsidiary organ of the GA whose representatives are elected by the
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ECOSOC ‘on the widest possible geographical basis from those States with a demonstrated interest in, and devotion to, the solution of the refugee problem’ (UN Economic and Social Council, 1958). So, the criteria for becoming a member are quite loose. The ExCom, as the only specialized multilateral forum, is responsible for setting international standards and objectives on refugee protection, but it has been criticized for ineffectiveness and a failure to provide meaningful international guidance (Loescher, 2014). Overall, there is no supervisory body within the international refugee protection regime that could review state performance and there is no provision in the Convention or the UNHCR Statute about a mechanism that could be used to enforce state compliance with the norms and obligations taken within the 1951 Convention. The Refugee Convention does not establish an international refugee court and provides that only contracting parties – states but not the UNHCR – can bring a dispute to the International Court of Justice. To sum up, the major legal acts within the international refugee protection regime are the Refugee Convention and the Protocol. The international refugee regime includes two families of norms – provision of asylum and burden sharing, with the former enjoying a stronger legal framework. It is important to keep in mind that the understanding of legal norms and the practice of their implementation have evolved. For example, the definition of ‘refugee’ in the Refugee Convention has been criticized as out-dated for not covering all possible reasons that make people leave their country of origin and seek asylum (Türk & Dowd, 2014). Finally, the centrepiece of the regime’s institutional framework is the UNHCR, which lacks mechanisms to enforce compliance with the refugee protection norms.
Norm diffusion theory and international refugee protection norms As defined by Finnemore and Sikkink (1998), norms are ‘standards of appropriate behaviour for actors with a given identity’. States choose to comply with international norms due to different reasons and there are different mechanisms of norm diffusion. Certain mechanisms are typical for certain contexts and certain norms. For example, coercion works in cases when there is conditionality within the normative regime: states have to comply with norms in order to get certain resources, e.g., membership in the WTO. However, this is not the case for the refugee protection regime, which does not have exclusive membership or other types of conditionality. For the analysis of the international refugee protection norms internalization, the spiral model of human rights diffusion developed by Risse and Sikkink (1999) is of particular relevance. According to their model, three mechanisms are necessary for internalization of human rights norms. The first mechanism, called ‘strategic adaptation,’ denotes a process where states adapt their behaviour in order to meet strategic or material goals, for example, to receive foreign aid or to get membership in international organizations. States adjust policies
China and the refugee dilemma 159 irrespective of discursive practices and beliefs about the validity of the adopted norms. The UNHCR has two major incentives to motivate states to comply with the refugee protection norms – material rewards and reputational benefits. Being part of the UN system, the UNHCR has used its status to socialize new independent Asian and African states into the refugee protection regime, as the latter wanted to become part of the international community and to increase legitimacy of their regimes at home and abroad. For states experiencing arrival of refugees, cooperation with the UNHCR means material benefits such as financial aid, technical assistance, and training, so they are more likely to adapt to its normative pressure for instrumental reasons (Loescher, 2014). At the same time, the institutional component of the international refugee protection regime does not have restrictive membership, so there is no way to negotiate norm compliance when states want to join. The first mechanism is typical for earlier stages of socialization and is often accompanied by the second mechanism – ‘moral-consciousness raising, argumentation, and persuasion’.1 The second mechanism refers to cases when adjustments to international norms take place because a norm-violating state is persuaded that international norms are valid and norm-violating behaviour is inappropriate. For this mechanism, state identity is important because ‘[w]hat I find morally appropriate depends to some degree on who I am and how I see myself’, so state identity has an impact on a state’s attitude towards certain norms and susceptibility to international normative pressure (Risse & Sikkink, 1999: 13). Neither identities nor interests are given, but rather are the result of social interactions. In particular, the most powerful actors within the international system shape state identity and interests by ‘defining what the modern, liberal, Arab, etc. state should look like’ (Gurowitz, 2006: 309). The indicators of state identity are ‘ideas about the nature and purpose of a particular system of rule’, which can be found in a variety of sources, such as ‘legal documents and constitutions, administrative rules and regulations, and other documents’, as well as ‘statements made by public officials, in the writings of opinion leaders, and in portrayals of the state and nation in government publications’ (Gurowitz, 2006: 311). For persuasion to take place, domestic and transnational actors, states, and international organizations have to produce discourse and argue for compliance with the norms. They can use a variety of methods to challenge norm-violating states such as shaming, isolating, and embarrassing the target state in order to show that a state’s behaviour contradicts its identity (Risse & Sikkink, 1999). States are also more likely to be persuaded to comply with international norms when they experience a new issue or face a crisis (Gurowitz, 2006: 331). At the same time, norms that contradict domestic culture of socializing states are less likely to be internalized. Finally, the last mechanism of socialization is habitualization and institutionalization. It refers to compliance with norms when these norms are taken for granted and implemented without deliberation about their moral validity and ‘independently from the moral consciousness of actors’ (Risse & Sikkink, 1999: 17).
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According to the spiral model, states go through five phases from repression to norm compliance. The process, however, could be reversed due to lack of incentives and pressure. From stage to stage not only legislation, institutions, and policies change, but also discourse undergoes transformation. The fact that a state has to defend and explain its behaviour signals that the socialization process has started. When the state no longer questions moral validity of norms, persuasion and shaming are particularly effective (Risse & Sikkink, 1999). The upcoming sections of this chapter explore how three socialization mechanisms have worked in China’s case. The impact of international norms on the evolution of the PRC’s refugee policy is explored on four levels: legal norms, state institutions, policy implementation, and discourse. It is argued that the ability of international law to have an impact on the PRC’s refugee policy has depended on its interest in material and strategic benefits tied to compliance with the refugee protection norms, as well as ability of international actors, transnational advocacy groups, and domestic civil society to produce a moral discourse tied to China’s state identity.
The PRC’s refugee policy in the 1980s and the beginning of China’s socialization The PRC first cooperated with the UNHCR in the early 1950s to resettle European refugees after World War II from China to third countries. However, from the 1950s to the 1970s it was excluded from the international refugee protection regime, mainly because until 1971 Taiwan, or the Republic of China, was the sole representative of China in the UN and refugee rights in China hardly attracted any attention from the international community. During the same period, China received Malayan–Chinese and Indonesian–Chinese refugees fleeing persecution and anti-Chinese hostilities in Southeast Asia. These groups of forced migrants were settled in overseas Chinese farms2 together with other returned diasporic Chinese descendants and were categorized as returnees or refugee–returnees. So, ethnic affinity was used to explain the preferential treatment and support they received from the Chinese government (Ho, 2012). From 1978 onward China successively received and provided protection to over 260,000 Indochinese refugees, the majority of whom were from Vietnam. In order to get assistance with their resettlement, in 1979 China signed a project agreement with the UNHCR, thus recognizing the refugee status of Indochinese migrants. Indochinese refugees were transported from the border area and provided with accommodation and employment mainly in overseas Chinese farms (Ministry of Foreign Affairs of the People’s Republic of China, 2003). Some refugees were resettled in third countries and some Laotians were voluntarily repatriated to Laos (UNHCR, 1999). Thanks to the direct involvement of the Chinese government and continued assistance of the UNHCR, this refugee integration programme was considered highly successful. The only concern of the UNHCR is that, despite the successful integration, the group has still not been naturalized and does not hold Chinese citizenship (Song, 2007), though they are
China and the refugee dilemma 161 entitled to identity cards, a household registration, and access to social insurance schemes.3 In 1982 the PRC signed both the Refugee Convention and the Protocol. The UNHCR office was opened in Beijing even earlier – in 1980 – and in 1997 was upgraded to the status of Regional Office covering mainland China, Hong Kong, and Macau (UNHCR, 1999). However, the ratification of the Refugee Convention did not lead to the adoption of a national refugee law and the institutionalization of a refugee status determination mechanism. The Constitution of the PRC adopted in 1982 only mentioned the provision of asylum for political reasons, which reflected the political dynamics of the Cold War rivalry. Article 15 of the Law of the People’s Republic of China on Control of the Entry and Exit of Aliens from 1985 merely stated that ‘aliens who seek asylum for political reasons shall be permitted to reside in China upon approval by the competent authorities of the Chinese Government’. Other types of asylum seekers, which should be protected according to the Refugee Convention, were not mentioned. Neither have implementing regulations been adopted nor any special centralized agency created to deal with refugee issues. The UNHCR became and has been responsible for registration, refugee status determination, assistance, and finding durable solutions for refugees arriving in China. The decision to channel the task of refugee status determination to the UNHCR has allowed China to avoid criticism for low recognition rates or a slow determination process. Why did China categorize Indochinese migrants as refugees, generously assist them, and accede to the Refugee Convention but neither adopted a national refugee law nor established relevant institutions? Socialization in the international refugee protection regime at that point carried certain benefits for Beijing, so this was the case of strategic adaptation. First, Beijing’s positive response to the arrival of refugees from Vietnam correlated with the deterioration of Sino-Vietnamese relations to its lowest point in 1979 (Choi, 2017). The generous acceptance of Vietnamese refugees was very much in line with the Cold War fashion of using refugees to condemn the regime of the enemy. Additionally, the majority of refugees fleeing Vietnam were of Han Chinese origin, which contributed to the PRC’s decision to host them. Second, when the Indochinese refugee crisis happened, China had just started the ‘reform and opening up’ policy and was actively integrating into the international system. The PRC got its membership in the UN in 1971 and by the 1980s had joined the major UN bodies. Apart from the Refugee Convention and the Protocol, in the 1980s China also signed and ratified a number of other human rights treaties. So, another contributing factor to China’s socialization was its strive for legitimacy and desire to be part of the international community. Finally, the influx of refugees was a significant burden for the PRC as a developing country, and therefore, external assistance was important. The UNHCR projects targeted at Indochinese refugees in China were implemented for 20 years (1979–1999) and ‘the cumulative aid from the UNHCR amounted to over US$90 million and its projects numbered over 600, benefiting more than 90% of the Indo-Chinese refugees in China to varying degrees’ (Ministry of Foreign Affairs
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of the People’s Republic of China, 2003). With the help of the UNHCR China was able to not only provide assistance to Indochinese refugees but also maintain its domestic stability. During the early stage of socialization, China was motivated by material gains, such as aid and assistance from the UNHCR, and overall foreign policy goals, which explains the decision to sign both the Convention Relating to the Status of Refugees and the supplemental Protocol in 1982. China’s assistance to Indochinese refugees, just like assistance to dissidents from the Eastern bloc in the Western countries, was in line with a global trend when national context and foreign policy defined what groups of people were accepted as refugees. With the development of China’s economy and absence of other benefits, the first socialization mechanism was no longer working in China’s case. China’s own civil society was only starting to develop and international and transnational actors had not yet become interested in the promotion of human rights in China. The incentives for compliance disappeared and persuasion had not started yet; hence the socialization process was stopped or even reversed.
The PRC’s refugee policy evolution from the 1990s to the 2010s Since the Indochinese refugee crisis, major border crossings of asylum seekers into China have been from North Korea and Myanmar. North Korean asylum seekers have been arriving in China since 1995–1996, the famine years in North Korea. There is no reliable data about the number of North Korean asylum seekers and, for example, in 2004 the estimates ranged from 10,000 to 300,000 (Malinowski, 2004). Although China has turned a blind eye to the large numbers of North Koreans residing in its territory without proper documentation, their rights granted by the Refugee Convention have not been protected. Beijing has forcibly returned tens of thousands over the past two decades allegedly due to security concerns and its obligations within the Mutual Cooperation Protocol for the Work of Maintaining National Security and Social Order and the Border Areas signed in 1986 by the PRC and the DPRK, which stipulates that illegal border crossers should be sent back to their home country. The UNHCR’s access to refugees from the DPRK has been restricted, and they have not had a chance to apply for refugee status in China and obtain protection as defined by the Refugee Convention (Choi, 2017). While not all of the incoming North Koreans might have been eligible for the refugee status, according to the Refugee Convention this should have been determined by the UNHCR, as China has not institutionalized a refugee status determination mechanism. In the early 2000s there were many cases, when North Korean asylum seekers in China entered or tried to enter the office of the UNHCR or embassies and consulates of European states, the United States, South Korea, and Japan in order to ask for asylum and protection. These cases became an embarrassment for China and refugees that managed to enter were usually allowed to leave China for a third country (Del Mundo, 2001). On the one hand, these decisions can be seen as concessions. On the other hand, they did not bring any significant policy change
China and the refugee dilemma 163 and Beijing even tightened security in the diplomatic compounds and in the border areas. Since the late 2000s, China has also been experiencing the arrival of refugees from Myanmar due to armed conflicts between the central government and two ethnic minority groups – Kokang and Kachin, which are concentrated along the border with China. There have been three major arrivals of Kokang refugees, in 2009, 2015, and 2017. In 2009 between 10,000 and 30,000 refugees fled from Myanmar’s northeastern Shan State to China’s Yunnan Province (UNHCR, 2009). The Chinese government provided the asylum seekers from Myanmar with shelter, aid, and medical help, and they returned to Myanmar as soon as the crisis calmed down. In February 2015, about 50,000 Kokang refugees escaped to China and were provided with emergency shelter, but in March there were already reports that they were forced back to the conflict-affected territory (Khin, 2015). In 2017 it was reported that 20,000 Kokang fled to Yunnan Province, where the Chinese government set up refugee camps for them (Pomfret, 2017). 7,000 to 10,000 ethnic Kachin refugees from Myanmar entered southwestern China in June 2011 after fighting broke out between Myanmar government troops and rebels in Kachin state. According to a report by Human Rights Watch, some Kachin asylum seekers were denied entry, and those allowed on Chinese territory did not get proper protection and assistance. They were subject to abuse and detentions, and in 2012 about 5,000 Kachin refugees were sent back to Myanmar. The Chinese government inhibited the UNHCR from assisting them and denied access to the border area (Human Rights Watch, 2012). In comparison with North Korean refugees, there was some progress in the reception of Kokang refugees, who are ethnically Chinese. Deportations and lack of assistance can be explained by the importance of the bilateral relationship with Myanmar and security concerns. Apart from the above-mentioned groups of refugees, there also have been a small number of refugees coming to China from distant states in the Middle East, Africa, and South Asia. Arriving in China on business or student visas, they apply for refugee status at the UNHCR office in Beijing. For example, in 2016 the UNHCR assisted 158 refugees or people in a refugee-like situation, received 552 applications from asylum seekers, recognized 45 individual applications, rejected or otherwise closed 516 applications, and resettled 37 refugees (UNHCR, 2017b). Beijing has acknowledged the status of the UNHCR refugees and has allowed them to stay in China until a durable solution, usually resettlement, has been found by the UNHCR. In one case in 2008 about 15 refugees assisted by the UNHCR were deported from the PRC just before the Olympics in Beijing, allegedly due to security concerns (Nebehay, 2008). Despite ongoing violations of international refugee protection norms, since the beginning of the 2010s China has undertaken small improvements in its asylum policy. First, in 2013 the Chinese government allowed refugee children in five provinces to attend public schools at the primary level together with local children (Tan, 2013a). Moreover, in July 2013 the Exit and Entry Administration Law of the People’s Republic of China (Standing Committee of the National People’s
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Congress, 2012), which was adopted in June 2012 (‘Exit-Entry Law’ hereafter), came into force. Its Article 46 states that foreigners applying for refugee status may, during the screening process, stay in China on the strength of temporary identity certificates issued by public security organs; foreigners who are recognized as refugees may stay or reside in China on the strength of refugee identity certificates issued by public security organs. The new law granted refugees and asylum seekers a right to stay in China and established which institutions are responsible for the issuance of documents. However, before asylum seekers apply for refugee status at the UNHCR office in Beijing, they are not protected and are subject to the same laws as all other foreigners. Until recently, several government institutions have been responsible for refugee matters. However, in April 2018, as part of State Council reforms, a new immigration bureau – the State Immigration Administration (SIA) – was set up under the Ministry of Public Security (MPS). The new administration is responsible for the immigration policy of the PRC. It not only merges the refugee-related functions, which were formerly controlled by various divisions of the MPS, but also has the same functions (international cooperation in the migration sphere) as the Ministry of Foreign Affairs (MFA). The MFA is still involved in refugee-related matters. It cooperates with the UNHCR and other countries on problems of forced migration, as well as comments on Beijing’s policy towards refugees and global migration crises. The Ministry of Civil Affairs continues to be responsible for the management of Indochinese refugees. However, with the establishment of the SIA a single decision-making centre in the field of migration policy has appeared. As for burden sharing, China has not joined the UNHCR resettlement programme, but starting from 2012 China’s total contribution to the UNHCR and the proportion of restricted contributions4 within it has been increasing. Restricted contributions allow China to link donations to its foreign policy priorities. For example, in 2016, 2017, and 2018 China’s total donations to the UNHCR were $2.8 million, $11.1 million and $1.2 million, respectively, out of which $800,000 were unrestricted (UNHCR, 2018a). For comparison, between 2000 and 2011 China’s annual donation to the UNHCR budget was only $250,000 in unrestricted contributions except for three years – 2001, 2002, and 2008, when it also made restricted contributions (UNHCR, 2019). However, China’s donations are still relatively insignificant in comparison to other donors, as the country ranked 47th by its contribution per capita in 2017 (UNHCR, 2018a). Nevertheless, at the UN GA on 17 December 2018, the PRC was among 181 states that voted for the adoption of the Global Compact on Refugees, which provides a framework for more predictable and equitable burden sharing in the sphere of refugee protection, but is not legally binding (UN News, 2018). Apart from donations to the UNHCR, China has also provided material and financial aid directly to the countries that suffer from the inflow and outflow of refugees and through other multilateral cooperation initiatives, such as the United Nations Development Programme, the World Food Program, and the International
China and the refugee dilemma 165 Organization for Migration. Moreover, in 2016 the PRC launched the South-South Cooperation Assistance Fund to promote the implementation of the 2030 Agenda for Sustainable Development and to help developing countries with economic and social challenges, including refugee movements (Ministry of Foreign Affairs of the People’s Republic of China, 2017). Aid is usually used as a policy instrument to stimulate political friendships and facilitate China’s political agenda at multilateral fora. Between 2007 and 2018, the biggest contribution of $400 million was granted in 2007 to Pakistan, which is often called China’s ‘all-weather friend’, to facilitate assistance to refugees from Afghanistan. The second largest – $100 million – was made to Afghanistan in 2017 to assist the return of refugees (Xinhua, 2017a). Additionally, Beijing’s contribution to refugee programmes increased in 2017 on the sidelines of the Belt and Road Forum (Xinhua, 2017b). In 2017 China also became engaged in the settlement of the Rohingya refugee crisis, when Foreign Minister Wang Yi visited both Myanmar and Bangladesh and announced a three-phase plan, which included ceasefire, repatriation, and poverty alleviation (Foreign Ministry of the People’s Republic of China, 2017). Concerning the discourse on international refugee protection norms, Chinese officials have often expressed support of the international refugee protection regime, stressed the importance of the UNHCR, and highlighted the positive results of cooperation between the High Commissioner and Beijing. China provided explanations for refugee protection norm violations, its selective approach, and the different treatment of forced migrants by assigning them to different categories. Refugees from Indochina of Chinese origin have been labelled both refugees (nanmin) and ethnic Chinese refugees (nanqiao, guinanqiao) belonging to a larger group of returned overseas Chinese, which enjoy special rights under the Law of the People’s Republic of China on the Protection of the Rights and Interests of Returned Overseas Chinese and the Family Members of Overseas Chinese (1990). As for North Korean asylum seekers, China’s official position holds that they should not be considered refugees according to international standards because most of them flee to China for economic reasons. Instead, they are called illegal immigrants or defectors (feifayimin, feifarujingzhe, pantaozhe) that should be penalized and deported (e.g. in Ren, 2017). Chinese officials and the state-controlled press often avoid the term refugees and call asylum seekers from Myanmar border residents (bianmin) instead (Qiu et al, 2015). In June 2012 when asked to comment on reports that Myanmar refugees were denied entry in Yunnan, Foreign Affairs Spokesperson Hong Lei said that due to fighting in Myanmar some border residents came to Yunnan to visit their relatives (Consulate General of the People’s Republic of China in San Francisco, 2011). In 2015, he said during a press conference of the MFA that 60,000 border residents entered China due to security concerns (People.cn, 2015). China has a bilateral border management treaty with Myanmar, which establishes a more relaxed entry–exit procedure for residents of the border areas, who can get a special pass to cross the border (Agreement Between the Government of the People’s Republic of China and the Government of the Union of Myanmar on China-Myanmar Border Areas Management and Cooperation, 1997). Although some of the refugees indeed might have had this pass, it is very unlikely that Chinese officials were able to
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check their documents. Moreover, as argued by Song (2017), these two statuses – border resident and refugee – are not mutually exclusive. China’s participation in international cooperation on refugee issues is also often discussed in the light of its status in the international system. For example, in 2016 at the 71st United Nations General Assembly in New York on refugees and migrants, Chinese Premier Li Keqiang pledged $100 million in refugee aid but at the same time stressed that China is a developing country which can only ‘shoulder the responsibility that is suitable to its capacity’ (Zhao & He, 2016). In 2017 Xinhua’s (2017c) report about China’s donation to refugees in Cameroon called China the biggest developing country (zuidade fazhanzhong guojia), which attaches high importance to the refugee and migration problem and has actively participated in its resolution. China has also criticized abuses of refugee norms and actions of Western media and governments, which have been accused of hypocrisy with references to their imperialist history. For example, in March 2014 during the annual China-Australia Human Rights Dialogue, Li Baodong from the MFA criticized Australia’s refugee policy, in particular, the treatment of asylum seekers and children (McDonell, 2014). Ai (2018), in a Global Times’ editorial, linked the Rohingya crisis to ‘historical conflicts left by the West’s colonialism in the region and the spread of terrorism’, and criticized Western countries for inaction, foreign investors for unwillingness to invest in Myanmar, and the Western press for bias and for politicizing the issue. The author added that ‘[w]hile Western media are busy denouncing the Myanmar government, China is making an effort to help the nation ease the crisis’, ‘pushing forward in this region to shake off poverty – enabling both Bangladesh and Myanmar to concentrate their energies on economic development’ (Ai, 2018). Until now China continues to be a norm-violating state and is far from full compliance with international refugee norms. Its national legislation is silent on who qualifies as a refugee, and it neither distinguishes refugees and asylum seekers from other migrants nor establishes the procedures of refugee status determination. In practice, only a small group of asylum seekers is able to apply for refugee status and even refugees, whose status was recognized, do not have all rights as stipulated by the Refugee Convention and the Protocol. China has on many occasions violated the major principle of the Refugee Convention – ‘nonrefoulement’ – by deporting refugees back to their countries of origin. However, international refugee law has had a visible impact on China’s refugee policy, as it ratified the Refugee Convention, hosts the UNHCR office, provides annual contributions to its budget, and included an article about refugees in its Exit-Entry Law, etc. Also, since the beginning of the 2010s China has undertaken small improvements in its asylum policy and has become more engaged in burden-sharing initiatives. Deflection of criticism through articulation of its own vision and alternative explanations is a sign of ongoing socialization.
Explaining China’s socialization to refugee protection norms in the 1990–2010s Why has socialization not been more successful and how can we explain the changes occurring since the early 2010s? Risse and Sikkink (1999) have argued
China and the refugee dilemma 167 that socialization, which in the beginning is driven by expected material and strategic benefits, later continues due to reasons of belief and identity. Socialization takes place through moral discourse ‘communication, argumentation, and persuasion’ around international norm validity and expected behaviour of a state with a certain identity (Risse & Sikkink, 1999: 13). The success of socialization depends on the pressure both from domestic and international levels, as well as on the fit between international norms and local normative context. International refugee protection norms originated in Europe and are based on the ideas of human rights, which are a contested notion in China. The international refugee regime challenges the traditional notion of state sovereignty, as by admitting the refugee status of a foreign national those granting it make a statement about internal matters of another country. China has always emphasized the importance of non-intervention in internal affairs of other states as a centrepiece of its foreign policy. Therefore, it is reluctant to comply with refugee protection norms related to provision of asylum. An exception is likely to be made for foreign citizens of Chinese descent, who are often portrayed as an ‘extension’ of the Chinese nation, enjoying much attention of the PRC government and its preferential policies (Han, 2017). Intergovernmental cooperation in refugee protection in East and Southeast Asia is almost non-existent. Apart from the non-binding Bangkok Principles on the Status and Treatment of Refugees, developed in 1966 by the Asian African Legal Consultative Organization,5 of which China is a member, other initiatives, such as the Bali Process on People Smuggling, Trafficking in Persons and Related Transnational Crime,6 focus mostly on irregular population movements. China has also participated in the Asia-Pacific Consultations on Refugees, Displaced Persons and Migrants7 and the Seminars on Irregular Migration and Migrant Trafficking in East and South East Asia known as the Manila Process,8 both of which are no longer active. As for transnational civil society, the major organization at the regional level is the Asia Pacific Refugee Rights Network,9 but among the 340 civil society organizations in the network there are no NGOs from Mainland China. Although there is little information about domestic NGOs based in Beijing or big cities, there are some NGOs operating in the border areas helping asylum seekers from North Korea and Myanmar, but they have not been engaged in lobbying for changes in the refugee policy (Human Rights Watch, 2012). Hence, the normative pressure on China has come mainly from the UNHCR, Western governments, and foreign NGOs, such as Human Rights Watch and NGOs supporting the rights of North Koreans. The violation of refugee norms in China became widely noticed in 1998, when South Korean civil society groups made public North Korea’s cruel punishment of people deported by China (Liu, 2003). The concern for North Korean refugees was voiced in public statements of and interviews with the High Commissioner, publications on the UNHCR website, and during the ExCom sessions (UNHCR Executive Committee, 2003; UNHCR, 2014). For example, in September 2003 the High Commissioner Ruud Lubbers ‘expressed deep concern’ ‘over the plight of North Korean defectors in China and their unprotected human rights’, who might
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be eligible for refugee status and the UNHCR’s protection and ‘should not be forced to go back’ (BBC Monitoring Asia Pacific, 2003). The United States and the EU have used more critical language to describe the situation of North Korean refugees in China. In the North Korean Human Rights Act of 2004 (NKHRA), which was adopted in the United States in 2004 and reauthorized in 2008, 2012, and 2017, it is written that ‘[t]he Government of the People’s Republic of China’s forcible repatriation of North Korean refugees violates its obligation to uphold the principle of non-refoulement, under the United Nations Convention Relating to the Status of Refugees’. The European parliament mentioned the problem of North Korean refugees in China in all six resolutions on the situation in North Korea, adopted between 2006 and 2016. South Korea has seldom publicly criticized or confronted China and protested publicly only once in 2012, when South Korea’s parliament passed a resolution demanding that China stop deportation of North Korean refugees (BBC, 2012). However, South Korean human rights activists have held a series of protests in front of the PRC’s embassy in Seoul (Chou, 2012). Apart from the plight of North Koreans, the UNHCR recommended many times that the Chinese government adopt national refugee legislation, establish a government institution in charge of refugee matters, and naturalize the Indochinese refugees (UNHCR, 2013). As for the Myanmar refugee crisis, in 2009 the UNHCR called on Chinese authorities to allow access to Myanmar refugees (UNHCR, 2009). The statements in 2012 were more critical, as China returned refugees to the area of ongoing conflict (UNHCR, 2012). As noted earlier the UNHCR does not have any mechanism of norm compliance control and coercion. According to Article III of the Agreement on the Upgrading of the UNHCR Mission in the People’s Republic of China to UNHCR branch in the People’s Republic of China (1995), the staff of UNHCR ‘may at all times have unimpeded access to refugees’. As the UNHCR is denied access to refugees from North Korea and Myanmar, it has been encouraged by civil society groups to initiate arbitration based on the Article XVI of the UNHCR Mission Agreement, which gives the High Commissioner such an opportunity (Kenkichi, Peters & Kim, 2002). However, the UNHCR has never used this right, which can be explained by the fear of only worsening its relations with Beijing (Song, 2018). As shown in the previous section, in the 2000s criticism and pressure did not produce very much normative change in China. According to the theoretical assumptions outlined earlier, persuasion can only be successful when appeals for norm compliance are linked to state identity. China has never assumed an identity of a liberal state and has had a complicated relationship with human rights norms. Therefore, criticism failed to produce significant change in compliance. Moreover, undertaking changes under pressure from abroad can be seen as a sign of weakness and undermine regime legitimacy and stability (Wachman, 2001). Despite the negative impact on China’s international image, China often did the contrary to what it was asked when international pressure was too strong. For example, some North Korean asylum seekers, who managed to enter diplomatic embassies in Beijing and attracted a lot of attention, had to stay there for several
China and the refugee dilemma 169 years until they were allowed to resettle (Padden, 2016). Finally, international shaming and criticism were not accompanied by pressure from the domestic level, which is important for continuous socialization. Nevertheless, some practices, such as donations to the UNHCR and the acknowledgement of refugees recognized by the UNHCR office in Beijing, were kept despite the absence of material interests and substantial identity change. This can be seen as an example of habitualization, when norm validity is no longer discussed and taken for granted. During the 2010s the topics of North Korean refugees and national refugee legislation in China have become less prominent in public statements of the UNHCR. Instead, the major focus shifted towards the greater role that China should play in refugee crises management. In 2013 commenting on his visit to Beijing, High Commissioner Antonio Guterres said that China was a key global player, expressed his willingness ‘to upgrade the cooperation between UNHCR and China’ and vowed ‘to enhance dialogue with the government on how to resolve and prevent displacement around the world’ (Tan, 2013b). In 2017 neither refugees from North Korea or Myanmar nor a refugee law were mentioned in the press release about High Commissioner Filippo Grandi’s visit to China, which mainly praised China’s increasing contribution and developmental efforts (UNHCR, 2017a). During the General Debate at the 5th Meeting, 68th session of the ExCom in October 2017 Grandi encouraged the PRC to increase its role as partner, donor, and adviser, as well as praised the Belt and Road Initiative (UNHCR Executive Committee, 2017). Not only the UNHCR but also European politicians have asked China to increase its engagement in burden-sharing initiatives. For example, there have been appeals by German politicians – among them Chancellor Angela Merkel and German ambassador to Beijing, Michael Clauss – to contribute to the refugee protection and the UNHCR activities (Delfs & Donahue, 2015; Wu & Zhen, 2015). From the beginning of the 2010s persuasion to comply with international refugee norms and to engage in burden sharing has been based on the argument that China is becoming a global player and a reliable and responsible member of the international community. The status of a great power implies that a state not only has outstanding material capabilities but also plays a prominent role in international relations and should act upon both its rights and responsibilities. For example, Xi Jinping (2015) said in his keynote speech at the Boao Forum for Asia Annual Conference in 2015 that ‘[b]eing a big country means shouldering greater responsibilities for regional and world peace and development’. Although Beijing has responded cautiously to appeals to increase China’s contribution by saying that China is a developing country and only could provide aid within its capabilities (Zhao & He, 2016), it becomes harder and harder to make such argumentation sound persuasive. Identity change and the ensuing change in interests can already be observed in the rhetoric of Chinese officials. In 2016 the Chinese ambassador to the UK, Liu Xiaoming (2016), published an article in The Telegraph titled ‘China Will Play a Greater Part in a World Shared by All’. In the Chinese press and academic
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articles China’s refugee policy is often discussed in the light of its changing international status (e.g. in Liu, 2015). Liu Guofu – an expert in migration policy and professor at the Beijing Institute of Technology – wrote in the Global Times that China as a rising power has to address the refugee problem and fulfil its international obligations (Liu, 2012). Associate Professor Ren Hongsheng (2017) from the China University of Political Science and Law argued that as the international community’s expectations of China’s global responsibilities are increasing, the PRC has to develop an adequate refugee policy, establish a mechanism to handle this issue, and take a leading role in regional refugee cooperation. Two other Chinese scholars from Huaqiao University – Huang Rihan and Li Congyu (2017) – noted that the refugee problem could become a new focus of China’s Middle East diplomacy. They argued that China should continue providing assistance to countries suffering from the influx of refugees in the Middle East in order to improve China’s image and promote its leadership in the region. Since the 2010s, the argumentation in favour of norm compliance has changed and reflects China’s changing international identity, which is supposed to stimulate diffusion of norms. The most significant change happened in China’s engagement in burden-sharing initiatives because they are important for China’s new international identity and do not contradict the principle of sovereignty.
Is China challenging existing norms? Rising powers are expected not only to be more active in global governance and in the provision of global public goods but also to undermine existing norms. Is China challenging existing norms within the refugee protection regime and suggesting any alternatives? First, Chinese officials have contributed to discussions about the definition of ‘refugee’ and have argued for a narrow interpretation of the definition from the Refugee Convention. One of the major arguments developed under pressure to assist North Korean refugees was that people fleeing their country due to economic hardships cannot be considered refugees despite the risks of torture and persecution upon return. Chinese Foreign Minister Wang Yi also argued that refugees are not migrants who want to leave their country of origin permanently.10 Instead, refugees would like to return to their home country and, therefore, it is important to create appropriate conditions so that they could go back (China Daily, 2017). Second, based on such an understanding of refugees, Chinese officials have argued against resettlement practice and in favour of repatriation, which they say should be encouraged by the international community and preceded by creating appropriate conditions in the country of the refugees’ origin (China Daily, 2017). While in general repatriation has become more often practised by the UNHCR and is one of the durable solutions to refugee issues (Barnett, 2001), China’s own practice of forcing refugees from Myanmar back to the conflict-ridden territory without ensuring their safety raises certain concerns. Third, China has also tried to shift the focus of international cooperation in the field of refugee protection from domestic politics in countries of origin of
China and the refugee dilemma 171 refugees. China’s representatives have argued many times against politicization of refugee protection mechanisms and for the respect of state sovereignty (UNHCR Executive Committee, 2012). China does not elaborate on its appeals to avoid politicization of the refugee regime, but it usually implies that domestic politics of a refugee-producing country should not have an impact on international responses to the crisis. Such appeals can be seen as a tactic to protect its authoritarian allies and their domestic affairs, but the international refugee protection regime indeed is notorious for certain biases (Goodwin-Gill, 2014). One of the major themes in China’s official discourse about the current refugee crisis is the need to address the root causes of the problem, such as unbalanced development, poverty, and armed conflicts. The idea that development would help settle refugee problems has been used to support China’s own foreign policy initiatives, such as the Belt and Road Initiative and projects in Africa (La, 2016). Poverty alleviation indeed might have a positive impact, but emphasis on foreign investments, which can be unsustainable, and job creation as a way to resolve a refugee crisis appears to be an oversimplification of the refugee problem. Finally, China has also tried to lobby for interests of developing countries. At the meeting of the ExCom in 2013 China ‘supported the internal reform of the UNHCR and encouraged it to increase the geographical representation of its personnel in order to enhance its representativeness’ (UNHCR Executive Committee, 2013). Beijing has also argued that not only countries producing an outflow of refugees but also developing countries that host significant refugee populations should be provided with financial and developmental assistance (UNHCR Executive Committee, 2016). To sum up, China has joined the debate over less well-institutionalized and ambiguous norms and practices, which were notorious for certain biases. The ideas and arguments that Chinese officials use are neither new nor significantly different from opinions that have become popular in Western countries. Emphasis on development and non-politicization is a typical feature of China’s foreign policy and is likely to be welcomed by many developing countries suffering from refugee problems. Oversimplification of refugee issues and China’s preference for repatriation over resettlement, which in certain cases is the only durable solution, threaten the security of refugees.
Conclusion International refugee law has had a visible impact on China’s refugee policy on four levels – legal norms, state institutions, refugee policy implementation, and discourse. China ratified the Refugee Convention and the Protocol, hosts the UNHCR office, recognizes refugees protected by the UNHCR, and provides annual contributions to its budget, and has included articles on refugees in its new Exit-Entry Law, etc. China has also, on many occasions, expressed support of the international refugee protection regime and tried to deflect criticism through articulation of its own vision and alternative explanations. It actively contributes to the global dialogue over definitions, norms, and practices related to that regime,
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thus taking part in a discussion of critical issues that stretches across the world. However, China is a norm-violating state and stands far from full compliance with international refugee norms, while its contribution to burden-sharing initiatives is relatively modest. Moreover, there is no one universal refugee policy in China, as different groups of forced migrants have received very different treatment. As there are contradictions between refugee protection norms and China’s domestic normative context and no mechanism to punish China, the ability of international law to have an impact on the PRC’s refugee policy has depended on Beijing’s interest in material and strategic benefits tied to compliance with the refugee protection norms, as well as the ability of international actors, transnational advocacy groups, and domestic civil society to produce moral discourse tied to China’s state identity. In the 1980s, China was motivated by material gains, such as aid and assistance from the UNHCR, and international legitimacy concerns, which explains the decision to sign in 1982 both the Refugee Convention and the Protocol and start cooperation with the UNHCR. With the development of China’s economy and the absence of other instrumental benefits, the first socialization mechanism – strategic adaptation – no longer worked in China’s case. Some practices, such as donations to the UNHCR and acknowledgement of refugees recognized by the UNHCR office in Beijing, were kept due to habitualization despite the absence of material interests or identity change. In the 2000s and early 2010s, treatment of Korean and Myanmar refugees in China attracted international criticism and pressure. Shaming and persuasion failed to produce much normative change in China, because appeals for norm compliance were not linked to China’s state identity. From the beginning of the 2010s, instead of criticism and accusations of treaty violations, international actors have started to use different tactics to engage China. Persuasion to comply with international refugee norms and engage in burden sharing has been based on the argument that China is becoming a global player and a reliable and responsible member of the international community. Chinese officials share the idea that China’s identity has changed and its portion of responsibility has grown, which is supposed to stimulate diffusion of refugee protection norms, and since the early 2010s China’s refugee policy indeed has undergone some positive changes.
Notes 1 Sikkink and Risse use the term ‘socialization’ to describe a process by which norms are internalized and implemented domestically, not to denote a particular mechanism of norm diffusion. 2 Overseas Chinese farms are settlements established by the Chinese government between the 1950s and 1970s in undeveloped farmland mainly in the southern provinces of the PRC. They were created in order to accommodate ethnic Chinese that either came to the PRC voluntarily in the 1950s or were forced out of their home countries in Southeast Asia between the 1950s and 1970s. 3 See http://news.ifeng.com/a/20160718/49370582_0.shtml (accessed 26 July 2019). 4 Restricted contributions (also known as earmarked contributions) to the UNHCR are donations received by the UNHCR which can be used only for a specific country,
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location, population, or programme. Unrestricted contributions (also known as unearmarked) mean that the donor does not put any restrictions on the use of funds. The Asian African Legal Consultative Organization is an intergovernmental organization formed in 1956 as an outgrowth of the Bandung Conference. Its aim is to serve as an advisory board to member states and as a platform for dialogue and cooperation in the field of international law. The Bali Process on People Smuggling, Trafficking in Persons and Related Transnational Crime is an international forum established in 2002 for policy dialogue, information sharing, and practical cooperation to address the mentioned issues. The Asia-Pacific Consultations on Refugees, Displaced Persons and Migrants is an intergovernmental regional forum initiated by the Australian government in 1996 and UNHCR in order to discuss refugees and displaced persons and migration in general in the Asia-Pacific. The Manila Process is an intergovernmental regional forum initiated by the International Organization for Migration in Manila in 1996, where representatives of East and Southeast Asian states meet to discuss such issues as irregular migration, trafficking, smuggling, migration management, border control, etc. The Asia Pacific Refugee Rights Network is an open network, which was established in 2008 and consists of civil society organizations and individuals that are engaged in advancing refugee rights in the Asia-Pacific region. The PRC also stressed that there must be a strict distinction between refugees and migrants during the discussions on the Global Compact for Safe, Orderly and Regular Migration. See https://refugeesmigrants.un.org/sites/default/files/china_ts2_p2.pdf (accessed 15 April 2020).
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9
The reform of Chinese migration law and the protection of migrants’ rights1 Björn Ahl and Pilar-Paz Czoske
Introduction With the adoption of the 2012 Exit-Entry Administration Law of the People’s Republic of China (NPCSC; in the following: Exit-Entry Administration Law) implementing legislation and institutional changes, the Chinese migration law regime underwent fundamental reformation. Streamlined application procedures that are available online and clarified competences have increased efficiency whereas the classification scheme of different categories of foreign nationals has enhanced transparency. This chapter outlines the development of Chinese legislation governing foreign nationals and the changes in the overall legal framework. Further, we will analyze the level of protection of rights of foreign nationals in the area of labour law and legal remedies against measures taken on the basis of the Exit-Entry Administration Law. We argue that recent reforms have been more symbolic than functional and that the protection of rights of migrants has not been significantly improved by recent reforms. The Chinese legislator has taken into account foreign immigration law, in particular legal regulations of typical immigration countries such as Australia or Canada. However, such legal transfer appears to be rather superficial, as the effects of new legal regulation do not deviate substantially from the effects of the previous legal framework. With regard to international law, China has not ratified the Convention on the Protection of the Rights of Migrant Workers (United Nations 1990) and does not model the protection of labour rights of foreign nationals on the equal treatment principle as it is embodied in the Convention. However, China voted for the Global Compact for Migration (United Nations 2018) after being actively involved in its drafting process and further committing itself in this context to improve national migration legislation (Li 2018).
Development of legislation governing foreign nationals The continuing growth of the economy, the transition to an urban and servicebased economy that demands highly skilled labour, and demographic trends lead to labour shortages that in turn fuel flows of international migration to China (Pieke 2012; Centre for China and Globalization 2017: 5). Further, strict immigration
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policies in Europe and North America have caused immigrants to discover alternative destinations in the developing world (Lan 2015: 291). Apart from labour shortages in certain sections of the economy and shifting destination preferences of economic-stream migrants, the global trend to hunt for ‘super talent’ and the endeavour of China to enhance its soft power contribute to the gradual shift of immigration law and policies (Shachar and Hirschl 2013; Ding and Koslowski 2017: 109–110). After the founding of the People’s Republic of China (PRC) in 1949, the government implemented a strict control system of exit and entry of foreign nationals and closely monitored their activities in the country. The strict separation of foreign nationals from the local population in daily life facilitated close monitoring of foreign nationals, who had to use a specific surrogate currency to make purchases in China and had to present an exit visa in order to be allowed to leave the PRC. The government only permitted a tiny number of foreign nationals to stay who supported the Communist regime (Brady 2003: 80–84). During the 1990s many restrictions such as the strict separation of places of work and residence of foreign and Chinese nationals were lifted. With the increased influx of immigrants after the WTO accession in 2001, negative images of foreign nationals started to appear in Chinese media discourses, in particular on immigrants of African origin, which were revealing xenophobic sentiments and connecting them to crime and terrorism (Zhou, Shenasi and Xu 2016: 156, 158). African traders in Guangzhou became a focal point for discussing migrants as a source of crime and social unrest. In 2009 Africans took to the streets in Guangzhou to protest alleged police brutality (Bork-Hüffner and Yuan-Ihle 2014: 584). Further incidents involving African immigrants in Guangzhou increased the pressure on the local government to redesign their policies of managing foreign nationals. The Chinese government began to implement a restrictive visa policy in preparation for the Olympic Games in 2008, which mainly affected short-term business and travel stays. The number of visas issued decreased, applications for multiple-entry visas were denied, and the scope of documents that had to be submitted for visa applications increased (Bork-Hüffner and Yuan-Ihle 2014: 577). Official rhetoric has shifted from a general focus on strictly controlling foreign nationals to a more differentiated approach that emphasized both the attraction of foreign talents and the crackdown on so-called ‘Three Illegals’ foreigners (Bork-Hüffner and Yuan-Ihle 2014: 577).2 This appears to respond to findings that native populations have reacted to increased immigration that lacks sufficient state control with xenophobic, social, and political movements (Hollifield, Martin and Orrenius 2014: 3, 5, 26). When public sentiment demands stricter immigration policies, a clear preference for foreign ‘super talent’ signals that the state firmly controls the access of migrants to the country (Shachar and Hirschl 2013: 86). As after 1949 only a small number of foreign nationals entered or resided in China who did not cause much public attention or social conflict, enhanced legal regulation was not regarded as necessary.3 The laws on entry and stay of foreigners dated from the 1980s and contained only rudimentary guidance focusing
The reform of Chinese migration law 181 primarily on ‘foreign experts’ who would make their expertise available in certain narrowly defined areas and only stay in the country for short periods of time.4 Administrative procedures for obtaining work and resident permits were detailed in administrative rules and regulations. Depending on the specific purpose of stay of foreign nationals, different agencies were responsible for processing applications, namely, the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, the Ministry of Public Security, and the Ministry of Human Resources and Social Security, in addition to their respective entities on local levels. The given legal framework, in particular inefficient procedures and scattered competences, proved to be inadequate to deal with rising numbers of immigrants entering China after the WTO accession in 2001 (Ding and Koslowski 2017: 105). According to the 2010 census, 593,832 foreign nationals resided in China, which accounted for only 0.05% of the overall national population.5 The adoption of the Exit-Entry Administration Law was the first attempt to modernize migration legislation on the national level (Liu 2014; NPCSC 2012). The law did not provide for groundbreaking detailed regulations on migration. However, it incorporated earlier reforms such as the permanent residence scheme of 20046 (MPS and MFA 2004) and constituted a broad legal framework for the implementation of new policies for talent attraction. While the Exit-Entry Administration Law attempts to make access to the country for highly skilled migrants easier, penalties for illegal stay or work have been increased. Foreign nationals who have been repatriated or deported due to illegal activities are now barred from re-entry for a period of up to ten years (NPCSC 2012: Art. 81). Hence, the new Exit-Entry Administration Law facilitates the entry and stay of high-skilled professionals as well as stricter control of foreign nationals who do not fulfil those criteria. Foreigners coming just for leisure visits to China were not the main targets of the new law.
Visa, work, and resident permit application procedures Legal residence of foreign nationals for work purposes requires obtaining a number of approvals from different authorities and the active participation of the employer in the application procedure. So far, there is no single permit scheme allowing for entry, stay, and work in China. The three different permits build on each other, as a valid visa is a precondition for issuing a work permit. Further, a visa for employment purposes and a work permit are preconditions for issuing a residence permit. However, different administrative bodies issue each permit separately. Visa and work permit application Visas are issued by the Chinese overseas missions under the Ministry of Foreign Affairs (MFA) in the country of residence of the applicant (SAFEA 2017). In order to obtain a work visa (Z-visa), foreign nationals have to submit a work permit notice7 and their passport to the relevant Chinese embassy or consulate (MHRSS 2017: Art. 15). The local bureaus of the State Administration of Foreign
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Experts Affairs (SAFEA)8 issue the foreigner’s work permit notice to the prospective employer (SAFEA, MHRSS, MFA, and MPS 2017). SAFEA falls under the sub-ministerial level, previously under the Ministry of Human Resources and Social Security (MHRSS). Since the ministerial-level re-structuring in 2018, SAFEA has been part of the Ministry of Science and Technology. Prior to issuing the work permit notice the employer has to seek approval for the employment of a foreign national from the administrative authority that is responsible for the branch of the employer’s business, such as the local bureau of the Administration of Industry and Commerce (MHRSS 2017: Art. 11, 12). It is required that the employer’s enterprise is established according to laws, has not been involved in serious crimes, and can pay at least the relevant minimum wage to foreign employees.9 The administrative authority that is responsible for the branch of the employer’s business has the power to determine whether a labour-market need exists for employing a foreign national (SAFEA 2017: para. 7). However, in practice, employers are not required to provide proof that they are unable to hire a Chinese national for a specific job and none of the involved administrative bodies would conduct any other form of labour-market test (interview with an expert of a private visa service agency in Shanghai in July 2017). The approval of the responsible authority is then forwarded to the local bureau of SAFEA, which takes it into consideration for its decision. The new Exit-Entry Administration Law and the State Council Regulations on the Entry and Exit of Foreign Nationals attempts to increase China’s attractiveness for highly skilled foreign nationals by introducing a new visa category of talent visas (R-visa) (NPCSC 2012: Art. 16 (3); State Council 2013: Art. 6 No. 9). The main benefits of this new visa type compared to the normal work visa (Z-visa) are that R-visas are issued for up to five years and allow for multiple entries with a stay of up to 180 days each, whereas Z-visas only allow for one entry and require holders to apply for a resident permit within 30 days of arrival (MPS 2015: Art. 8 (1) No. 5). Foreign nationals who apply for a talent visa (R-visa) must fulfil the conditions stipulated by the relevant ministries of the State Council, such as those determined in the regulations on the ‘Thousand Talents Plan’10 (State Council 2013: Art. 7 (9)). Employers have to submit the foreign national to the relevant talent plan commission for recognition (CPC and MHRSS 2008: Art. 12). The foreign talent plans are state-run recruitment and job placement programmes for high-skilled foreigners that focus mostly on overseas Chinese (CPCSGC 2008). For example, the Ministry of Education initiated the ‘Changjiang Scholars Programme’ in 2011.11 The programme seeks to appoint 200 foreign scholars every year to work in Chinese universities as professors or lecturers for a period of five years (ME 2011: Art. 6). Within 15 days of arrival employees who stay more than 90 days in China have to apply for a work permit (SAFEA 2017: para. 18). Along with the employment work permit notice12 and the visa, the employee has to submit a signed employment contract as well as a medical examination issued by the China Inspection and Quarantine Agency (SAFEA 2017: para. 11–12, 18). Employment contracts with foreigners can be concluded for a period not exceeding five years. The scope
The reform of Chinese migration law 183 of the work permit is limited to the specified profession, the designated employer, and the geographical location of the employer as stipulated in the work permit. If the employee wishes to change the employing unit or exercise a different profession, a new work permit has to be issued. As soon as the labour contract has expired or has been terminated, the work permit is also null and void. However, both the employment contract and the work permit can be extended (MHRSS 2017: Art. 18, 16, 24, 19). In case a foreign national has not established an employment relationship with an employer in China, he or she can enter on an M-visa or F-visa for conducting business or non-business activities for an employer who is based in another country. Further, an employment relationship with an employer in China will not be established if a foreign national acts as the chief representative and executive officer within a Chinese representative office of his or her foreign company. De facto self-employed traders often use this legal vehicle in order to conduct de facto self-employed work in China (Gilles 2015: 32): Self-employment is not a valid ground for a legal stay in China. However, similar activities can be conducted in a legal way if the relevant trader establishes a company in his or her home country and registers a representative office of that company in China. The trader can then work as a representative of the foreign company on a business visa, and neither a work permit nor a formal employment relationship with an employer in China is required. Residence permit and permanent residence permit After obtaining a work permit, foreign nationals have to apply within 30 days of their entry into China to the local Public Security Bureau to obtain their residence permit. The period of validity of the residence permit depends on the validity period of the work permit (MHRSS 2017: Art. 17; SAFEA 2017: para. 26). Employees who stay up to 90 days in China and were not issued a work permit also have to apply for a residence permit (SAFEA 2017: para. 24, 26). As the validity period of the work permit hinges on a valid labour contract and such contract cannot exceed the duration of five years, the Exit-Entry Administration Law consequently stipulates that the maximum validity period of a residence permit is five years (NPCSC 2012: Art. 30 (3)). However, the 2015 Notice Regarding Foreigners Applying for Visas provides that only foreign talents on R-visas can apply for a five-year residence permit. All other foreign nationals can only apply for a residence permit with a validity of up to two years (MPS 2015). However, depending on local regulations, foreign employees who are not considered foreign talents can apply for a five-year residence permit after their initial residence permit has been renewed twice. Upon completing a three-year period, holders of R-visas can apply for permanent residence (HRSSB, REB, and PSB of Shanghai 2015). Whereas issuing a work permit requires the foreign national to qualify under a certain category (as A, B, or C) or qualify under the point system, this categorization is not directly translated into different categories of residence permits.
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So far, the residence permit scheme did not undergo simultaneous reformation. Whereas the responsible ministry for the reform of the work permit system is MHRSS, the MPS has been put expressly in charge of residence permit reforms in a joint CPC Central Committee and State Council document (CPC Central Committee and SCB 2016). In June 2016, the MPS issued Draft Regulations on the Administration of Permanent Residence Permits for Foreigners, which were published for public consultation as specified in Art. 67 (2) PRC Legislation Law (MPS 2016). Currently, the prerequisites of permanent residence are stipulated in Measures for the Administration of Examination and Approval of Foreigners’ Permanent Residence of 2004 (MPS and MFA 2004). Foreign nationals respecting the laws of the PRC, being healthy, having no criminal record and staying in China for at least three months per year are eligible for permanent residence if they fulfil one of the following requirements: they hold direct investments for at least three years, have paid taxes in China according to law, and have (a) invested at least US$500,000 in encouraged business areas, have (b) invested at least US$500,000 in Western or poor regions of China, have (c) invested at least US$S1,000,000 in Central China, or have (d) invested at least US$2,000,000 in any part of China (MPS and MFA 2004: Art. 20, 6, 7). Foreign nationals holding a position of a general or vice general manager for four years or full or assistant professor, or are researchers in a comparable position, and have paid taxes according to law, are eligible for permanent residence if they (1) work for an entity of the Chinese government, (2) work at a Chinese university that receives special public funding, (3) work in an engineering project, enterprise, or social organization encouraged by the state, or (4) work in a foreign enterprise that operates in any encouraged area or work in a highly innovative enterprise. Further, foreign nationals who have made outstanding contributions and are urgently needed in China are eligible for permanent residence (MPS and MFA 2004: Art. 8, 6 (3)). However, the permanent residence scheme has not been very attractive, as it introduced a very high threshold for obtaining permanent resident status and the benefits of this status compared to the status of temporary residents is not sufficiently clear (Liu 2012: 100–101). Consequently, only a small number of foreign nationals were awarded permanent resident status.13 The CPC and State Council document on the reform of the permanent residence scheme emphasizes that access to permanent residence should be made easier and that visible benefits must be attached to permanent residence status (MPS 2016; Chinese Economy Website 2016). Though the Draft Regulations do not expressly relate to the categorization of foreign nationals according to the points system, they apply criteria that are similar to those used by the points system (see below). According to the 2016 Draft Regulations, foreign nationals who made great contributions to the country and are recommended by the State Council, its different departments, or by local governments are entitled to permanent residence. ‘Great contributions to the country’ consist of contributions (1) to the amicable relationship between China and another country, (2) to world peace, (3) to the development of Chinese education, technology, culture, healthcare, or sports
The reform of Chinese migration law 185 areas, (4) or to conducting social work for a long period of time (MPS 2016: Art. 9). Further, those foreign nationals are entitled to permanent residence, (1) whose work is part of national or local talent programmes and who receive a recommendation by the state authority in charge of that talent programme, (2) who possess specifically defined skills and are entitled to permanent residence according to local regulations, (3) who work in schools, universities, research institutions, or innovative enterprises, (4) who are highly skilled engineers and managers working at least four years in China, paying taxes, and having a stable income, (5) who have resided in China for at least four years and their income reaches a specific amount that still has to be specified, (6) who invest a specific amount of total investment in a certain area and hire a specific amount of Chinese employees, or (7) who are Overseas Chinese, hold a PhD or master’s degree, and possess at least four years of working experience or have lived in China for six years while residing for at least six months a year in China. In addition to permanent residence, the 2016 Draft Regulations envisage a long-term residence permit with a five-year validity period. Upon recommendation of their employer, foreign nationals qualify for a long-term residence permit if they (1) hold a talent visa (R-visa), (2) are employed in a free trade zone established by the State Council, (3) are employed by entities, which are included in the list determined at provincial level of encouraged entities or innovative companies,14 or (4) are holders of a PhD (MPS 2016: Art. 10, 11, 13, 15, 12). Issuing long-term residence permits was already tested in Shanghai, Beijing, and Guangzhou. In Shanghai, for example, the Shanghai Expert Bureau, the local Bureau of MHRSS, and the Shanghai Bureau for Public Security jointly issued Trial Measures Corresponding to the Politics of Attracting More High-skilled Foreigners. According to the Trial Measures, foreign talents can apply for a fiveyear residence permit. Talents are defined in line with criteria similar to those that are applied to define A-category foreigners (see below) under the new work permit scheme, such as winners of international awards or participants in talent schemes (HRSSB, REB, and PSB of Shanghai 2015: Art. 2, Annex 1). Spouses and children below the age of 18 of permanent residents are also entitled to permanent residence. Spouses of Chinese nationals who have been married for five years, live in China for nine months a year, and have been continuously residing in China for the past five years are also eligible for permanent residence (MPS and MFA 2004: Art. 6 (4), (5), and (6)). The employer or, if this is not possible, the local bureau of the Ministry of Human Resources and Social Security assists spouses of permanent residence holders in finding jobs (CPC and MHRSS 2008: Art. 18). In contrast, spouses of foreigners who do not hold a permanent residence permit are not entitled to work in China per se (MHRSS 2017: Art. 8).
Selection system for economic-stream immigrants Points systems admit foreign nationals for temporary or permanent settlement without a specific job offer, if they score above a certain threshold. Points systems enable states to accumulate human capital not only for economic growth but
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also for addressing consequences of demographic development, population distribution imbalances, and sociocultural priorities. In demand-driven systems that match immigrants directly with jobs, the employer makes the selection decision. However, employers are not free in making that decision but have to fulfil certain legal criteria such as a labour-market test, for which the employer has to provide proof that the vacant position cannot be filled with candidates from the national labour market (Papademetriou et al., 2008: 9, 3.). The new system for selecting economic-stream immigrants divides foreigners on the grounds of their academic qualification, professional experiences, and income into ‘A’, ‘B’, and ‘C’ foreigners (Ahl, Czoske 2018). The points system supplements the qualification criteria system (SAFEA, MHRSS, MFA, and MPS 2017: Annex 1). Work permits are granted according to the overall political guideline of ‘encouraging high-skilled, controlling skilled and restricting low-skilled foreigners’.15 This slogan translates into a categorization of economic-stream immigrants into high-skilled A-foreigners, skilled B-foreigners, and common C-foreigners. While there is no quota for foreign nationals who qualify for the A- or B-category, for those who fall under the C-category a quota applies that is still to be determined (SAFEA 2017: para. 5). There are two ways to qualify for the A-category. Foreigners can either accumulate at least 85 points under the points system or satisfy directly the criteria for the A-category. Foreign nationals selected for the participation in talent attraction plans directly qualify for the A-category. A list of more than 120 talent plans that have been established with their own specific admission criteria on the state, provincial, and provincial capital levels has been published as an annex to the Categorization Standards.16 Such talent projects include, for instance, the ‘Project on Postdoctoral International Exchange’17 initiated by the MHRSS in 2016 (State Council 2015). According to this project, applicants cannot be older than 35 years and must hold a PhD degree from one of the worldwide 100 best universities according to the Times ranking (Post-Doc Administration Bureau of the MHRSS 2016). Foreign nationals qualify for the A-category if they satisfy specific standards of international recognition in their professional achievements, including holders of awards such as Nobel Prizes in natural sciences or economics. The A-category includes excellent academics, such as members of national science and engineering academies, directors of national institutes and state laboratories, as well as professors from high-ranking academic institutions. If the proposed income of the foreign national reaches six times that of the relevant regional average income (SAFEA 2017: para. 9), the foreign national belongs to the A-category. In practice, the proposed income is the most prominent criteria that will be checked by the relevant local bureau of SAFEA. Only if the applicant does not meet the required income threshold will the other criteria be checked (interview with a visa agent in Shanghai in July 2017). Foreign nationals may either accumulate at least 60 points or fulfil the criteria for qualifying directly as a B-category foreigner. Foreign professional talents fall under the B-category if they hold at least a bachelor’s degree, have obtained at
The reform of Chinese migration law 187 least two years of relevant working experience, are employed in the education, research, news, publishing, culture, arts, healthcare, or sports sectors, or work in China on the basis of an international agreement for an international organization or a multinational company. Foreign nationals who do not fall under categories A or B but fulfil the requirements of the labour market, as well as those of state policies and regulations, are regarded as C-category foreigners. The points system distinguishes between nine categories in which economicstream immigrants can accumulate points. It considers proposed earnings, education, work experience, duration of stay in China per year, language, regional settlement, age, certain criteria relating to work and study experience, and characteristics to be determined at provincial level (SAFEA, MHRSS, MFA, and MPS 2016: Art. 11, 13). The introduction of the points system does not indicate a shift from an employer-led system to a system that is aimed at the exclusive accumulation of human capital as economic-stream immigrants who pass the points test are still required to be in possession of a job offer. Instead, the points system has introduced additional requirements that immigrants have to fulfil besides having a job offer. According to the new selection system, a foreign national aged 26–45, who spends at least nine months per year in China, holds a bachelor’s degree, and has two years of working experience, would need an income of 450,000 RMB in order to accumulate 60 points. Lesser income could be compensated, inter alia, by a higher academic degree, longer working experience or proficiency in Chinese. Further, and this is decisive, foreign nationals qualify directly under the B-category if their income reaches four times the regional average income. For working in Shenzhen, the yearly income of foreign nationals would need to reach 396,576 RMB in order to pass the threshold for a direct qualification as a B-category foreigner.18 Against this background, the introduction of the points system constitutes only an additional, although often not decisive, threshold for prospective immigrants, as there are easier ways to qualify directly under the Aor B-categories than through the points system. Hence, the introduction of the points system appears to be more symbolic than functional. The message embodied in the points system is that the party-state is firmly in control of immigration and only admits foreign ‘super talent’. Moreover, the clear distinction between Aand B-category foreign nationals within the work permit system is not translated into different legal resident statuses or other substantial benefits or privileges of A-category foreigners. So far, the privileges of belonging to the A-category are confined to slightly easier application procedures but not to a substantially better legal position in relation to the B-category. This may well be an unintended reform outcome that is due to the different pace of reform in the area of work permits, of which the MHRSS is in charge, and the area of resident permits, for which the MPS is responsible. The Chinese legislator has modelled the points system on other legal systems of traditional immigration countries, such as Australia and Canada. As the number of actors who engage in the transfer of knowledge on migration law in China is relatively low and migration law experts in the most influential positions are, due to their educational background, most familiar with the Australian legal system,
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Australian migration regulations have most probably played an important role in drafting the Chinese legal rules on the attraction of global talent. However, the point system did rather induce superficial changes, as an employment offer and the amount of the offered income determine the admissibility to the Chinese labour market and not more general criteria for strategically accumulating human capital as is the case in those traditional immigration countries. This is, for example, different from the Australian system, where a part of the immigration quota is reserved for skilled independent visas (Australian Government Department of Home Affairs, 2019).
Protection of rights of immigrants Policies and laws on the status of immigrants highlight efforts towards integration of foreign nationals into Chinese society, convenient and transparent application procedures, as well as legal protection according to the national treatment principle (Jing 2016). The level of protection of labour rights of foreign employees in the practice of Chinese courts serves as an indicator of the effectiveness of the actual protection of the rights of immigrants. The level of legal protection of foreign nationals in China can further be inferred from the legal remedies that are available to challenge measures that authorities take against them on the basis of the Exit-Entry Administration Law. Labour rights The main legislation on the national level that stipulates employees’ rights comprises the PRC Labour Law of 2009, the PRC Labour Contract Law of 2012, and the PRC Labour Dispute Mediation and Arbitration Law of 2007 (NPCSC 2009; NPCSC 2012a; NPCSC 2007). The Regulations on the Administration of Employment of Foreigners in China of 1996 (revised 2017) expressly refers to specific labour rights that are enjoyed by foreign nationals, such as minimum wage standards, working hours, rest hours, and leave entitlements, security and health at the workplace, as well as social security (MHRSS 2017). According to Art. 21 and 22 foreign nationals enjoy those rights pursuant to the relevant national regulations. On the basis of those references in the Foreigners Employment Regulations, commentators have concluded that provisions of Chinese labour laws are only applicable to foreign employees as far as they are expressly referred to in the Foreigners Employment Regulations (King & Wood Mallesons Case Analysis). This view assumes that foreign employees are in a position to negotiate the conditions of their employment contracts as they are highly skilled and earn top salaries, which makes the protections of the Labour Law redundant (King & Wood Mallesons Case Analysis; Wu 2013: 158). This type of high-skilled foreign employee was indeed prevalent during the first two decades of the reform and opening period (Farrer 2014). Pursuant to the Notice of the Shanghai Labour and Social Security Bureau of 1998, employer and foreign employees determine their mutual rights and obligations such as employment period, conditions
The reform of Chinese migration law 189 of terminating the employment relationship, and responsibilities for contract violations in an employment contract (SLB 1998: Art. 16). As the Foreigners Employment Regulations do not refer to the statutory provisions on the protection against unjustified dismissal, compensation payments due to unlawful dismissal, or the employer’s misbehaviour, these protections are not applicable to foreign employees (Li and Ding 2017: 66). With regard to foreign employees without a valid work permit,19 the Supreme People’s Court stipulated in the Judicial Interpretation on Labour Disputes of 2013 that a formal employment relation is not to be recognized if the foreign employee does not hold a valid work permit (SPC 2013: Art. 14). Commentators have noted that the wording of the SPC 2013 Interpretation is construed differently in theory and practice (Wu 2013: 154.). The view that confers the least protection to foreign employees is that according to the SPC 2013 Interpretation, courts have to dismiss claims of foreign employees based on the fact that they did not hold a valid work permit during the time of employment (Yang 2017: 115). A more employee-friendly view recognizes a contractual relationship between employer and foreign employee but denies the application of labour law protections to such a contract (Lin 2011: 85). According to a third view, the SPC 2013 Interpretation treats the legal relationship between the foreign employee without a valid work permit and the employer as a void employment relationship according to labour laws, which grants the most extensive protection to the foreign employee (Zhejiang Labour Arbitration Committee 2009: Chapter 2 No. 4; Guangzhou City Intermediate People’s Court 2008). According to the Labour Contract Law, employees whose labour contracts are void are still entitled to wage payment according to labour laws, at least to the minimum wage for the work already done (Art. 28) and can also claim compensation from the employer if it was the employer’s fault that the labour contract had become void (Art. 86). The claim may also include compensation for not having taken out social security insurance from wages paid during the employment period. Courts in China take different approaches to the question of the applicability of labour law dismissal provisions to employment contracts involving foreign employees. An implicit way of denying the applicability of labour law protections to foreign employees is the application of the general burden of proof rule that requires the claimant to provide proof for the relevant claim, although in labour law cases a reversal of the burden of proof rule applies (NPCSC 2008: Art. 6). When foreign employees could not prove the actual reason of the termination of the contract or could not prove the facts that constitute the unlawfulness of the dismissal, courts dismissed the claims without addressing the question of whether the labour law protections were applicable (People’s Court of Heng Qin New Area of Zhuhai City 2017). Courts in Shanghai held that the provisions on dismissal of the Labour Contract Law do not apply to foreign employees, as the Foreigners Employment Regulations do not refer to those provisions explicitly. The courts argued that in employment relationships with foreign employees it is up to the contracting parties to design their own dismissal scheme (People’s Court
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of Putuo District 2017). Hence, courts refrained from reviewing the legality of dismissals of foreign employees. Overall, there is thus considerable regional divergence with regard to the protection of foreign nationals’ labour rights. Whereas many courts in Shanghai took a less employee-friendly approach, courts in Beijing and Guangzhou interpreted the legal framework in favour of a more comprehensive protection of foreign employees. The legislative framework that governs the employment relations between local employers and foreign employees is still based on the assumption that foreign employees do not need statutory protections of labour rights, as they are in a privileged position with salaries that are several times higher than local average income and enjoy sufficient social security protection that is available in their home countries after they return from relatively short stays in China. As foreign employees often work in less privileged situations than before and stay in China for longer periods of time, the legislative framework appears to have become inappropriate. Courts in certain places such as Shanghai have taken different approaches in interpreting existing legislation and SPC judicial interpretations in favour of foreign employees and have mitigated the discriminatory effects of existing legislation. However, the overall situation is characterized by inconsistent adjudication that puts foreign employees in general into disadvantaged positions if they reside in places such as Shanghai, where courts often adjudicate in favour of local employers and do not confer foreign employees a similar level of protection of labour rights as Chinese employees. Legal remedies against measures taken pursuant to the Exit-Entry Administration Law Pursuant to the Exit-Entry Administration Law state authorities can deny the crossing of the border into China, cancel visas, restrict the freedoms of migrants, as well as deport them to their home countries. The immigration administration is not required to provide reasons for the denial of entry into the PRC and for not issuing a visa to the foreign national (NPCSC 2012: Art, 25 (2)). The decisions of public security organs not to issue or extend a residence permit or not to replace or re-issue a visa or residence permit are final and subject neither to administrative reconsideration nor to administrative litigation (NPCSC 2012: Art. 36). An authoritative interpretation notes that the rights of foreign nationals are only protected according to the Entry-Exit Administration Law after the foreign national has passed the border and entered into China (People’s Public Security University of China Press 2012). This understanding excludes legal remedies against any measures that are taken before the individual has arrived in the PRC. An order to leave the country constitutes an administrative punishment imposed by a public security organ that is subject to administrative reconsideration and litigation. However, repatriation as the act of actual removal of a foreign national is a compulsory measure to enforce the order to leave that can only be subject to reconsideration by the immigration authorities and cannot be reviewed by a court. The same applies to other compulsory measures such as the continued
The reform of Chinese migration law 191 questioning, the detention for investigation, and the restriction of activities of foreign nationals (NPCSC 2012: Art. 64). No legal remedies are available against a decision on the deportation of a foreign national that is taken by the Ministry of Public Security if the foreign national has committed a serious violation of immigration law (NPCSC 2012: Art. 81). In general, the restrictions on legal remedies in Chinese law are in conformity with international human rights instruments and the immigration law practice with other states. According to human rights treaties such as the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights (ICCPR) the expulsion of foreign nationals without access to legal remedies is only allowed in case there exist compelling reasons of national security (United Nations 1966: Art. 13). What is more problematic is that the Exit-Entry Administration Law excludes access to courts in cases where foreign nationals are detained or their freedom of movement is restricted and only provides for administrative reconsideration. This would be a violation of Art. 9 (4) ICCPR and Art. 16 (8) of the International Migrant Workers Convention (ICRMW) that provides for the right to take proceedings before a court in case of deprivation of liberty by arrest or detention (United Nations 1990). Yet, the PRC is not a state party of the ICRMW and has only signed but not ratified the ICCPR. This means that the PRC is legally bound by those international treaties only as far as they reflect customary international law. Legal scholarship did not discuss in detail these international human rights standards, probably because they are not legally binding on the PRC and also because there is only a very small group of experts that engage with migration law issues. Hence, it is difficult to establish whether these standards were discussed in the legislative process and whether party-state actors took a conscious decision against their implementation. It is more realistic to assume that international human rights standards did not play a role in the drafting of the Exit-Entry Administration Law and that no legal transfer took place with regard to human rights standards. Given that fair trial rights of Chinese citizens either do not exist or are not properly implemented in judicial practice, it would appear rather odd if they were provided for foreign citizens.
Conclusion The changes of application procedures and the institutional re-structuring are mostly a result of more general party-state policies such as enhancing e-government mechanisms and making procedures more convenient for applicants and do not necessarily relate to specific re-adjustments of immigration policies. The reform efforts have been largely successful due to more active party involvement and the adoption of relatively detailed party documents that make stipulations that resemble those of legal documents. Although the work permit system has been reformed profoundly, the same depth of reform has not yet been achieved with regard to the resident permit system that is administered by the MPS. The introduction of a hybrid immigrant selection system that combines a points system with other admission schemes and requires a job offer for admission as an economic-stream immigrant follows the global trend to combine parts of a
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government-led accumulation of human capital approach with an employer-led system. The points system provides increased transparency of admission criteria and additional government control over the selection process (Papademetriou et al., 2008: 30). The transparency of admission criteria is crucial for presenting the party-state to the public as being in firm control of immigration. However, the orientation towards meeting real-time market demands appears to be short sighted. The new selection system does not address long-term societal interests, strategic economic aims, and demographic developments. Further, it neither emphasizes aspects of integration of foreigners into society nor provides clear and predictable paths to acquiring permanent residence within a short period of time. As international law that aims at protecting migrant workers acknowledges equal treatment of nationals and non-nationals with regard to the protection against unjustified dismissal as a minimum standard, the Chinese legislator should consider bringing the current legislation into conformity with those basic international standards. China’s active participation in the drafting process and its commitment to support the implementation of the Global Compact on Migration can be seen as an opportunity to continue reforming its legislation on migrants (Liu and Wong, 2019). The current legislation discriminates between both groups of foreign employees, those in a regular situation and those in an irregular situation, in relation to Chinese employees. Although international law does allow such a distinction in general, it does not allow it with regard to remuneration or the protection against unjustified dismissal (United Nations 1990: Art. 25). The rationale behind the protection of the labour rights, even of irregular foreign employees who do not possess a work permit, lies in the fact that it is mainly the employer who benefits from migrant workers in an irregular situation and that denying legal protection to such workers would further benefit such employers. Previously, foreign employees in China mostly belonged to the top-management level and did not require legal protection of their employment-related rights, as they had strong bargaining power and stayed in China for relatively short periods of time. The legislation that is in effect today appears to be still catering to this type of foreign employee. Hence, it seems that this differentiation has been brought about by a change of circumstances, in particular the need of labour protection of foreign employees with less bargaining power, and has not been the intention of the legislator. With regard to the legal remedies that are available to foreign nationals against measures taken on the basis of the Exit-Entry Administration Law, the Chinese legislator generally followed an international legal practice that does not provide migrants with much legal remedies against decisions taken by immigration authorities. Due to a lack of published administrative reconsideration decisions or court decisions, it is difficult to judge how efficient those limited legal remedies are in practice.
Notes 1 Research for this chapter was funded by the German Research Foundation under grant [AH 210/1-1].
The reform of Chinese migration law 193 2 ‘Three Illegals’ (三非) denotes illegal entry, illegal employment, and illegal stay of foreigners in China. 3 In 1978 229,000 foreign nationals entered into China (Liu 2011). 4 Key Regulations that were issued in the 1980s were: National People’s Congress Standing Committee, the Law of Administrating Foreigners Entering into China (外国人入境出境管理法 ), 22.11.1985; State Council, Implementation Details on the Law of Administrating Foreigners Entering into China (外国人入境出境管理法实施细则) 3.12.1986; State Council, Implementation Regulations of the Work of Foreign Cultural Experts (外国文教专家工作实行条例) 10.1980; CPC and State Council, Regulations on Attracting Foreign Experts and Constructing the ‘Four Modernizations’ (关于引进外来智力以利四化建设的决定), 24.08.1983. 5 Foreign nationals were counted for the first time in the 2010 census. National Bureau of Statistics of China (国家统计局), Major Figures on Residents from Hong Kong, Macao, and Taiwan and Foreigners Covered by 2010 Population Census (2010年第 六次全国人口普查接受普查登记的港澳台居民和外籍人员主要数据), 2011, http:/ /www.stats.gov.cn/tjsj/zxfb/201104/t20110429_12708.html. 6 Under the 2004 Permanent Residence Measures, specifically foreign talent, investors and family members of permanent residents were entitled to apply for permanent residence; ‘normal’ foreign employees could apply for ordinary residence permits only. Subsequent regulations aimed to open the issuance of permanent residence permits to a greater number of applicants; however, they were and are still focusing on foreign high-skilled personnel (Ahl, Czoske 2016). 7 Chinese: 外国人工作许可通知. 8 Chinese: 国家外国专家局. 9 Provincial or local governments determine minimum wages. The factors that are taken into account for the calculation of minimum wages include the costs of living of the employees and their dependents, the relevant consumer price index, the employee’s social security contributions, housing funds, the average wage level of the employees in the relevant province or city, the work productivity and the overall employment and economic situation in the relevant region. 10 The ‘Thousand Talents Plan’ was the initial plan launched on a central level to attract foreign high-skilled personnel. Based on this initial ‘Thousand Talents Plan’, new programmes were issued in the years to follow in order to attract a greater number of foreign talents. One of them is the so-called ‘Changjiang Scholars Programme’. 11 Chinese: 长江学者奖励计划. 12 Chinese: 外国人工作许可通知. 13 In 2016 public security authorities granted 1,567 permanent residence permits to foreigners. This constituted an increase of 163% compared to the number of permanent residence permits granted in 2015; Xinhua News (新华社), In 2017 the Ministry of Public Security granted 1,576 Permanent Residences for Foreigners” (公安部2016年共批准1576名外国人在中国永久居留), 6 February 2017. 14 Provincial governments are entitled to issue lists of encouraged entities, meaning a list of business branches where start-ups and newly set up companies are highly demanded. Until now, such lists have, however, not been issued. A model list has been issued for the western parts of China in 2014 by the National Development and Reform Commission (西部地区鼓励类企业目录). 15 Chinese: 鼓励高端,控制一般,限制低端. 16 The list is entitled ‘Standard Explanation on the Recognition of Foreign High-skilled Talents’ and is part of the Preliminary Implementation Plan for the Foreigners’ Work Permit System. 17 Chinese: 博士后国际交流计划引进项目. 18 The monthly average income in Shenzhen amounts to 8,262 RMB for the period between July 2018 and June 2019, Publication of the Shenzhen
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Calculation Standard for the Income for Work Permits of Foreigners in China (深圳外国人来华工作许可工资收入计算标准公布), Shenzhen Evening New (深圳晚报), 27 June 2018. 19 Foreign employees lose their work permit if they change the city of employment or the field in which they work without approval. Furthermore, if an employee holds more than one employment, for the other employments he or she will not possess a valid permit as the law does not allow working for more than one employer. If a Chinese employee takes on a foreign nationality but does not report to Chinese authorities, his or her employment status also becomes illegal.
References Ahl, B. and Czoske, P. (2016) ‘Migration, the law and “One Road, One Belt”’. In L. Wolff and C Xi (eds.) Legal Dimensions of China’s Belt and Road Initiative. Hong Kong: Wolters Kluwer, pp. 393–416. Ahl, B. and Czoske, P. (2018) ‘How China manages economic-stream migration: the new points scheme’. Asian and Pacific Migration Journal, 24, pp. 476–485. Australian Government Department of Home Affairs. (2019) (Subclass 189) Skilled Independent Visa. https://immi.homeaffairs.gov.au/visas/getting-a-visa/visa-listing/skil led-independent-189# Brady, A.M. (2003) Managing Foreigners in the People’s Republic of China. Oxford: Rowman and Littlefield Publishers. Bork-Hüffner, T. and Yuan-Ihle, Y. (2014) ‘The management of foreigners in China: changes to the migration law and regulations during the late Hu-Wen and early Xi-Li eras and their potential effects’. International Journal of Chinese Studies, 5, pp. 571–597. Bureau of the CPC Central Committee and the Bureau of the State Council (SCB). (2016) Opinion on Strengthening the Administration of Permanent Resident Services for Foreigners (关于加强外国人永久居留服务管理的意见). 18 February. Centre for China and Globalization. (2017) Attracting Skilled International Migrants to China: A Review and Comparison of Policies and Practices, International Labour Organization and International Organization for Migration. Chinese Economy Website (中国经济网). (2016) The Ministry of Public Security Explains the Opinion on Strengthening the Administration of Permanent Resident Services for Foreigners (公安部解读加强外国人永久居留服务管理意见). 19 February CPC Central Committee Small Group on the Coordination of Talent Work Opinion on Foreign Talent (CPCSGC). (2008) Attracting Foreign Highly Skilled Talent is the Most Important and Urgent Strategic Task (引进海外高层次人才是一项重大而紧迫的战略任务), Opinion on the Implementation of the Plan of Attracting Foreign Highly Skilled Talent (中央人才工作协调小组关于实施海外高层次人才引进计划的意见). 23 December. CPC and Ministry of Human Resources and Social Security et al. (CPC and MHRSS). (2008)Trial Measures on Attracting Highly Skilled Foreign Talent (引进海外高层次人才暂行办法), date of promulgation not specified. Ding, S. and Koslowski, R., (2017) ‘Chinese soft power and immigration reform: can Beijing’s approach to pursuing global talent and maintaining domestic stability succeed?’. Journal of Chinese Political Science, 22, pp. 97–116. Farrer, J., (2014) ‘China wants you: the social construction of skilled labor in three employment sectors’. Asian and Pacific Migration Journal, 23, pp. 397–420.
The reform of Chinese migration law 195 General Assembly of the United Nations. (2018) Global Compact for Safe, Orderly and Regular Migration. 19 December. Gilles, A., (2015) ‘The social construction of Guangzhou as a translocal trading place’. Journal of Current Chinese Affairs, 44, pp. 17–47. Guangzhou City Intermediate People’s Court. (2008) Summary of the Seminar on Several Issues Concerning Trial of Labour Disputes (广州市中级人民法院关于审理劳动人 事争议案件若干问题的研讨会纪要). 23 June. Hollifield, J., Martin, P. and Orrenius, P. (2014) Controlling Immigration: a Global Perspective. Stanford: Stanford University Press. Jing, C. (2016) ‘(荆长岭), the transformation of the immigration patterns and Chinas reconstruction of the immigration law system: focusing on the high-level immigration system (国际向内移民模式转型与中国向内移民法律机制再构建 -以中国向内高端移 民机制为重点)’. Journal of Political Science and Law (政法学 ), 2, pp. 29–39. King & Wood Mallesons Case Analysis (金杜律师事务所). (2018) Case Analysis of Labour Law Disputes on Foreign Employment (外籍员工劳动争议要点实例分析). Lan, S., (2015) ‘State regulation of undocumented African migrants in China: a multiscalar analysis’. Journal of Asian and African Studies, 50, pp. 289–304. Li, L. (2018) Statement of Ambassador Li Li at the Intergovernmental Conference to Adopt the Global Compact for Safe, Orderly and Regular Migration. 11 December. Li, Z. and Ding, K. (2017) ‘(李哲, 丁可夫), study on legal questions regarding foreigners working in China (外国人在中国就业的法律问题研究)’. Legal System and Society (法制与社会), 7, pp. 66–67. Lin, O. (2011) ‘(林欧), studies on disputes involving foreign employees working in China (在华外国劳动者劳动争议处理问题研究)’. Human Resource Development of China (中国人力资源开发), 7, pp. 83–86. Liu, G. (2011) Chinese Immigration Law. Farnham: Ashgate. Liu, G. (2012) ‘(刘国福), On the legal issues of introducing foreign talents to China (中国引进海外人才法律问题探究)’. Science and Technology Progress and Policy, 29, pp. 97–101. Liu, G., (2014) ‘Legislation, impacts and deficiencies of the law of exit and entry administration of China 2013’. International Journal of Public Law and Policy, 4, pp. 381–392. Liu, G. (2019) ‘(刘国福), Wong, L. (翁里), global compact for migration: key concepts, main features and implications for China (全球移民契约的重要理念、 主要特点及其对中国的启示)’. Overseas Chinese History Studies (华侨华人历史 研究), pp. 1–8. Ministry of Education (ME). (2011) Implementing Measures for the “Changjiang Scholars Programme” (长江学者奖励计划”实施办法). 15 December. Ministry of Public Security (MPS). (2015) Notice Regarding Foreigners Applying for Visas (外国人申请签证证件须知), date not specified. Ministry of Public Security and the Ministry of Foreign Affairs (MPS and MFA) (2004) Regulations on Examination and Approval of Permanent Residence of Foreigners in China (外国人在中国永久居留审批管理办法). 15 August. Ministry of Public Security (MPS). (2016) The Draft of the Regulations on the Administration of Permanent Residence Permits for Foreigners is Promulgated to the Public in Order to Seek the Opinion of the Public (中华人民共和国外国人永久居留管理条例[草案] 向社会公开征求意见). National People’s Congress Standing Committee (NPCSC). (2007) Labour Dispute Mediation and Arbitration Law of the PRC (中华人民共和国劳动争议调解仲裁法). 29 December.
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National People’s Congress Standing Committee (NPCSC 2012a). (2007) Labour Contract Law of the PRC (中华人民共和国劳动合同法). 29 June, revised 28 December 2012. National People’s Congress Standing Committee (NPCSC). (2012) Exit-Entry Administration Law of the People’s Republic of China (中华人民共和国出境入境管理法). 30 June. Papademetriou, D., Somerville, W. and Tanaka, H. (2008) Hybrid Immigration Selection Systems: The Next Generation of Economic Migration Schemes. Washington: Migration Policy Institute. People’s Court of Heng Qin New Area of Zhuhai City. (2017) Labour Dispute, Zhuhai Panthers Latin Football Training Co., Ltd. v. Jose Arlindo Filho, (珠海黑豹拉丁足球 培训有限公司与JoseArlindoFilho劳动争议一审民事判决书). 21 July. People’s Court of Putuo District. (2017) Labour Contract Dispute, Xu Wenqi v. Sheng Cai Medical Equipment (Nan Tong) Co., Ltd. Shanghai Branch, Sheng Cai Medical Equipment (Nan Tong) Co., Ltd., (许文琪与圣采医疗器械(南通)有限公司上海分公 司、圣采医疗器械(南通)有限公司劳动合同纠纷一审民事判决书). 10 November. People’s Public Security University of China Press (中国人民公安大学出版社). (2012) Interpretation of the Exit–Entry Administration Law of the People’s Republic of China (中华人民共和国出境入境管理法释义). Beijing. Pieke, F., (2012) ‘Immigrant China’. Modern China, 38, pp. 40–77. Post-Doc Administration Bureau of the Ministry of Human Resources and Social Security (Post-Doc Administration Bureau of the MHRSS 2016) (人力资源管理处博士后管理办公室). (2016) Notice Regarding the 2016 Selection of the Participants for the ‘Project on Postdoctoral International Exchanges’ (关于遴选2 016年度“博士后国际交流计划”引进项目资助人选的通知). 31 October. Shachar, A. and Hirschl, R., (2013) ‘Recruiting “Super Talent”: the new world of selective migration regimes’. Indiana Journal of Global Legal Studies, 20, pp. 71–107. Shanghai Bureau of Human Resources and Social Security (HRSSB). (2015) Shanghai Foreign Experts Bureau (REB) and Shanghai Public Security Bureau (PSB), Trial Implementation Measures on Serving the Science and Innovation Centre with Global Influence to Implement a More Open Policy of Attracting Foreign Talent (关于服务具 有全球影响力的科技创新中心建设实施更加开放的海外人才引进政策的实施办 法[试行]). 5 August. Shanghai Labour Bureau (SLB). (1998) Notice on Issuing Several Opinions on the Implementation of the Regulations on the Administration of Employment of Foreigners in China (上海市劳动局关于印发《关于贯彻〈外国人在中国就业管理规定〉的 若干意⻅》的通知). April. State Administration of Foreign Experts Affairs. (2016) Ministry of Human Resources and Social Security, Ministry of Foreign Affairs and Ministry of Public Security (SAFEA, MHRSS, MFA and MPS), Trial Version of the Categorization Standards of Foreigners Coming to Work to China (外国人来华工作分类标准[试行]) Issued with the Previous Version of the Preliminary Implementation Plan of the Work Permit System for Foreigners. 27 September. State Administration of Foreign Experts Affairs. (2017) Ministry of Human Resources and Social Security, Ministry of Foreign Affairs and Ministry of Public Security (SAFEA, MHRSS, MFA and MPS), Trial Version of the Points Table (积分要素计分赋值表[试用版]) of the Preliminary Implementation Plan for the Foreigners’ Work Permit System (外国人来华工作许可制度试点实施方案). 28 March, in force since 1 April 2017. State Administration of Foreign Experts Affairs. (2017) Ministry of Human Resources and Social Security, Ministry of Foreign Affairs and Ministry of Public Security (SAFEA, MHRSS, MFA and MPS), Notice on Comprehensively Implementing the System of
The reform of Chinese migration law 197 Work Permits for Foreigners (国家外国专家局人力资源社会保障部外交部公安部 关于全面实施外国人来华工作许可制度的通知). 28 March. State Administration of Foreign Experts Affairs (SAFEA). (2017) Trial Service Guidelines for the Work Permit for Foreigners (外国人来华工作许可服务指南[暂行]). 29 March. State Council. (2013) Regulations of the People’s Republic of China on the Administration of the Entry and Exit of Foreign Nationals (中华人民共和国外国人入境出境管理条例). 12 July. State Council. (2015) Opinion on Reforming and Optimizing the Post-doc System (国务院办公厅关于改革完善博士后制度的意见). 30 November. Supreme People’s Court (SPC). (2013) Interpretation on Several Issues Concerning the Application of Law in the Trial of Labour Dispute Cases (IV) (最高人民法院关于审理 劳动争议案件适用法律若干问题的解释[四]).18 January. United Nations. (1990) International Convention on the Protection of the Rights of All Migrant Workers and Members of Their Families, General Assembly Resolution 45/158, UNGA. 18 December. United Nations. (1966) International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights, GA Res. 2200A (XXI), UNGA.16 December. Wu, W. (2013) ‘(吴文芳), Applicability of labour law for foreign employees in China (我国就业的外国人劳动争议案件适用劳动法之难点)’. Legal Science (法学), 6, pp. 154–160. Yang, H. (2017) ‘(杨浩楠), Studies on labour law protections of foreign nationals without work permit (无就业证之外籍劳工劳动保护问题研究)’. Academic Forum (学术论坛), 2, pp. 114–120. Zhejiang Labour Arbitration Committee. (2009) Guiding Opinions on Several Issues Concerning Labour Disputes (浙江劳动仲裁委关于劳动争议案件处理若干问题指导意见). 21 August 2009. Zhou, M., Shenasi, S. and Xu, T., (2016) ‘Chinese attitudes toward African migrants in Guangzhou, China’. International Journal of Sociology, 46, pp. 141–161.
10 On a steep learning curve in the immigration legislation Taiwan’s proximity to sovereignty, selectivity, and benevolence Isabelle Cheng A migration state: Sovereignty, selectivity, and benevolence The frequent movements of labour, commodities, services, and ideas crossing state borders are the embodiment of globalization; a ‘migration state’ (Hollifield 2004) is a derived result that poses challenges to the nation-state’s sovereignty. A ‘migration state’ is caught in the contradicting interests between economic openness and political closure (2004: 193). This trading-cum-garrison state has to constantly amend immigration governance in order to select those migrants who contribute to economic development by their labour, services, or investment but reject those who are perceived as posing a danger to public finances, health, or security. In this regard, being a major destination for labour and marriage migration in East Asia that received 719,749 foreign workers (MoL 2018) and 537,452 foreign-born spouses (NIA 2018) as of June 2018, Taiwan is no different than other neighbouring migration states in East Asia. However, practices undertaken by Taiwan to balance economic openness and political closure are particularly formulated in ways that enable Taiwan to deal with an uncommon challenge: her internationally contested sovereignty. A migration state, in its prototype, exercises its sovereignty in the hope of improving efficiency. In reverse, Taiwan uses its migration governance to prove that it is sovereign (Friedman 2015). When doing so, Taiwan also has to respond to the internal and external pressures from the United States and civil society in order to defend her self-claimed image as a benevolent protector of migrants’ human rights. In this light, Taiwan is on a steep learning curve to fend off contestations to its sovereignty and a benevolent self-image while maintaining its selectivity to ensure the attainment of economic benefits. To demonstrate how Taiwan juggles between these goals, this chapter begins with an overview of Taiwan’s self-closure during the Cold War. Then, it moves on to examine how migration flows to and from Taiwan in the late 1980s sowed the seeds which led to its current system of immigration governance. This historical recount is followed by an analysis on how the refinement of migration governance opened a window of opportunity for Taiwan to re-draw its borders, re-constitute its national community, and reclaim its sovereignty to territories that are under its exclusive and uncontested jurisdiction. This chapter argues that the
On a steep learning curve 199 legal device, instrumental to this re-configuration, is Household Registration. Its enforcement not only technically re-defines the legal status of Overseas Chinese and the citizens of the People’s Republic of China (PRC) but also generates a critical distinction between nationality and citizenship. In total, this contributes to the construction of civic-territorial identity to which citizenship holds the key. The rest of the chapter concentrates on selectivity, the goal of the newly formed migration state of Taiwan. With the benefits of longitudinal survey results, analyzing migration governance concerning family reunion, residency, mobility, and naturalization, this chapter asserts that selectivity, measured by the intersected biases of class, ethnicity, and gender, is pursued by privileging skilled workers and disadvantaging guest workers and migrant spouses. Focusing on Taiwan’s aspiration to benevolence, the last section of this chapter investigates how this bias is reformed after being challenged by the internal force of civil society and the external pressure of the US government. This critical response forms part of the diffusion of human rights norms amongst East Asian states. This chapter concludes that Taiwan’s transition is a journey approaching, rather than arriving at, the destinations of sovereignty, selectivity, and benevolence. This journey is also punctuated by the re-configuration of Taiwanese national identity, which is enmeshed with the necessity of re-formulating citizenship legislation.
An anti-communist bastion closed for migration (with exception) From being an anti-communist bastion closed for migration during the Cold War, Taiwan embarked on its transition to a migration state when the global, neoliberal economic order was on the rise and the Cold War was coming to an end. This transition from self-exclusion to openness was a timely response to the economic liberalization and political democratization on the island. However, this transition could not have taken place had the borders and the people behind them not been redefined. This re-drawing of the borders, in conjunction with the re-configuring of the national community, in effect imbued civic-territorial identity with ethnocultural identity (Brubaker 1996: 30-31) and resulted in a new nation-state. The re-drawing of the borders that began in the early 1990s was necessitated by the pressing need for solving constitutional problems that were a legacy of martial law. In 1950, Taiwan was proclaimed as a War Zone after the Nationalist (Kuomintang, KMT) government of the Republic of China (ROC) were exiled to Taiwan in 1949 after being defeated by the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) in the Civil War. Brought to Taiwan by the refugee government was the Temporary Provisions Effective during the Period of National Mobilisation for the Suppression of Communist Rebellion (henceforth the Temporary Provisions). Promulgated in the mainland in 1948, the Temporary Provisions ensured the integrity of the ROC Constitution and upheld the ROC’s sovereignty claim to mainland China as well as Taiwan. Rendering the exiled ROC in Taiwan a ‘state of exception’ (Schmitt 2011; Agamben 2005), the Temporary Provisions designated the CCP as an unlawful insurgency group and the People’s Republic of China (PRC) as
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a temporary polity. Legitimizing the annihilation of the CCP and PRC by force, the Temporary Provisions ensured the integrity of the ROC Constitution. Thus, although not under the ROC’s effective jurisdiction, the citizens of the PRC were regarded as ROC nationals, and they remain so to this day in spite of the abolishment of the Provisions in 1991 at the initial stage of the constitutional reform (see below). In opposition, the PRC claimed to succeed the ROC’s statehood and territory in 1949 and continues to regard Taiwan as a renegade province to be united by force if necessary. The facade of the ROC’s sovereignty claim to mainland China and the PRC citizens was intact during the Cold War largely due to the implementation of martial law that materialized the exceptional and expedient constitutional order put in place by the Temporary Provisions. When law and order in Taiwan was threatened by the influx of refugees fleeing from the mainland during the Civil War, martial law was announced in Taiwan in 1949 and was ratified in the following year by the Legislative Yuan (MND 1987: 801). Several administrative decrees that regulated the entry into, residency in, and exit of Taiwan were hastily issued by the provincial Taiwanese government in the midst of the Civil War. After the central government’s retreat to Taiwan, these decrees were gradually repackaged into a tight border control regime that enabled the authoritarian government to restrict citizens’ free movement (see below). These administrative decrees had a far-reaching impact on how state borders were drawn. That is, the Province of Taiwan, together with the islands of Penghu, Jinmen, Mazu (under Lianjiang County, Fujian Province), and other smaller islands, were cordoned off from mainland China as the territory where the ROC’s jurisdiction was exclusively exercised. In these decrees, they were aggregated into a designated category of the ‘Taiwan Area’ (taiwan diqu, 臺灣地區) (or the ‘ROC Free Area’ (zhonghua minguo ziyou diqu, 中華民國自由地區), in opposition to the ‘Mainland Area’ (dalu diqu, 大陸地區) under the CCP’s rule. This pragmatic device was later utilized for re-drawing Taiwan’s de facto territory after the lifting of martial law in 1987. Unlike the successive democratic government viewing inbound migration in an economic light, the authoritarian government during the Cold War viewed border-crossing movements with political suspicion. Under martial law, regulated by administrative decrees rather than laws, citizens’ freedom of movement across borders was closely monitored by the government. Without prior written permissions, citizens could not exit or enter Taiwan (MND 1987: 820-821). Such restriction was moderated after the 1970s so as to facilitate overseas study, business travel, or family reunion after Taiwan’s economy took off in the 1970s (MND 1987: 822-823), leading to the opening of overseas travel for leisure in 1978 (MND 1987: 823; Yang 2001: 482, 491). The large number of students pursuing postgraduate degrees, particularly in the United States, not only resulted in a ‘brain drain’ (Chang 1992: 28-32; Wu 1993: 25) but also steadily channelled elites to transnational opposition forces that were concurrently grouping abroad (Chou and Nathan 1987; Lin 2006). Liberalists, leftists, reformists, and Taiwanindependence supporters abroad were denounced by the authoritarian government as communist sympathizers or dissidents ‘influenced by foreign forces’ (MND
On a steep learning curve 201 1987: 807-808). As such, they were either barred from returning to Taiwan or in a de facto exile to escape political persecution. When outbound migration was discouraged, Taiwan was also closed for inbound migration with an exception for Overseas Chinese (huaqiao, 華僑). Their settlement was critically facilitated by the principle of jus sanguinis adopted by the Nationality Law; i.e., the ROC nationality was conferred on anyone who was fathered by an ROC national. First implemented by the Imperial Qing in 1909 (Tsai 1910), this patriarchal device was inherited by the succeeding Republican government for their shared interests in maintaining Chinese diaspora’s ethnocultural bonds with their homeland and soliciting their economic contributions to the national economy (Wu 1991; Dan 2009). These goals were instrumental to the cash-poor and internationally isolated ROC in Taiwan (Kallgren 1964: 644). Embodying the continuation and inclusiveness of the Chinese nation in propaganda campaigns, Overseas Chinese returnees were praised as patriots embracing the homeland, despite that Taiwan proper was not their ancestral home. Such propaganda was part of the competition between the ROC in Taiwan (Free China) and the PRC (Red China) for the legitimate representation of the Chinese nation (Oyen 2010; Han 2017). Under the lax implementation of the Nationality Law, Overseas Chinese could be certified as ROC nationals as long as they provided evidence, such as ROC passports, birth certificates, or other identification documents, which recorded their Chinese ethnicity or their birth to ROC nationals (CY 2010). With an ‘Overseas Chinese Certificate’ that proved their status as laid out above (Wang 2011: 171), if sponsored by a guarantor (baozheng ren, 保證人), they could be offered settlement (dingju, 定居) in the form of Household Registration, which was key to their entitlement to citizenship (Kung 2017). Amongst these Overseas Chinese returnees, there were a small number of Indonesian Chinese women migrating to Taiwan for their marriages mostly with discharged Mainlander servicemen (Cheng 2014), whose marriages were delayed because they were forbidden to marry while serving in the military (Li 1998).
Open for business: An emerging migration state In the late 1980s, in response to the combined forces of economic liberalization, social transformation, and political democratization, the walls of anti-communist ‘Fortress Taiwan’ erected by martial law began to crumble due to increased outbound and inbound movements. Taiwanese investment made its way to Southeast Asia when the decline of the export-oriented labour-intensive industries, the pillar of Taiwan’s ‘developmental state’ (Gold 2015), began to lose international competitiveness due to rising wages, labour shortages, the appreciation of the New Taiwan Dollar, and the growing concerns of environmental degradation caused by industrialization and urbanization (Wei 1991; Wu 1993: 8; Ku 1995; Chen 1996; Chan 1996). Albeit illegal, Taiwanese capital was also lured towards the cheap production factors offered by the newly opened Chinese economy where transnational investments from Taiwan, Hong Kong, and Overseas Chinese in Southeast Asia were en route to build up three ‘economic circles’ in the region (Naughton
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1997; Deng 2000). Contact across the Taiwan Strait rapidly rose after the ban on travelling to China was lifted in November 1987. During the 1990s, some of these initial contacts across the Taiwan Strait and between Taiwan and Southeast Asia joined, or picked up, a growing business of commercial matchmaking for transnational marriages (Jones and Shen 2008). Commercial matchmaking was instrumental for introducing bachelors in Taiwan to the possibility of tying knots with women in Southeast Asia and China (Wang and Chang 2002). This overseas supply met the demand of men in Taiwan who were suffering from a ‘marriage squeeze’ (Akers 1967), which resulted in their seeking of foreign wives because of, allegedly, dim prospects of getting married owing to their advanced age, disability, lower income, lacking education, manual occupation, or rural location. The ‘marriage squeeze’ and its associated industrialization, urbanization, and women’s emancipation was a testimony to Taiwan’s social, economic, and political transformation which began to erode the infrastructure of Taiwan’s authoritarian-cum-developmental state towards the end of the Cold War. Unionists’ demand for welfare provision, elderly Mainlanders’ campaign to return home to China, aboriginal people’s quest for autonomy, women’s ‘awakening’ to gender equality (thanks to their improved education and occupational choices), and the growing awareness of environmental degradation challenged the suppression of citizens’ political and socio-economic rights (Hsiao 1990; Kleingartner and Peng 1991; Stainton 2015; Chu 1996; Tang and Tang 1997; Ho 2003; Minns and Tierney 2003; Ho 2010; Chang 2010). Under such circumstances that seemed underlined by an arresting sense of uncertainty, pursuing a better life in terms of children’s education, social welfare benefits, and law and order began to drive the middle class to migrate to English-speaking countries (Tseng 1997; Chiang 2004, 2008; Gu 2014). In 1995–1996 political instability triggered another wave of emigration, estimated to be 120,000 in number, in the aftermath of the PRC’s missile tests (Wang 2011: 171-173). At the same time, the growing ‘Taiwanese’ identity began to assert itself via popular election results, such as in the mayoral election of Taipei in 1994 (Hsieh, Niou and Paolino 1997) and the presidential election in 1996 (Tien 1996; Rawnsley 1997; Hsieh, Lacy and Niou 1998). Boosting a class-based market for an immigration consulting industry (Tseng 1997), the surge of interest, intention, and capability of emigration was captured by a timely social survey conducted in 1990 by Academia Sinica (Chu 2014a). The results of the survey showed that although the actual number of emigration was unavailable, emigration was perceived as a lifestyle choice (Chu 2014b: 35), a perception underpinned by the fact that it was the younger and better educated middle-class ‘elites’ who desired to pursue a better life abroad (Chu 2014b: 37). In the late 1980s and early 1990s when home-grown sociopolitical and economic transformations were pushing middle-class emigrants to vote with their feet, regional and global economic forces also pulled former emigrants to return. Their academic or professional training, capital, skills, know-how, and networking seemed to be the answer sought by the developmental state of Taiwan for elevating the Taiwanese economy from the lower end of the global value-added
On a steep learning curve 203 chain to a ‘knowledge economy’ where information and communication technologies (ICTs) began to re-write the formula for economic success (Chou and Kirkby 1997; Matthews 1997; Chang and Hsu 1998; Sher and Yang 2005; Liao and Hu 2007). As assets for realizing this strategic restructuring, these returnees were attracted by the good economic performance of their home country (Baruch et al. 2007). They were offered lucrative privileges by the government that were aimed at capitalizing on their entrepreneurship, enabling their technological innovation and caring for their family relocation (Chang 1992: 35-42; Wu 1993: 32, 36; O’Neil 2006). This ‘transaction’ between the migration state and returned emigrants, resulting in Hsinchu Science Park, reversed the earlier ‘brain drain’ to a ‘brain gain’ that was a timely boost to Taiwan’s competitiveness against other Tiger Economies, who were also in a similar quest for reforming their economic portfolio. Another stream of returnees from the United States were attracted not by economic but by political opportunities opened through democratic reform. Democratization sped up after the (then illegal) founding of the Democratic Progressive Party (DPP) in September 1986, the lifting of martial law in July 1987, the death of President Chiang Ching-kuo, and the succession of his deputy Lee Teng-hui in early 1988 (Rubinstein 2015; cf. Cline 1989). Recognized as part of the Third Wave of Democratization (Huntington 1997) including the ending of the Chun Doo-hwan dictatorship in South Korea and the toppling of Ferdinand Marcos by ‘People Power’ in the Philippines, Taiwan’s democratization in the late 1980s coincided with the end of the Cold War in Eastern Europe (Robinson 1991; Jacobs 2007). The flipside of Taiwan’s success in the semi-conductor industry was a labour shortage in the fishing, manufacturing, and construction industries. Partly due to a sharp drop in the birth rate, the labour shortage is also in consequence of a better educated national workforce and their reluctance to seek employment in difficult (kitsui, きつい), dirty (kitanai, 汚い), and dangerous (kiken, 危険) industries (conventionally known as 3D or 3K industries), a demographic change commonly experienced by Tiger Economies (Pang 1992). In the absence of migration governance for the recruitment of foreign labour, the borders of the labour market became porous, given the need for cheap labour to sustain these industries. Thus, employers in the private sector took advantage of the unregulated market and illegally recruited men and women from South Korea, Sri Lanka, Thailand, Indonesia, Malaysia, and the Philippines (including Malaysian Chinese and Filipino Chinese) to work on fishing boats, at factories, in construction sites, or at private homes (Seyla 1992; Tsai 1992). Concurrently, to complete several big-ticket construction projects, the government exempted itself from illegality and, on an ad hoc basis, allowed this external labour supply to be utilized for its infrastructure projects that aimed at improving socio-economic infrastructure (Seyla 1992; Fong 1993; Sills 2007). Equally significant and with the feminization of labour migration into East Asia, the entry of foreign women’s care labour into the private home marked Taiwan’s appearance in the ‘Global Care Chain’ (Hochschild 2000) as a result of the rising female labour participation in Taiwan. The outsourcing of home-based care to Southeast Asian women attested
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to women’s gendered role in that becoming wage earners did not relieve them from their duty as the carer for the family (Cheng 2020). In sum, these cross-border movements of labour, skills, ideas, and capital were part and parcel of the regional and global political economic forces to which Taiwan was responding. To rise to these challenges and benefit from expanded economic opportunities, Fortress Taiwan had to re-organize its constitutional order distorted by martial law and the Temporary Provisions. These pressures gave an additional boost to the birth of migration governance, which would enable Taiwan to facilitate economic openness and mitigate political challenges.
Remaking the nation-state while creating migration governance: Border, nation, and sovereignty The timely and much needed migration governance could not have been brought about were Taiwan not able to ascertain where its territory was. Once its borders were identified, the people behind the borders would also have to be re-constituted, particularly in the wake of an assertive Taiwanese identity. This concurring re-conceptualization of territory and ethno-culture would then lead Taiwan to make a realistic assertion about its sovereignty. The fundamental challenge of how to re-draw the borders was dealt with by the political reform throughout the 1990s, including the adoption of the National Unification Guidelines (henceforth the Guidelines) and the promulgation of the 11 Additional Articles of the Constitution that were finalized in 2005. Preparing for the termination of the Temporary Provisions in 1992, the Guidelines were drafted by an ad hoc, non-constitutional National Unification Council which adopted the Guidelines in February 1991 (later abolished in 2005). Embracing the eventual unification of China as a means for the development of the Chinese nation, the Guidelines defined Taiwan and the Mainland as a political entity equal to one another (duideng de zhengzhi shiti, 對等的政治實體) (AH 2000: 12–49). This equality was a political foundation built for facilitating the growing exchange across the Taiwan Strait since 1987. The remaining task was to realize this political declaration in Taiwan’s legal system. This task was fulfilled by Article 11 of the constitutional amendments, which mandates the government to make a special law to regulate the relationship between the people of the ‘Free Area’ (ROC citizens) and ‘Mainland Area’ (PRC citizens). This mandate saw the promulgation of the Act Governing Relation between the People of the Taiwan Area and the Mainland Area (henceforth the Cross-Strait Act) in 1992. The Cross-Strait Act replaced the ideology-laden term ‘Free Area’ with ‘Taiwan Area’ in opposition to ‘Mainland Area’; it defines the ‘Taiwan Area’ as the territories including Taiwan, Penghu, Jinmen, Mazu, and all other territories where the ROC can effectively and exclusively assert its jurisdiction. During the Cold War, this separation was used to ensure Taiwan’s security by cutting off contact between the two areas; after the reform, it was to recognize the coexistence of the PRC and the ROC. That is, the CCP ceased to be
On a steep learning curve 205 an unlawful insurgent group and became a political entity, controlling territories outside of the ROC’s jurisdiction. Once the borders were re-drawn as such, the composition of citizens could also be clarified when the Taiwanese identity began to rise in the early 1990s. Translated into migration governance, the critical task was to re-construct the legal status of Overseas Chinese and PRC citizens who do not reside in Taiwan. Previously included in the ‘imagined community’ (Anderson 2006) of the Chinese nation, their ethno-cultural ties were particularly prioritized by such phrases as ‘Mainland Compatriots’ (dalu tongbao, 大陸同胞) and ‘Overseas Chinese as the Mother of the (Republican) Revolution’ (hauqiao wei geming zhimu, 華僑為革命之母) (Huang 2011). However, once contact across the strait began to rapidly expand, the stress on ethno-cultural ties between the two gave way to acute security and economic concerns; as the Cold War approached its end, the nationalist discourse which valued the political allegiance of Overseas Chinese towards the ROC became insignificant. More critically, the fact that they did not reside in Taiwan and thus had no civic-territorial link with the island state justified viewing them as an ‘external population’ (NIA 2009: 1), a concept later coined by the National Immigration Agency that also includes foreign nationals and was meant to restrict, if not forestall altogether, their access to citizenship rights. In other words, high on the political agenda of the day was the desire to clearly distinguish nationality and citizenship. In this light, Household Registration (HR) was an existing legal device to distinguish nationality (ethno-cultural bonds between individuals and the state), from citizenship (the substantial rights granted to individuals by the state). This distinction is of particular significance, since Taiwan’s legal system only uses the term of national (guomin, 國民) rather than that of citizen (gongmin, 公民). This is because, by law, nationality does not automatically grant citizenship until a national is permitted by the government to be registered into a household. In other words, HR is the legal threshold that transforms the nominal membership of nationality into a legal status, which entitles one to citizenship rights. It would be less of an issue for birth citizens since, by the Household Registration Law, their household is registered at birth. For the external population, acquiring HR marks their commitment to settlement (dingju, 定居), a key to the growth of civic-territorial links with Taiwan. The 1990s saw the consistent implementation of this legal device into immigration legislation. It was firstly implemented by a decree in 1991 that defined Overseas Chinese as Nationals without Household Registration in the Taiwan Area. The second implementation was the promulgation of the Act Governing Relations between the People of the Taiwan Area and the Mainland Area (henceforth the Cross-Strait Act) in 1992. The Cross-Strait Act stipulates that the People of the Taiwan Area (read ROC citizens) are those who have HR in Taiwan, whereas the People of the Mainland Area (read PRC citizens) are those who have HR in China (LY 1990: 11). To enforce the mutual exclusion of the two categories, ROC citizens are not allowed to acquire HR in China (Article 9, the CrossStrait Act). Likewise, for PRC citizens, their HR in Taiwan is permitted upon the cancellation of their HR in China (Article 17, the Cross-Strait Act). As specified
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by the government, the cancellation of HR in China is analogized to the renunciation of original nationality when foreign nationals apply for naturalization (LY 2003a). The third implementation was the promulgation of the Immigration Act in 1999. Being grouped together as an ‘external population’ by these laws, PRC citizens, Overseas Chinese and foreign nationals are granted HR after they meet various conditions for settlement (dingju, 定居), including residing in Taiwan for a required duration. Considering a migration state’s political cautions against migrant outsiders’ citizenship entitlement, HR has a far-reaching legal impact on the forging of their civic-territorial identity. Once granted, as a legal status fixated to a specific geographical and administrative location, HR is conducive to deepening its holders’ civic-territorial links with Taiwan. This is because it endows them with civil, socio-economic, and political rights, including, amongst others, the rights to education, social benefits, to vote, and to stand for elections. Therefore, underneath the distinction between nationality and citizenship lies the issue of inclusion and integration. Since nationality is granted by jus sanguinis to birth citizens, it is clear that ethno-cultural ties are prioritized for awarding the nominal membership to the national community. When this primordial link is lacking, such as in the case of foreigners, nationality is granted after naturalization, which, amongst other requirements, requires them to reside in Taiwan for a certain duration. While this principle of domicile is commonly adopted around the world for naturalization, it is particularly relevant when it is also applied to PRC citizens and Overseas Chinese. This application conveys the message that, with the Taiwanese identity gradually replacing the Chinese identity, their presumed ethno-cultural ties with Taiwan are insufficient to legitimize their inclusion into the polity. It requires evidence of the growth of their territorial links to admit them as new members. Once admitted, it is expected that their enjoyment of citizenship would also be instrumental for the enhancement of their identification with Taiwan. In sum, throughout the 1990s, the promulgation of the key migration legislation analyzed above created a window of opportunity for Taiwan to renew its sovereignty claim that corresponded to the political reform as well as economic liberalization internally, regionally, and globally. As analyzed above, making this claim was intertwined with the reconstruction of identity and the clarification of citizenship as a result of re-prioritizing ethno-cultural and civic-territorial bonds. Being an integral part of democratization and coinciding with the strengthening of Taiwanese identity, the birth of migration governance became an impetus for Taiwan to ascertain its statehood by re-charting its borders and re-imagining its polity. It asserted that the aggregated territories under the designation of the ‘Taiwan Area’ are now where its jurisdiction is exclusively exerted and the people under this jurisdiction are the members of this newly configured nation. Their birth not only inherits the ethno-cultural lineage rooted in the territory but also endows them with the civic-territorial connections generated by the state. As non-residents, PRC citizens and Overseas Chinese are considered external to, and excluded from, the island polity because of their lack of civic-territorial links with Taiwan. Such separation was achieved by utilizing HR, which holds the
On a steep learning curve 207 key to the tangible rights reserved for citizens. Although these efforts contributed towards the instantiation of Taiwan’s claim to its re-constituted sovereignty, the Constitution’s clinging to the vision of the unification of China reins in the actual scope of its sovereignty claim. The migration legislation and its enforcement are thus described as making ‘sovereignty effects’ (Friedman 2015) to prove the existence of sovereignty. Ironically, this sovereignty is also being characterized as hypocrisy due to the international contestation it receives and the flexibility it demonstrates in response to this contention (Cheng 2017a). In this light, Taiwan is on a journey approaching, rather than reaching, the goal of claiming and exercising its sovereignty.
Selectivity measured by class, ethnicity, and gender: Desired vs. desirable As a latecomer, Taiwan’s transition to a migration state is punctuated by the passing of the Employment Service Act in 1992, the Immigration Act in 1999, and the Foreign Professionals Act in 2017. The three major laws manifest Taiwan’s intention of reaping the fruits of increased labour movement and selecting desired labour available in the region and around the world. By law, foreign workers are dichotomized into two discrete categories. ‘Foreign Persons’ (waiji renshi, 外籍人士) refer to while-collar foreign workers employed for special professions or technical assignments. ‘Foreign Labourers’ (waiji laogong, 外籍勞工) refer to blue-collar workers recruited by the manufacturing, fishing, construction, and care industries. As of June 2018, a total of 29,925 white-collar workers were issued work permits, in contrast to the sum of 689,824 blue-collar labourers, including 437,982 industrial workers and 251,842 care workers (MoL 2018). Skilled professionals and ‘unskilled’ workers alike are purposefully recruited to fill human resource deficiencies found in specific industries and sectors. In that sense, both are desired for their economic input. However, a close look at the government’s Population Policy Guidelines (NDC n.d.), New Southbound Policy (Office of Trade Negotiation 2017) and the policy brief for the draft bill of the Foreign Professional Act (LY 2017) unveils that the contributions made by white-collar and blue-collar workers are perceived very differently. As explained below, such differences highlight the biases of class and ethnicity, held by the state, towards this ‘external population’. The recruitment of skilled professionals is perceived as a matter of urgency given the need for economic restructuring. It is also related to the fact that they are head-hunted by Taiwan’s competitors in the region (Oishi 2014) and that the wages offered by Taiwan in these professions are much lower compared to those offered by its competitors (Rickards 2018). Stipulated by Article 46 of the Employment Service Act, white-collar professionals are investors, entrepreneurs, athletes, coaches, crew of a variety of vessels, teachers of all levels of education in public or private institutions, and people who engage in professional, technical, religious, art, or performance assignments (including Overseas Chinese). Further detailed in the enforcement rules, the targeted foreigners are those who
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invest significantly in Taiwan, who acquire advanced degrees, skills, training, or business networks that are locally unavailable, or who have won distinctive international awards recognizing their expertise or achievements. Increasing their recruitment is said to be beneficial for Taiwan to restructure or improve ICTs, biomedical, pharmaceutical, finance, and service industries. In contrast to the open-door policy for attracting global talent, foreign labourers are restricted to those from Indonesia, Thailand, Vietnam, the Philippines, and Mongolia. These states have entered agreements with Taiwan which allow their workers to seek employment in manufacturing, construction, fishing, and care industries in Taiwan. As a temporary and supplementary input to the national workforce, their employment is controlled by quotas distributed to specified industries or sectors (Article 46, the Employment Service Act).1 Recruitment outside of these allocations is thus illegal and results in criminality for both employers and employees. As of the end of 2017, the great majority of industrial workers (308,198, or 70.36%) are recruited into 3K industries (MoL 2018). The great majority of caregiving workers (236,856 persons, including domestics) are employed at their employers’ homes, with a smaller number hired by nursing institutions (14,973 persons) and social organizations that provide outreach care (13 persons) (MoL 2018). The significant numbers of foreign labourers suggest that they are factually desired. However, conceived as being stricken by rural poverty and attaining limited education and lacking skills, they are not subjectively seen as desirable. This popular (mis)conception has to be further examined, however. The capitalist economy is built on the mutual support between production and reproduction. As pointed out by Troung, ‘[no] production system operates without a reproduction system and it should not be surprising that the globalisation of production is accompanied by its intimate “Other” i.e. reproduction’ (1996: 47). On the production front, the considerable number of industrial workers suggests that they have become critical to the survival of 3K and other industries or sectors. On the reproduction front, foreign caregivers have filled in the gap of care provision critically needed by the aged population now that the ratio of people reaching the age of 65 or older has risen to 14% (MoI 2018). Arguably, the reluctance of local workers to enter this industry is a consequence of the low social status of caregiving work, which is now equated to the underclass Southeast Asian women. The considerable demand for home-based care manifests the preference over family as the unit for care provision. Surveys conducted in the past three decades show that home-based care was not only widely practised but was also perceived as an ideal that is officially endorsed by the Population Policy Guidelines (NDC n.d.). Before the importation of foreign caregivers was legalized, crossgeneration co-habitation was the norm concerning caring for the elderly in Taiwan. Related to this preference was the respondents’ awareness of the lack of the provision of institutional care (Yi 1998b: 83). However, the change of the norm over a decade was noticed in June 2012 when 82.1% of respondents regarded caring for the elderly as a responsibility shared between the state and the family (Yang 2015: 18). Although foreign caregivers are privately hired
On a steep learning curve 209 without government funding, confusingly, their official designation is ‘Social Welfare Foreign Labourers’ (shefu wailao, 社福外勞). Arguably, this is because their importation is permitted by the government and their privately contracted employment has contributed to social well-being. This mindset can be found in legislative debate during a review of the draft bill of the Employment Service Act in 1991. The proponents for importing domestic workers or caregivers argued that their employment would relieve middle-class professional women from their care duties allowing them to pursue waged employment outside of the home so that their labour participation could further contribute to the national economy. This argument may be supported by the fact that women’s labour participation rate in Taiwan slumps significantly amongst the age cohort whose care provision may be most needed by their family members. In 2016, the female labour participation rate in Taiwan amongst the 20–29-year-old cohort was 90.4%, but it dropped to 71.9% amongst the 45–49-year-old cohort. In contrast, in the same year, women of the same age range in France, Germany, and Sweden maintained their participation rates respectively at 85.5, 86.8, and 91.8% (NDC, n.d.b). Arguably, the differences between Taiwan and the three European countries may be a result of the former’s lack of access to publicly funded care provision. In all, foreign labourers are factually ‘desired’ by Taiwan’s post-industrial economy and aged population. Nevertheless, there is a cognitive gap between the perceived desirability and the objective contributions made by foreign labourers and foreign professionals. As explained below, this perception gap is articulated by the migration legislation that governs their legal status and controls their rights and entitlement. The desirability of foreign professionals is partly derived from their scarcity because of their higher cross-border mobility. Thus, in reaction the Foreign Professionals Act passed in 2017 not only accommodates but also facilitates their mobility. That is, they can apply for a ‘job hunting’ visa that allows them to seek employment in Taiwan for up to six months (Article 19). The mobility is more pronounced by the fact that professional workers can apply directly to the Ministry of the Interior, rather than via their employers, for a work permit (Article 8) that allows them to stay in Taiwan for up to five years with the possibility of renewal (Article 7). The residency visa granted to them allows multiple entries. To make Taiwan more attractive to these scarce resources (described by some as ‘phoenix’) (Cheng 2018), the government moderates the regulations of employing foreign domestics for them (the recruitment criteria of foreign domestics are very restrictive for local employers). In this light, located in the semi-periphery of the world system, the Taiwanese government voluntarily acts like a broker and transforms the private home of a foreign professional from the Global North into a hierarchical household served by a migrant woman from the Global South. This household is where the migrant woman in the Global Care Chain (Hochschild 2000) does the ‘dirty work’ for the neoliberal economy (Aguiar and Herod 2006). Related to this class hierarchy, it has also been argued that Caucasian professional workers are socially advantaged by their cultural capital of English speaking and
210 Isabelle Cheng their skin colour (Lan 2011), an ‘ethnic capital’ (Farrer 2014) that is part of the colonial legacy (Hipsher 2008). In stark contrast, foreign labourers are deprived of physical and occupational mobility throughout their employment. Although the opening of Taiwan’s labour market was a result of government-to-government negotiation, the recruitment of foreign workers is conducted by brokering agencies operating at both ends of their migration. The role of the state is to regulate the agencies and migrant workers’ immigration status, an administrative method characterized as ‘governing at a distance’ (Tseng and Wang 2013). Being the interface between the Taiwanese government and the workers (and employers), the agencies deal with all required paperwork and charge the workers and employers for the services provided. In a neoliberalist and exclusionist mentality which regards migrant workers as disposable labour of alien ethnicity, Taiwan’s migration legislation renders them as ‘guest workers’, a system similar to that of Hong Kong, Singapore, South Korea, and Japan (Surak 2013: 97-99; Athukorala 2006). A practice that ensures a guest worker’s lack of geographical and occupational mobility is to deny them entry unless they have secured a contract and a resultant work permit. On their single-entry visa, they are allowed to work in Taiwan for up to two (Industrial Labourers) or three years (Social Welfare Labourers). Between 1992 and 2015, a migrant woman’s pregnancy clearance was one of the required documents for her visa application, as was a medical examination throughout her employment (CY 2017: 29-30). Once entering Taiwan, subject to regular checks by the government, migrant workers have to reside at the address reported to the government, absence from which constitutes criminality and renders them undocumented or ‘runaway’, a derogatory term referring to contract deserters and potential over-stayers. The deprivation of mobility is also ensured by making them unable to apply for a work permit without the consent of their employers. Lacking mobility disadvantages them vis-à-vis their employers (and brokers), who in effect determine whether they can reside and work legally in Taiwan. Under such hostile circumstances, that can be easily abused or exploited by brokers and employers, guest workers’ employment may fall into the category of indentured labour (Lan 2007). Unlike professional workers who are granted multiple-entry visas, migrant workers on single-entry visas cannot leave Taiwan with the exception of caregivers, in cases when their patients need their company to travel out of Taiwan. In between contracts, guest workers have to depart from Taiwan, a requirement that increases the cost of seeking employment in Taiwan. For Industrial Labourers, the interval required by law between two contracts is 40 days; for Social Welfare Labourers, it is one day, a ‘privilege’ granted on the basis that their absence would cause distress to their employers as well as their care recipients (LY 2003b). The disparity of mobility is further pronounced by professional workers’ rights to family reunion and naturalization compared to migrant workers’ ineligibility for both. Professional workers enjoy the right to live a family life with spouses and children, and such a right is extended to sponsor their parents or parents-in-law’s visitation, which is valid for up to one year (Article 13, the Foreign Professionals
On a steep learning curve 211 Act). In contrast, to make sure that guest workers are ‘guests’ and remain temporary, disposable and thus rootless, they have no right to enjoy a family life so that the incentive of staying in Taiwan for reasons other than employment is significantly reduced. This means not only that they migrate without families but also that they cannot sponsor family members’ visits to Taiwan. Before the requirement of regular pregnancy tests was abolished, the deprivation of family life was most strictly enforced by expelling pregnant migrant women from Taiwan, a measure denounced as barbaric by the opponents of this regulation (Cheng and Momesso 2017). Living a family life is conducive for growing roots and nurturing a foreign resident’s sense of belonging and identification with Taiwan. Thus, a professional worker is not only encouraged to apply for permanent residency but can also apply for the same legal status for their spouses and children. If applying for naturalization, justified by their contributions, they may be exempted from renouncing their native nationality. In contrast, Article 5 of the Enforcement Rules of Nationality Law specifically disqualifies guest workers’ residency for citizenship eligibility. The above examination shows how the migration state of Taiwan utilizes migration governance to pursue the goal of selectivity in order to maximize the benefit rendered by the movement of labour, capital, technology, and knowledge. The embracing of professional talent in contrast to the exclusion of guest workers is determined by their perceived desirability that is biased by class and ethnicity. The generous offer for foreign professionals, including the exemption of renunciation of their nationality, not only underlines the migration state’s intent to take advantage of their mobility but also overrules its cautions against including migrant outsiders. The biases of class and ethnicity, as well as of gender, also apply to migrant spouses from China and Southeast Asia. That is, not only are they imagined as being pushed by rural poverty like migrant workers, but they are also said to be pulled by the prospect of ‘marrying up’ by means of bartering themselves into a commoditized marriage brokered by fee-charging matchmakers (Wang and Chang 2002). This perceived commodification either denounces them as materialistic, amoral, or seductive or pathologizes them as victims (Hsia 2007). The former is related to the popular discourse that they are using a disguise of a bogus marriage to gain employment in Taiwan, including working in the sex industry. The latter portrays them either being cheated by unscrupulous brokers, who pair them with unattractive men, or being abused by their allegedly wifebeating husbands, who may also be said to be unemployed, alcoholic, unfaithful, or addicted to gambling. As non-Chinese speakers or being unfamiliar with Taiwanese culture, Chinese and Southeast Asian women are said to be incapable of reproducing quality citizens for enhancing Taiwan’s competitiveness in the global economy (Cheng 2013). Gendered stigma as such abounded when marriage migration reached its peak in the early 2000s and, particularly, when the birth rate of migrant mothers hiked in 2003 when 13.37% of children were born to migrant mothers (MoI 2005; Fan 2006). In short, in this migration state and as wives and mothers, migrant spouses were also evaluated against selectivity
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measured by their contributions to Taiwan’s international competitiveness and nation-building. Their exclusion, as a result of intersected biases of gender, class, and ethnicity, also unveils the self-identity of the host nation of Taiwan, which sees itself as modern, prosperous, and superior. More recently, the equation for evaluating the contributions of migrant spouses’ appeared to change. With the decrease of migrant spouses and mixed children approaching young adulthood, the steady growth of the number of migrant women acquiring citizenship attracted the attention of mainstream political parties. By the time the electorate cast their votes for the 14th President in January 2016, these immigrant-turned-citizens from Southeast Asia and China had represented 1.33% of the total eligible voters (NIA n.d.; CEC 2016). In the realm of electoral politics that popularizes their transnational ties with their home country, Chinese and Southeast Asian migrant spouses are projected in a different light (Cheng et al. 2018). From the beginning, Chinese spouses are stereotyped as a potential political force, who may threaten Taiwan’s sovereignty and de facto independence, due to their Chinese identity and socialist indoctrination. This stigma could be found in the briefing of the draft bill of the Cross-Strait Act submitted to the Legislative Yuan in 1991 (LY 1990: 3). For the state’s security apparatus, Chinese spouses are particularly framed as PRC agents or saboteurs (e.g. Chou 2006). While Chinese women continue to be subject to such sensational electioneering, Southeast Asian women and their children bask in the optimism of the New Southbound Policy which is aimed at strengthening Taiwan’s economic and cultural relationship with her Southeast Asian neighbours. Embraced by the state as a newly discovered political economic asset because of their transnational links, such as their languages, they are expected to be the ambassadors between Taiwan and their country of origin, although a decade ago the same transnational links were the source of their exclusion and discrimination. As a result, it appears less risky for the mainstream parties to mobilize Southeast Asian voters since such electioneering could potentially enhance the former’s multiculturalist credibility (Cheng et al. 2018). Underneath the surface of electoral politics that capitalizes on image rather than reality, the migration state’s selectivity remains the hallmark of its citizenship legislation. This is most evident in regard to immigrants’ renunciation of native nationality and the revocation of granted nationality. The requirement of renunciation underlines how the Taiwanese state differentiates legal treatments by subjectively measuring the perceived socio-economic contributions of different categories of immigrants. That is, in gradation, foreign professionals, at the top of the hierarchy, are privileged and allowed to retain their birth nationality if they meet certain requirements. In the middle of the hierarchy, migrant spouses are required to renounce their birth nationality (or cancel their HR in China). At the bottom of the hierarchy, migrant workers are deprived of the opportunity for integration and ineligible for naturalization. The selectivity viewed in the patriarchal interest of chastity is realized by the state’s revocation of granted nationality if naturalized citizens are convicted for fraudulant marriages (Article 19, the Nationality Law). This gender-biased
On a steep learning curve 213 revocation would result in a foreign spouse’s loss of ROC nationality and statelessness, since she will have already relinquished her birth nationality. For Chinese spouses, at each stage of their application towards settlement (dingju, 定居), including sponsored residency (yiqin juliu, 依親居留) and long-term residency (changqi juliu, 長期居留), committing adultery, engaging in sex work, being found to have participated in fraudulent marriage, or having not cohabited with their spouses, will lead to the denial of their application or the revocation of their granted legal status.2 Without expiration, this discretionary power is claimed by the government to deter the abuse of marriage for illegal employment including sex work (see Chen 2010 for the widely held belief that Chinese women are particularly involved in sex work). For both Chinese and foreign wives, revocation justified by chastity disadvantages a woman in relation to her husband, since the latter could turn his wife in and claim that their marriage is fraudulent. To sum up, the differentiated citizenship eligibility of professional workers, guest workers, and migrant spouses clearly articulates the migration state’s pursuit of selectivity, which is critical to manifest its self-identity. Guided by selectivity, the state scrutinizes immigrants’ qualifications, calculates their usefulness, and embraces those who are perceived to be making desirable economic contributions. This scrutiny determines the scope of occupational and geographical mobility as well as the human and labour rights that are conferred upon each group. Biased by class, ethnicity, and gender, this governmentality ensures that the migration state of Taiwan is economically open to receiving the desired labour, skills, knowledge or capital but is politically closed in order to minimize the entry of the outsiders who are deemed as an undesired liability. However, the fact that the migrant population is dominated by those who are subjectively seen as undesirable suggests that selectivity is at best an aspiration rather than a goal to be practically reached. The framing of selectivity that is constituted by multiple biases and that overlooks each migrant group’s socio-economic connections with the host society has subjected Taiwan to internal and external criticism that questions its tools for achieving the imagined selectivity. At this juncture, this chapter now turns to analyze the diffusion of human rights norms as a result of reforming migration governance.
Learning to be kind after being shamed While the making of migration legislation in the 1990s was entwined with Taiwan’s democratization, the reform of the legislation in the 2000s was the consequence of Taiwan’s pursuit of benevolence, or realization of its proclaimed commitment to human rights protection. This section will focus on whether this benevolence is realized regarding human trafficking of migrant workers and citizenship eligibility for migrant spouses. The popularity of human rights discourse arose from Taiwan’s transformation from an authoritarian state to a liberal democracy. This can be evidenced by the Social Image Survey conducted by Academia Sinica in 1991, where human rights questions were framed in the context of Taiwan’s political and constitutional
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reform and the restoration of citizenship compromised by martial law (Yi 2014: 7; Yi 1998a: 62; Yi 1998b: 147–150). Being context-dependent suggested that the slogan ‘Building the Nation on the Value of Human Rights’ (renquan liguo, 人權立國), scripted by the DPP government when it rose to power in 2000, was meant to apply to the relationship between the state and the citizens of Taiwan only. The successive KMT and DPP governments in the following decades continued to publicize this slogan and realize this pledge by, amongst other actions, establishing the Human Rights Advisory Committee within the Presidential Office and unilaterally ratifying and implementing major international human rights conventions. Improving migrant workers’ rights and protecting refugees featured the Advisory Committee’s drafting of the National Human Rights Action Plan, without referring to the Global Compact for Safe, Order and Regular Migration and the Global Compact on Refugees (MoI 2020). The Committee is intent on the domestic adoption of the International Labour Organisation’s ‘fundamental conventions’, particularly Work in Fishing Convention and Forced Labour Convention (MoI 2020: 3). When the state made such a high-profile pledge, it made itself susceptible to internal and external scrutiny of its performance. Internally, the migrants’ movement, arising from a strengthened civil society, rode on the migration state’s intention to improve its international image. In the early 2000s during the DPP presidency, led by Taiwanese activists and attended by immigrant activists, the migrants’ movement grasped the political opportunities opened by the state’s proclaimed commitment to human rights protections. By forging advocacy organizations into a loose alliance, organizing protests, setting priorities for their campaign agendas, and persistently lobbying legislators for legislative reform, they held the state accountable for the legal servitude of migrant workers. They used human rights discourse as a framing strategy that rendered moral legitimacy to their campaigns and succeeded in making the inward-looking human rights discourse outward-facing while including migrants into its application (Hsia 2009; Liao 2009). Externally, in 2005 the migration state of Taiwan was ‘shamed’ by the United States as a trafficking destination where victims from China, Thailand, Cambodia, and Vietnam were ‘forced or coerced into the commercial sex trade or lured to Taiwan by fraudulent offers of employment or marriage’. As such, Taiwan was announced a Tier 2 country because it did ‘not fully comply with the minimum standards for the elimination of trafficking’ and lacked ‘a comprehensive trafficking law’ (Department of State 2005: 208–212). Being a weaker player on the geopolitical chessboard against the United States, the Taiwanese state responded to the pressures of its security guarantor. Largely accepting the US advice, the Taiwanese government amended its migration legislation, including the promulgation of the Human Trafficking Prevention Act (Cheng and Momesso 2017), a milestone for protecting the rights of migrant workers. Although not entirely in agreement with the prescription given by the United States for combating human and women trafficking (interview with an academic activist, 4 September 2018, Taipei), the movement’s campaign capitalized on the state’s sensitivity to US pressures and its vulnerability to the
On a steep learning curve 215 implication of Taiwan’s international image (interview with an activist, 11 July 2019). Another goal of the migrants’ movement was to make the selectivity-oriented citizenship legislation reconcile with the socio-economic conditions of migrant spouses. However, the goal of moderating the legislation that would ease their integration did not seem to enjoy societal support. In 1991, a social survey conducted by Academia Sinica found that a high percentage of respondents disapproved of the settlement and employment of or the investment and purchase of property by PRC citizens in Taiwan (Chu 2014b: 31). There were more women than men who disapproved because of security concerns (Chu 2014b: 32). However, there were twice as many women than men who were unaware of the issues concerning the relationship between Taiwan and China (Chu 2014b: 32),3 indicating that their perceptions towards security implications might not be factually informed. A survey conducted in 2005 further found that 73.3% of the respondents saw Southeast Asian spouses as a ‘serious problem’ (Chiu 2008: 5), although the survey did not spell out what ‘serious problem’ meant. In May 2012, another survey found that 57.5% of the respondents did not see Southeast Asian spouses in a positive light, in spite of the fact that 62.6% of the same sample did not know any Southeast Asian spouses (Yang 2015: 6-7). Nearly an equal percentage of the respondents (57.3%) also held negative attitudes towards Chinese spouses, although there were 58.6% of respondents who did not know any Chinese spouses (Yang 2015: 6-7). Two years later, in 2014, the level of negativity towards Southeast Asian spouses declined significantly by nearly 9% (48.9); a downward trend at a smaller scale (4.6%) was also found amongst respondents regarding their negative perceptions towards Chinese spouses (Yang 2017: 14). These survey results underline the fact that in spite of migrant spouses’ long-term presence in Taiwan, the prevailing negativity towards them persists and remains a matter of perception. This overwhelming social disapproval may justify the selectivity-oriented legislation. In the past 20 years, obtaining citizenship was seen by most migrant spouses as essential to a secure life in Taiwan as a wife and mother (Cheng 2013, 2017b).4 Thus, the migrants’ movement was a constant source of pressure on the state to reform its legislation. Amongst other actions, the movement succeeded in entitling Chinese spouses to work and shortening the qualifying residency duration from eight to six years (Tseng et al. 2014). Nevertheless, the goal of further reducing the required residency to four years is yet to be achieved after the draft bill of the Cross-Strait Act was reviewed by the Home Affairs Committee at the Legislative Yuan in 2016 (LY 2016a; LY 2016b: 157). The migrants’ movement encountered the state’s persistent resistance in other fronts that are mostly underlined by the biases of gender. A key component of the selectivity-oriented legislation is the compulsory visa interview of nationals from 21 lower income countries conducted at Taiwan’s consulate abroad and the entry interview of Chinese spouses conducted at their landing port in Taiwan. Claimed to be effective for filtering sham marriages, these interviews have been criticized by the migrants’ movement as gender-biased, flawed by its discrimination of the targeted states, and intruding on migrant spouses’ privacy.
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Although the interview setting was improved in response to these criticisms, the government insists on exercising such discretionary power, partly for asserting its claim to sovereignty in the case of interviewing Chinese spouses (Friedman 2015). The movement consistently advocated that migrant women whose marriage ceased because of divorce or the death of Taiwanese spouses should be able to apply for naturalization as married spouses. To this call, the state was responsive; yet the remedy provided ironically deepens the gender bias in the form of chastity or motherhood. That is, foreign widows or divorcees who suffer abusive marriage may apply for naturalization as married spouses if (1) they remained unmarried, (2) they remain in contact with their Taiwanese in-laws, or (3) their marriage lasted more than two years and they are their minor children’s guardians, they factually raise their minor children, or they are in touch with their minor children (Article 7, the Enforcement Rules of Nationality Law). For the Chinese widows or divorcees, their chastity in the form of remaining unmarried or motherhood in the form of bearing children, or being their minor children’s guardian, also holds the key to continuing their legal status in Taiwan (A14, 23, 31, the Residency Regulations). In this light, the state only selects those who can perform motherhood as citizens and the citizenship granted to them is a reward for their motherhood.5 Dropping the requirement of renunciation and thus reducing the possibility of statelessness was another goal of the movement’s campaign. However, this campaign met with a stone wall. The government was reluctant to give in, arguing the necessity of securing immigrants’ singular allegiance towards Taiwan. The government instead provided a technical solution by allowing applicants to submit the documentation of renunciation within one year of the approval of naturalization or by exempting those whose failure in submission is caused by reasons not attributable to them (Article 9, the Nationality Law). Therefore, the hierarchy between the few who are privileged to retain their native nationality and the mass who are required to renounce remains the core of the migration governance.
Conclusion This chapter provided an overview of the transition of Taiwan from an anti-communist bastion during the Cold War to a migration state taking part in global migration. Analyzing the conflicting interests of economic openness and political exclusion, this chapter clearly demonstrates that this transition not only is Taiwan’s response to the evolving regional and global political economy since the late 1980s but also coincides with Taiwan’s pursuit of its sovereignty, selection of desirable migrants, and exhibition of its benevolence. Sovereignty, selectivity, and benevolence are the values critical to Taiwan’s self-identity as an independent sovereign state that survives on its international competitiveness in the global economy as well as aspires to be recognized as a benevolent state that realizes the protection of human rights. Taiwan is on a steep learning curve where the reconfiguration of its identity and the refining of its citizenship legislation concurred with its socialization with the norm of human rights protection.
On a steep learning curve 217 Examining in detail the gap between Taiwan’s pursuit and actual results, this chapter argued that Taiwan is approaching, rather than reaching, the goals of asserting its sovereignty, selecting desirable migrants and publicizing its benevolent image. These arguments are supported by the findings that the ROC Constitution, that clings onto its ambiguous sovereignty claim to mainland China, constrains the scope of its de facto sovereignty that is now confined to the Taiwan Area. The fact that Household Registration is utilized to distinguish PRC citizens and Overseas Chinese from ROC citizens underlines the instability and vulnerability of Taiwan’s claim to sovereignty. The prevalence of migrant workers and spouses compared to professional workers is a testimony to the unattained selectivity, a fact that is contrasted by the imagined positivity of attaining foreign talent and the subjective exclusion of migrant workers and spouses in spite of their close relationship with the host society and contributions to reproduction. This contrast is also embedded in the legislation that is biased by class, ethnicity, and gender, which favours professional workers but disadvantages migrant workers and spouses. The legal and social treatment received by migrant spouses and workers is a measurement of Taiwan’s proclaimed benevolence towards outsiders. The deficiency of Taiwan’s commitment to human rights protection was challenged by the migrants’ movement, which rose from a strengthened civil society after democratization. The movement grasped the political opportunities availed by the state’s pledge of ‘Building a Nation on the Value of Human Rights Protection’. Using this discourse as a framing strategy and resources for legitimization, the movement was able to negotiate with the state to improve migration legislation. Being a major destination for regional migration in East Asia, Taiwan is a migration state where the interests of maintaining self-identity and controlling access to citizenship are in a constant struggle with the diffusion of human rights norms.
Notes 1 Those who are labelled as ‘Industrial Workers’ are those who are employed by the government in major construction projects as in Economic Processing Zones, Science Parks, manufacturing (including those sectors which re-apply for their allocated quota), new and expanded firms and investment projects, and businesses invested by returned Taiwanese entrepreneurs. 2 Article 26, 27, 32, 33, the Regulations of the Permission of the People of Mainland Area’s Sponsored Residency, Long-Term Residency and Settlement in the Taiwan Area (henceforth the Residency Regulations). 3 Respondents were asked about their opinions on whether they agreed with the following issues: exporting Taiwanese products to China, building a unilateral transport link from Taiwan to China, establishing representative offices in China, Chinese investment in Taiwan, Taiwanese enrolment at universities in China, technology transfer from Taiwan to China, financial institutions establishing branches in China, Taiwanese employment in China, Taiwanese purchase of properties in China and Taiwanese settlement in China (Chu 2014b: 30). 4 However, recently, it is believed that the interest in naturalization amongst migrant spouses seemed to have decreased (interview of a legislator, 8 December 2017, Taipei).
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5 It should be pointed out that the state provides these remedies to those whose children are ROC nationals (for Southeast Asian spouses) or children who have HR in Taiwan (for Chinese spouses).
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Mathews, J.A. (1997) ‘A silicon valley of the east: creating Taiwan’s semiconductor industry’. California Management Review 39 (4), pp. 26–54. Ministry of the Interior (MoI) (2005) Birthrate Statistics, Home Affairs Statistics Bulletin: The 24th Week of 2005 (內政統計通報, 九十四年第二十四週, 94年1至5月嬰兒出生 狀況統計) (in Chinese). Available at https://www.moi.gov.tw/stat/node.aspx?cate_sn=-1 &belong_sn=5120&sn=5500 (retrieved 25 February 2019). Ministry of Justice (MoJ) (2020) Minutes of the Second Meeting of the Working Group of the Advisory Committee on the Drafting of the National Human Rights Action Plan (制定國家人權行動計畫諮詢委員會工作小組第2次會議紀錄) (in Chinese). Retrieved on 31 March 2020 from http://www.humanrights.moj.gov.tw/cp-1270-127 595-78933-200.html. Ministry of Labour (MoL) (勞動部) (2018) Monthly Update on Labour Statistics (勞動統計月報), at http://statdb.mol.gov.tw/html/mon/212050.htm (retrieved 8 August 2018). Ministry of National Defence (MND) (國防部) (1987) A History of the Establishment of National Revolutionary Force Part IV: Enhancement and War Preparation of the Retrocession Base vol. II, 1950–1981 (國民革命建軍史第四部: 復興基地整軍備戰 (二), 資料時間: 民國三十九年至七十年) (in Chinese). Taipei: MND. Minns, J. and Tierney, R. (2003) ‘The labour movement in Taiwan’. Labour History: A Journal of Labour and Social History 85, pp. 103–128. National Development Council (NDC). (n.d.) The Population Policy Guideline (人口政策綱領) (in Chinese). At https://www.ndc.gov.tw/cp.aspx?n=6868882E3512 06A5&s=76B9477A422F022A&upn=0900128317CBBFCF. National Immigration Agency (NIA) (2009) A White Paper on Migration Administration (移民行政白皮書) (in Chinese). Taipei: NIA. National Immigration Agency (2018) Numbers of Foreign and Mainland (Including Hong Kong and Macao) by Status, June 2018 (外籍配偶人數與 大陸(含港澳)配偶人數按證件分10706) (in Chinese). Retrieved on 13 July 2019 from https://www.immigration.gov.tw/5385/7344/7350/8887/?alias=settledown National Immigration Agency (NIA) (n.d.) Numbers of Foreign Spouses and Mainland Spouses (including those from Hong Kong and Macao) in January 2016 by Certificate (外籍配偶人數與大陸(含港澳)配偶人數按證件分10501) (in Chinese) https://www .immigration.gov.tw/5385/7344/7350/8887/?alias=settledown (accessed 4 September 2020). Naughton, B. (ed.) (1997) The China Circle: Economics and Electronics in the PRC, Taiwan and Hong Kong.Washington, DC: Brookings Institution Press. Office of Trade Negotiation (2017) The New Southbound Policy: A Practical Approach Moving Full Steam Ahead. Taipei: Office of Trade Negotiation. Oishi, N. (2014) ‘Introduction: highly skilled migration in Asia and the Pacific’. Asian & Pacific Migration Journal 23 (4), pp. 365–373. O’Neil, K. (2006) ‘Brain drain and gain: the case of Taiwan’. Migration Information Source, Migration Policy Institute. http://www.migrationinformation.org/Feature/d isplay.cfm?ID=155, accessed 10 February 2019. Oyen, M. (2010) ‘Communism, containment and the Chinese overseas’. In Zheng, Yangwen, Liu, Hong, Szonyi, Michael (eds.) The Cold War in Asia: The Battle for Hearts and Minds. Leiden: Brill, pp. 59–94. Pang, E.F. (1992) ‘Absorbing temporary foreign workers: the experience of Singapore’. Asian and Pacific Migration Journal 1 (3/4), pp. 495–509.
On a steep learning curve 223 Rawnsley, G.D. (1997) ‘The 1996 presidential campaign in Taiwan: packaging politics in a democratizing state’. Harvard International Journal of Press/Politics 2 (2), pp. 47–61. Rickards, J. (2018) What Gives with Taiwan’s Low Wages? The News Lens. 19 March. https://international.thenewslens.com/article/91779 (accessed 4 September 2020). Robinson, T.W. (ed.) (1991) Democracy and Development in East Asia: Taiwan, South Korea, and the Philippines. AEI Press. Rubinstein, M.A. (2015) ‘Political Taiwanization and Pragmatic Diplomacy: the Eras of Chiang Ching-kuo and Lee Teng-hui, 1971–1994’. In Rubinstein Murray, A. (ed.) Taiwan: A New History. London: Routledge, pp. 496–535. Schmitt, C. (2011) Political Theology: Four Chapters on the Concept of Sovereignty. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Selya, R.M. (1992) ‘Illegal migration in Taiwan: a preliminary overview’. International Migration Review 26 (3), pp. 787–805. Sher, P.J., Yang, P.Y. (2005) ‘The effects of innovative capabilities and R&D clustering on firm performance: the evidence of Taiwan’s semiconductor industry’. Technovation 25 (1), pp. 33–43. Sills, S.J. (2007) ‘Philippine labour migration to Taiwan: Social, political, demographic, and economic dimensions’. Migration Letters 4 (1), pp. 1–14. Stainton, M. (2015) ‘Aboriginal self-government: Taiwan’s uncompleted agenda’. In: Rubinstein, Murray A. (ed.) Taiwan: A New History, pp. 419–435. London: Routledge. Surak, K. (2013) ‘Guestworker regimes: a taxonomy’. The New Left Review 84, pp. 84–102. Tang, S.Y. and Tang, C.P. (1997) ‘Democratization and environmental politics in Taiwan’. Asian Survey 37 (3), pp. 281–294. Tien, H.M. (1996) ‘Taiwan in 1995: electoral politics and cross-strait relations’. Asian Survey 36 (1), pp. 33–40. Troung, T.D. (1996) ‘Gender, international migration and social reproduction: implications for theory, policy, research and networking’. Asian and Pacific Migration Journal 5 (1), pp. 27–52. Tsay, C.L. (1992) ‘Clandestine labor migration to Taiwan’. Asian and Pacific Migration Journal 1 (3–4), pp. 637–655. Tsai, C.T. (1910) ‘The Chinese nationality law, 1909’. American Journal of International Law 4 (2), pp. 404–411. Tseng, Y.C., Cheng, I., and Fell, D. (2014) ‘The politics of the mainland spouses’ rights movement in Taiwan’. In Chiu, Kuei-fen, Fell, Dafydd, and Lin, Ping (eds.) Migration to and from Taiwan. Abingdon: Routledge, pp. 205–226. Tseng, Y.F. (1997) ‘Immigration consulting firms in Taiwanese business immigration’. Asian and Pacific Migration Journal 6 (3–4), pp. 275–294. Tseng, Y.F., Wang, H.Z. (2013) ‘Governing migrant workers at a distance: managing the temporary status of guestworkers in Taiwan’. International Migration 51 (4), pp. 1–19. US Department of State (2005) Trafficking in Person Report. https://2009-2017.state.gov/ documents/organization/47255.pdf (accessed 4 September 2020). Wang, H.Z. (2011) ‘Immigration trends and policy changes in Taiwan’. Asian and Pacific Migration Journal 20 (2), pp. 169–194. Wang, H.Z. and Chang, S.M. (2002) ‘The commodification of international marriages: cross-border marriage business in Taiwan and Vietnam’. International Migration 40 (6), pp. 93–116. Wei, T.K. (1991) ‘The surge of Asian NIC investment into Indonesia’. Bulletin of Indonesian Economic Studies 27 (3), pp. 55–88.
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Wu, D.Y.H. (1991) ‘The construction of Chinese and non-Chinese identities’. Daedalus 120 (2), pp. 159–179. Wu, K.B. (1993) Science and Technology Education in Taiwan. World Bank Education and Social Policy Discussion Series Paper no. 13. Yang, C.K. (2001) ‘A history of tourism policy, administration and legislation in postwar Taiwan (戰後臺灣觀光政策行政與法規發展史) (in Chinese)’. Taiwan Historical Quarterly (臺灣文獻) 52 (2), pp. 481–496. Yang, W.S. (2015) 2012 Social Image Survey I (C00260) [data file]. Available from Survey Research Data Archive, Academia Sinica. doi:10.6141/TW-SRDA-C00260-1 Yang, W.S. (2017) 2014 Social Image Survey I (C00302) [data file]. Available from Survey Research Data Archive, Academia Sinica. doi:10.6141/TW-SRDA-C00302-1 Yi, C.C. (1998a) Second Social Image Survey in 1991 (C00015) [data file]. Available from Survey Research Data Archive, Academia Sinica. doi:10.6141/TW-SRDA-C00015-1 Yi, C.C. (1998b) Third Social Image Survey in 1991 (C00016) [data file]. Available from Survey Research Data Archive, Academia Sinica. doi:10.6141/TW-SRDA-C00016-1 Yi, C.C. (2014) First Social Image Survey in 1991 (C00014) [data file]. Available from Survey Research Data Archive, Academia Sinica. doi:10.6141/TW-SRDA-C00014-1.
11 The politics of mainlander immigration in post-colonial Hong Kong Gunter Schubert
Introduction Although Hong Kong is an integral part of the People’s Republic of China, it is entitled by its status as a Special Administrative Region (SAR), conferred to the territory after the handover on July 1, 1997, to run its own immigration regime. Immigration policy in Hong Kong is restrictive like almost everywhere in East Asia. This results, to a considerable extent, in the stigmatization and social exclusion of those ‘compatriots’ who come from what is widely called in Hong Kong the ‘inner territory’ (neidi), i.e., mainland China, and have settled in the SAR.1 In fact, mainlanders are treated like foreign nationals and must qualify for Hong Kong citizenship according to widely the same rules as any other foreigner who wants to settle in Hong Kong. This policy is supported by the central government in Beijing, which agrees with the SAR authorities that unrestricted immigration of mainland Chinese to Hong Kong is risky for Hong Kong’s internal stability and the enduring consent of the Hong Kong people to the ‘one country, two systems’ arrangement. The strict regulation of mainlander immigration comes somewhat as a puzzle as, from the perspective of the central government, steady economic and social integration between the former British crown colony and the ‘inner territory’ is one of the fundamental objectives of the ‘one country, two systems’ model, which grants Hong Kong political autonomy until 2047, as prescribed by the Basic Law. However, in order to maintain stability, the state (referring to both the central government and the SAR authorities) has opted for a cautious approach to immigration by both foreign nationals and mainland Chinese ‘compatriots’. Today, this approach is also informed by the fear of ‘exported’ Islamist terrorism and the influx of low-skilled economic migrants from South Asia and Africa, and it bespeaks a conservative attitude towards the regulation of global migration flows and international norms, the latter of which bestow certain rights upon refugees and immigrants. In that sense, Hong Kong is not much different from the rest of East Asia, where new immigration regimes are now designed in order to deal with global migration and demographic changes at home. At the same time, resentments against mainlanders entering Hong Kong have, arguably, deepened over the years since the handover, though it is hard
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to determine to what extent they are entrenched in the public prejudice which is broadly shared within Hong Kong society. In recent years, activist groups have been set up to raise public awareness of the negative impact of mainlander immigration and tourism on the economic and social fabric of Hong Kong, putting pressure on the SAR government to restrict the mainlander influx. Protests have been targeting mainlander women for making use of modern obstetric services in publicly funded hospitals in Hong Kong to give birth. They do this so that their babies are entitled to permanent residency in the SAR and, consequentially, have access to Hong Kong schools and social welfare schemes. Mainland students, whose numbers have been rising over the years, have been accused of supplanting Hong Kong students in the reception of government grants. Most visibly, though not directly related to immigration, mainland tourists and parallel traders, flocking into Hong Kong’s expensive commercial areas, have been ostracized, being labelled ‘locusts’ (huangchong) who squeeze out small shop owners by buying out urgently needed daily commodities like milk powder and medicine, which are believed to be of low quality and unhealthy in China. Arguably, the negative attitude towards mainlanders in Hong Kong, though certainly not shared by everyone, has contributed to a new wave of ‘Hong Kong localism’, particularly after the 2014 ‘Umbrella Revolution’, a student-led protest movement fighting for universal suffrage in elections for the SAR Chief Executive. Politicized ‘Hong Kong localism’ is the endpoint of a longer process of Hong Kong identity formation, which has long been under siege by China. Although this process has not been explicitly linked to mainlander immigration policies so far, it is reinforced by a growing resistance among many Hong Kong people against the presence of their ‘mainland compatriots’ in the SAR. In fact, Hong Kong’s immigration regime cannot be detached from the general political environment which, in recent years, has seen rising tensions between the central government in Beijing and a political opposition movement fighting for universal suffrage, the protection of Hong Kong’s autonomy, and, in its most radical manifestation, secession. This chapter discusses the relationship between Hong Kong’s immigration regime, i.e., its policies, embodied norms, and practices related to the regulation of immigration and permanent residency in Hong Kong, and the discursive perception of Chinese mainlanders who reside in the SAR. More specifically, it highlights the interplay between politics of identity, citizenship, and mainlander immigration since the post-war era, with a focus on the years after the handover in 1997. The major argument is that Hong Kong’s immigration regime has been strongly shaped by continuous and substantial mainlander immigration since the founding of the People’s Republic, on the one hand, and the British response to it, on the other. This initiated an evolving process by which a distinct Hong Kong identity has gradually formed that has inflicted major constraints on the making of Hong Kong’s post-colonial immigration regime. Ironically, the central government in Beijing supports Hong Kong’s restrictive policies to safeguard the SAR’s internal stability, and thus, partakes in the further consolidation of a Hong Kong identity which excludes and discriminates against mainlanders and, arguably, drives the two sides apart. In this process, recent measures to liberalize
The politics of immigration in Hong Kong 227 the immigration regime in order to recruit highly skilled professionals from outside, including from mainland China, are countervailed by other policies which produce the social exclusion and ostracism of mainlander immigrants and shortterm visitors. Generally speaking, Hong Kong’s immigration regime contributes to the ongoing alienation between mainlanders and Hong Kong citizens which, foremost, is spurred by Hong Kong’s quest for democracy and a distinct identity.
Mainlander immigration to Hong Kong – policies and figures In terms of absolute numbers, roughly a third of the people living in Hong Kong today were born in mainland China (see Tables 11.1a and 11.1b). There was a massive amount of mainlander immigration during the Chinese civil war, which ended with the founding of the Communist People’s Republic in 1949, and particularly during the 1960s when China was suffering from the devastating consequences of the Great Leap Forward and the Cultural Revolution. At the time, the border between Hong Kong and the mainland was relatively open, as the British colonial authorities did not strictly control it for humanitarian and economic reasons (Mizuoka 2017). This changed, however, in the early 1970s in response to the leftist upheaval that had reached Hong Kong in the wake of the Cultural Revolution, which was threatening the stability of the crown colony (see below). Today, mainland Chinese, along with other foreign nationals, can legally immigrate to Hong Kong via the following channels: (1) immigration by ‘family reunion’; (2) immigration by applying for long-term employment or study; (3) ‘second generation’ immigration; or (4) immigration by investment (currently abrogated). Hong Kong’s refugee immigration, which is sharply regulated, does not include Table 11.1a Hong Kong population by place of birth and year. Year
2006
2011
2016
Population
Population
Population
Number of Percentage Number Percentage Number persons of persons of persons
Percentage
Place of birth Hong Kong
4,138,844 60.3
4,278,126 60.5
4,451,493 60.7
Mainland China/ Macao/ Taiwan
2,298,956 33.5
2,267,917 32.1
2,272,293 31
Elsewhere
426,546
525,533
612,799
Total
6,864,346 100
6.2
7.4
7,071,576 100
8.4
7,336,585 100
Source: 2016 Population By-census Office (latest source available at the time of writing), Census and Statistics Department, The Government of the Hong Kong Special Administrative Region, https:// www.bycensus2016.gov.hk/en/bc-mt.html (accessed 14 September 2019).
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Table 11.1b Hong Kong population by place of birth and year. Population Number of persons Year
2016
Place of birth Hong Kong Mainland China Macao Taiwan United Kingdom Asian and Oceanian countries European countries (other than United Kingdom) American countries Elsewhere Total
4,451,493 2,186,537 67,612 18,144 23,322 533,788 17,545 33,635 4,509 7,336,585
Source: 2016 Population By-census Office (the latest available at the time of writing, Census and Statistics Department, The Government of the Hong Kong Special Administrative Region, https://www.bycensus2016.gov.hk/en/bc-own_tbl.html (accessed 14 September 2019)).
mainlanders as – by definition of its administrative status – Hong Kong cannot shelter asylum seekers from the PRC. The following list summarizes the currently existing schemes that allow for immigration to Hong Kong by mainlanders and foreign nationals, complemented by information on Hong Kong’s handling illegal and refugee immigration.2 •
Immigration by applying for a ‘One-Way-Permit’ for family reunion
According to an agreement between the central government and the SAR Hong Kong, each day Chinese authorities can issue a so-called ‘People’s Republic of China Permit for Proceeding to Hong Kong and Macao’ or ‘One-Way Permit’ (OWP, danchengzheng) for up to 150 mainlander applicants who wish to move to Hong Kong.3 Successful applicants lose their Chinese household registration and, initially, obtain temporary residence in Hong Kong. They are entitled to work in the SAR. The scheme does primarily pertain to close relatives – usually the parents, spouses, or children – of Hong Kong residents who are Right of Abode (ROA) holders.4 Applicants must apply with the entry and exit administration offices of the public security authority at the places of their household registration.5 The processing of an OWP application takes approximately four years.6 According to official information, the mainland authorities utilize a point-based system to determine and grade the eligibility and priority of applicants, and some provinces and cities in China publish the names of applicants whose procedures have been completed.7 However, the process by which OWP applicants are precisely selected is quite opaque and the SAR government has no say in this procedure. According to
The politics of immigration in Hong Kong 229 Table 11.2 First-Entry One-Way-Permit Holders (1998–2018). Year
No. of OWPHs
OWPHs aged 15+
Median age
1998 1999 2000 2001 2002 2003 2004 2005 2006 2007 2008 2009 2010 2011 2012 2013 2014 2015 2016 2017 2018
56,039 54,625 57,530 53,655 45,234 53,507 38,072 55,106 54,170 33,865 41,610 48,587 42,624 43,379 54,646 45,031 40,496 38,338 57,387 46,971 42,331
25,868 30,915 37,906 36,079 30,945 38,640 26,752 40,568 37,779 24,798 31,435 38,854 34,071 35,916 47,721 37,797 32,627 31,423 47,358 38,740 35,002
13 25 29 29 29 30 29 29 27 28 28 29 29 31 36 33 32 32 32 32 33
Source: Compiled from the Home Affairs Department and the Immigration Department, Statistics on New Arrivals from the Mainland, different editions, https://www.had.gov. hk/en/public_services/services_for_new_arrivals_from_the_mainland/surveys.htm (accessed 14 September 2019).
official Hong Kong figures, 960,872 mainland Chinese have settled in Hong Kong between 1998 and 2017, some 13% of the total population in 2017 (see Table 11.2). •
Immigration by applying for long-term employment and study
There are several employment schemes for mainlanders (and other foreign nationals) who wish to come to Hong Kong and a scheme for university students who can apply for postgraduate studies at a Hong Kong institution of higher learning (see also HKSAR 2018): 1) General Employment Policy (GEP) Applicants who possess special skills or professional knowledge, not readily available in Hong Kong, can apply to come to and work in the SAR under this programme, which is quota-free and non-sector-specific. However, only those PRC passport holders can apply under this programme who have permanent residence overseas or have been residing overseas – i.e., in countries or territories outside the HKSAR or the Macao SAR – for at least one year immediately before they submit their application. In 2018, a total of 41,592 foreign professionals and entrepreneurs were admitted, up from 39,952 in 2017 (see Table 11.3).8
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Table 11.3 Visas issued under the GEP in 2018. Profession Academic research and education Arts and culture Commerce and trade Engineering and construction Financial services Information technology Legal services Recreation and sports Others Total
2018 4,961 3,439 7 511 1,187 5,057 1,381 464 5,180 12,412 41,592
Source: Immigration Department of the HKSAR, https:// www.immd.gov.hk/eng/facts/visa-control.html (accessed 14 September 2019).
2) Admission Scheme for Mainland Talents and Professionals (ASMTP) Similar to the GEP in terms of scope, this scheme specifically targets mainland Chinese residents who possess special skills and professional knowledge that are in demand in Hong Kong. The ASMTP was introduced in 2003. In 2018, a total of 13,768 applications have been approved, up from 12,381 in 2016.9 3) Quality Migrant Admission Scheme (QMAS) This programme was launched in 2006. It aims to attract highly skilled or talented individuals to settle in Hong Kong in order to enhance Hong Kong’s economic competitiveness and does not distinguish between foreign nationals and mainland Chinese residents. The difference between this scheme and the former is the non-requirement of a foregoing job offer in Hong Kong. It works under two different point systems: The General Points Test (GPT) and the Achievement-based Points Test (APT). In 2018, 555 applicants were allotted under the quotas, with 527 (2017: 381) under the GPT and 28 (2017: 30) under the APT. Successful applicants under the GPT worked mainly in financial and accounting services, information technology and telecommunications, architecture, surveying, engineering and construction, and manufacturing. Under the APT, successful applicants mainly came from sports, arts and culture, broadcasting, and entertainment sectors. 4) Immigration Arrangements for Non-local Graduates (IANG) Non-local students who have obtained an undergraduate or postgraduate qualification at a Hong Kong institution of higher learning can stay for up to 12 months in Hong Kong for work if their application, which must be submitted no later than 6 months after the date of graduation, is approved. In 2018, 10,150 non-local graduates were given permission to stay and work in Hong Kong for the prescribed time, up from 9,331 in 2017.10
The politics of immigration in Hong Kong 231 5) Supplementary Labour Scheme (SLS) The Supplementary Labour Scheme (SLS) was started on February 1, 1996. It allows employers in Hong Kong with genuine difficulties in finding suitable staff locally to import workers at the technician level or below. However, local workers should have priority and employers must prove their efforts to train local staff while still being unable to fill their vacancies before they can apply for this programme. There is also a list of those occupations which are excluded from the scheme, e.g., waiters, clerical workers, receptionists, demolition workers, and drivers.11 In 2016, the year with the latest available figures at the time of writing, 3,545 applications were approved under this scheme. The programme has become particularly important in the area of elderly care in recent years by the importation of supplementary labour that ranges from 10,000 to 15,000 foreign nationals annually. •
Admission Scheme for the Second Generation of Chinese Hong Kong Permanent Residents (ASSG)
The ASSG was launched in May 2015 to attract the second generation of Chinese Hong Kong permanent residents living overseas to return to Hong Kong. In 2018, the Immigration Department received 675 applications, of which 386 applications were approved (2017: 550 applications, 315 approvals). Returnees mainly came from the United States, Canada, Australia, the Netherlands, and the United Kingdom, and they held bachelor’s or master’s degrees mainly in engineering, finance, information technology, or law. Applicants admitted under the GEP, ASMTP, IANG, and ASSG, targeting foremost highly skilled professionals and entrepreneurs, can apply for temporary residence for their spouses and unmarried children under the age of 18 who, if accepted, can work and study in the HKSAR. Successful applicants and their family members are granted permanent residence (Right of Abode) after seven years of continuously being registered as Hong Kong residents. •
Technology Talent Admission Scheme (TechTAS)
The TechTAS was rolled out on June 25, 2018, to attract non-local technology talent to undertake research and development work in Hong Kong. Eligible technology companies or research institutes must first apply for a place under a quota from the Innovation and Technology Commission before they can hire a person under this scheme. As of the end of 2018, a total of 29 applications were submitted, of which 24 had been approved. •
Capital Investment Entrant Scheme
The objective of this scheme is to facilitate the entry of those ready to bring capital investment to Hong Kong without the requirement of being engaged in or running a business in the SAR. Starting from October 2010, the threshold of investment to
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be eligible for this scheme was HK$10 million (after HK$ 6.5 million before), to be channelled to stocks, bonds, and insurance equity officially listed in so-called ‘Permissible Investment Asset Classes’.12 The scheme, which had been launched in 2003 and primarily attracted wealthy Chinese who were looking to secure Hong Kong permanent residency for themselves and their families, was unexpectedly suspended on January 15, 2015, following a political decision to recruit more professionals and innovative entrepreneurs instead of mere investors.13 Still, all applications that had been submitted before that date remained eligible. As of March 2018, 34,052 applications have been granted formal approvals.14 Counting all figures for issued visas pertaining to the immigration schemes mentioned above (excluding those foreigners running under the SLS), in 2018 a total of 100,527 Chinese and foreign nationals came to Hong Kong and were granted temporary residency. They brought another 26,083 ‘dependants’ with them, i.e., their spouses and unmarried children under the age of 18,15 lifting the total figure to 126,610 – some 1.7% of the territory’s population of 748 million in 2018. Once they have continuously resided in the HKSAR for a period of no less than seven years, permanent residency (Right of Abode) is granted. This is a generic rule which applies to all categories of immigrants, Chinese or non-Chinese (see graph in Figure 11.1).16 •
Refugee immigration
Hong Kong does not have legal pathways to political asylum,17 but refugees can claim non-refoulement on the basis of the United Nations Convention against Torture and Other Cruel, Inhuman or Degrading Treatment or Punishment, which was signed by the United Kingdom in 1988 and extended to Hong Kong in 1992 (see also Lai and Kennedy 2017). The cases of asylum seekers,18 i.e., those applying for protection under the UN Convention, which have been found substantial by the HKSAR Immigration Department under the ‘Unified Screening Mechanism’,19 are then referred to the UN High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) for recognition as refugees under his/her mandate. If so recognized, the UNHCR arranges for their resettling in a third country. This process can take many years during which accepted asylum seekers are not allowed to work in Hong Kong and only provided with meagre welfare payments, including HK$1,500 a month for housing, about HK$300 for utilities, HK$1,200 in supermarket coupons for food, and a few hundred Hong Kong dollars for transport in one of the world’s most expensive cities (see also Vecchio and Ham 2018). Even though the Hong Kong government’s official stance is that it does not resettle refugees within Hong Kong’s boundaries, there were 7,244 tolerated asylum seekers staying in the territory as of December 2017, most of them coming from South Asian countries such as India, Pakistan, and Bangladesh.20 This amounts to roughly 1% of Hong Kong’s total population, one of the world’s smallest refugee groups. Only 172 (!) out of 17,978 torture or non-refoulement claims were substantiated by the Hong Kong authorities between 2009 and June 2019.21 In fact, immigration authorities rarely see a bona fide claim and in most cases do not grant refugee status or political protection to applicants, as there seems to be a general consensus in Hong
at the time of birth
(6) Had the ROA in HK only before 1 July 1997
at the time of or since birth
Make a declaration that they had the ROA only in HK immediately before 1 July 1997
Under the age of 21
Provide information and declare that they have taken HK as their place of permanent residence.
Either parent fell within in (1) or (2)
7 years of continuous residence in HK immediately before the date of application for permanent residency
(5) Born in HK to persons in (4)
(4) Have entered HK with valid travel documents
(3) Born outside HK
(2) 7 years of continuous residence in HK
Either parent had the ROA
Permanent residence in the HKSAR has been approved by the Director of Immigration
ROA in the HKSAR
Figure 11.1 Gaining Right of Abode in Hong Kong. Source: Immigration Department of the Hong Kong SAR, https://www.immd.gov.hk/eng/se rvices/roa/eligible.html, slightly adapted.
Persons other than residents under (1) to (5)
Non-Chinese Citizens
Chinese Citizens
(1) Born in HK before or after the establishment of the HKSAR
Eligibility for the ROA in the HKSAR
The politics of immigration in Hong Kong 233
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Kong, at least one suggested by officials, to not grant political asylum in order to avoid abuse of the city’s economic resources and to not compromise the SAR’s restrictive line in immigration policy.22
The influx of mainlander immigrants Roughly spoken, almost one million mainlanders have settled in Hong Kong legally through the ‘One-Way Permit’ policy and other admission schemes since 1997, and the number will rise to approx. two million by the end of the 50-year autonomy period in 2047. Also, there were 17,367 cross-border marriages in 2016, amounting to 34.7% of a total of 50,008 marriages that year. The figures for cross-border marriages have been relatively constant since the handover and do not arouse much public debate in general.23 However, they are directly connected to the OWP system which primarily serves family reunion purposes and, for itself, is highly controversial because of its alleged attraction of low-skilled or unqualified mainlanders who are seen as a burden to Hong Kong’s social welfare and public service provision (see below). Apart from this, mainland Chinese ‘birth tourism’ to Hong Kong became a highly contested issue in the decade after the handover, resulting in a number of countervailing policies on the part of the SAR authorities, launched between 2007 and 2012. Mainlander women without residency rights in Hong Kong crossed the border during the late stage of their pregnancies on a tourist visa to give birth to their babies at a Hong Kong hospital because of the quality of obstetric services provided there24 and, after a 2001 Court of Final Appeal ruling, the entitlement to Right of Abode for all those who are born on Hong Kong soil.25 Consequentially, the number of these babies saw a steep increase since the early 2000s, from 709 births in 2000 to 35,736 births in 2011.26 In response to a rising public outcry against this trend, the SAR government initiated a number of policy measures to discourage mainlander women from entering Hong Kong to give birth.27 First, a booking system for obstetric services was introduced in 2007 which obliges pregnant mainlander women to preregister at public hospitals and undergo antenatal examinations. Simultaneously, Hong Kong’s Hospital Authority assigned quotas for local pregnant women, hence making it impossible for mainlander women to claim medical assistance by simply appearing at a hospital’s doorstep shortly before delivery. Second, obstetric services have been made prohibitively expensive for mainlanders without a booking.28 Third, arrival clearance checks were stepped up for all non-local pregnant women. Those from the mainland who want to visit the SAR, have been pregnant for more than seven months, and cannot present a confirmation of admission to a hospital, i.e., have made a booking, may be denied entry.29 Most effectively, however, was the introduction of a ‘zero quota policy’ by the SAR authorities in 2012, according to which all public hospitals were ordered not to accept any bookings by non-local pregnant women for delivery in Hong Kong from January 1, 2013 onwards.30 Thereafter, the number of ‘type I babies’ declined precipitously (see Table 11.4 and graph in Figure 11.2). However, the issue of mainlander ‘birth tourism’ has not disappeared,31 as the legal principle that ‘type I babies’,32 i.e., those with no parent who enjoys permanent residency
The politics of immigration in Hong Kong 235 Table 11.4 Number of live births in Hong Kong to mainland women (2011–2018). 2011 Whose spouses 6,110 are Hong Kong permanent residents Whose spouses are 35,736 not Hong Kong permanent residents1 Others2 2,136 Total 43,982
2012
2013
2014
2015
2016
2018
4,698
4,670
5,179
4,775
4,370
3,826
26,715
790
823
775
606
502
1,786 33,199
37 5,497
22 6,024
16 5,566
3 4,979
6 4,334
Includes Hong Kong non-permanent residents (persons from the mainland having resided in Hong Kong for less than 7 years being grouped in this category) and non-Hong Kong residents. 2 Mainland mothers did not provide the father’s residential status during birth registration. Source: Constitutional and Mainland Affairs Bureau of the HKSAR, https://www.cmab.gov.hk/en/iss ues/child_statistics20.htm (accessed 14 September 2019). 1
70000 60000 50000 40000 30000 20000 10000 0
1997 1998 1999 2000 2001 2002 2003 2004 2005 2006 2007 2008 2009 2010 2011 2012 2013 2014 2015 2016 Immigrants from mainland China with One-Way-Permit Children born in HK by Mainland women whose spouses are permanent HK residents Children born in HK by Mainland women whose spouses are not permanent HK residents Children born in HKby Mainland women who did not specify the residency status of their spouses Total number of children born in HK by Mainland women
Figure 11.2 Mainlander immigration to Hong Kong by OWP and ‘birth tourism’, 1997– 2016. Source: Compiled on the basis of statistical information provided by the Legislative Council of Hong Kong and the Constitutional and Mainland Affairs Bureau of the HKSAR. See http://www.legco.gov.hk/yr11-12/chi nese/panels/hs/papers/hs0507cb2-1863-1-c.pdf and https://www.cmab.gov .hk/en/issues/child_statistics20.htm (accessed 15 September 2019).
in Hong Kong, are granted ROA in the SAR has so far not been changed.33 In fact, this debate continues to feed into widespread resentment against mainlander tourism to Hong Kong and the connected phenomenon of parallel trading across the Shenzhen border, as the many street protests of recent years, some of them running violent, have shown.34 It remains unclear to what extent these protests do express opposition against mainlander immigration as well. However, the overarching narrative of the Hong Kong discourse on mainland Chinese as reflected
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by the media suggests no such distinction: They are framed as a financial burden and social nuisance or as the embodiment of a Chinese sovereignty claim that challenges the Hong Kong identity – one that has been crystallizing steadily since the handover. Student migration from the mainland to Hong Kong is another controversial issue which has been debated in recent years. There are quotas for mainland students at public universities in Hong Kong who obtain grants from the SAR government.35 For the academic year 2018–2019, Hong Kong’s public universities admitted more than 12,000 mainland students. In fact, the number of mainland Chinese students has increased steadily in recent years (see Table 11.5), and they make up, by far, the biggest percentage of non-local students in Hong Kong.36 What is more, there have been a number of clashes between local and mainlander students in recent years, mostly related to Hong Kong’s growing self-assertion as an autonomous entity with an identity distinct from that of China.37 However, these clashes may also highlight latent tensions at Hong Kong’s institutions of higher learning related to the quota system for mainland students which comes with public money for those admitted, causing feelings of discrimination on the part of the local students.38 Finally, there is illegal immigration to Hong Kong, though this problem seems to be much more serious for migrants from countries in Africa, South Asia, and Southeast Asia than from the Chinese mainland. Overall, illegal migration shows a decreasing trend in the SAR (see graph in Figure 11.3).39 The Immigration Department of the HKSAR reported 516 and 697 illegal mainland immigrants for the years 2016 and 2017, respectively (see Table 11.6), who had come to take up jobs or just overstayed their visas.40 They mostly enter the SAR with a ‘Two-Way Permit’ (or ‘Entry-Exit Permit’) that allows PRC citizens to visit Hong Kong for a designated period of time. At least before the handover, this system was mostly abused by mainland Chinese people in order to enter Hong Kong and simply overstay the visa duration at the homes of their relatives with the intention to remain in Hong Kong. After the handover, the TWP
Table 11.5 Mainland students in Hong Kong. Academic year
Students from Mainland China
2011–2012 2012–2013 2013–2014 2014–2015 2015–2016 2016–2017 2017–2018 2018–2019
8,724 8,937 10,963 11,374 11,610 11,891 12,037 12,322
Source: University Grants Committee, http://cdcf.ugc.edu.hk/cdcf/indepthAn alysis.do (accessed 15 September 2019).
The politics of immigration in Hong Kong 237 2500
Number of persons
2000
2368
2340 1890 1631
1500 1000
1286 952 736
783
722 465
500 0
2008 2009 2010 2011 2012 2013 2014 2015 2016 2017 Year
Figure 11.3 Illegal immigration from the Chinese mainland, 2008–2017. Source: Immigration Department Annual Report 2016, https://www.immd.gov.hk/p ublications/a_report_2017/en/appendices-16.html (accessed 15 September 2019).
Table 11.6 Enforcement of anti-immigration policies. 2017
2018
Forged travel documents detected 515 Mainland illegal immigrants apprehended and repatriated 697 Illegal workers prosecuted 1,594 Employers of illegal workers prosecuted 275 No. of prosecutions instituted 5,761
418 609 1,341 283 6,059
Source: Immigration Department of the HKSAR, https://www.immd.gov.hk/eng/facts/e nforcement.html (accessed 15 September 2019).
also served mainlander women to enter the SAR for giving birth in Hong Kong hospitals.
The pitfalls of Hong Kong’s immigration policies regarding mainlander citizenship and social exclusion Mainlander immigration to Hong Kong has been continuous and, over time, quite substantial since the handover, in spite of the fact that the central leadership in Beijing and the SAR government agreed to implement strict regulatory measures to control the influx of mainlanders, which was seen as problematic for Hong Kong’s economic and social stability. Public opinion in Hong Kong was critical,
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too. Since the 1999 ‘Right of Abode’ ruling of Hong Kong’s Court of Final Appeal and the SAR government’s prior invocation of a ‘flooding’ of Hong Kong by mainland Chinese children, followed by widespread opposition to mainlander ‘birth tourism’ and, later on, resentment against rich mainlander ‘locusts’ and parallel traders descending on Hong Kong’s commercial districts and shopping centres along the Shenzhen border (see, e.g., Rowan 2016), Hong Kong people have become increasingly negative when it comes to the issue of mainlanders settling in the SAR. This has been accompanied by a stigmatization of legal mainlander immigrants as a burden to Hong Kong’s educational and public health systems, its limited resources for social welfare provision, its internal security, its social values, and its way of life. In fact, scholars have repeatedly documented the social exclusion of many mainlander immigrants who have settled in Hong Kong since the 1990s (see below). So what are the deeper reasons for the widespread resentment against mainlander immigration to Hong Kong? And how does Hong Kong’s immigration regime relate to this sentiment? A brief historical review Looking back at Hong Kong’s post-war history is useful at this point: British control of mainlander immigration started in 1949, when the colonial government put into effect two new ordinances to curb a dramatic inflow of mainlander immigrants at the end of the Chinese Civil war in 1948–1949 through stricter administrative regulation (Ku 2004; Mizuoka 2017). The China–Hong Kong border had been porous and mainlander immigration hardly policed before. In 1950, the British agreed with the mainland authorities to accept all Chinese citizens who had been issued exit permits from the Chinese government as residents in Hong Kong.41 This was the introduction of the ‘One-Way Permit’ system which exists to this very day (Law and Lee 2006: 219; see also Lam and Liu 1998). In June 1951, the British established a ‘Frontier Closed Area’ along the border with China which was gradually expanded over the ensuing years, reaching its largest expanse in 1962. However, the effect of this measure on illegal immigration from mainland China was limited at best, as was the political reserve to enforce it. When the catastrophic ‘Great Leap Forward’ and ‘Great Proletarian Cultural Revolution’ resulted in massive refugee pressure on Hong Kong during the 1960s and leftist forces infiltrated Hong Kong to mobilize against the British in the latter part of the decade, the mood changed in Hong Kong and the colonial government gradually embarked on a new policy approach to contain illegal immigration from China. Starting in the early 1960s, it enacted a series of Immigration Bills to restrict the scope of British citizenship to exclude ethnic Chinese from gaining Right of Abode in the United Kingdom (Jowett et al. 1995). The Immigration Bill of 1971 was the first to define who was entitled to enter and reside in the territory. It introduced the category ‘Hong Kong belonger’ for those who had the right to freedom from removal and deportation. A Hong Kong belonger had to be born in Hong Kong and had to attest political allegiance to Britain. After strong protests by the Chinese elite in the territory, the
The politics of immigration in Hong Kong 239 colonial government amended the bill by introducing the category of ‘Chinese resident’, ‘a person who was wholly or partly of Chinese race and who had been an ordinary resident in Hong Kong for a continuous period of seven or more years’ (Ku 2004: 345). Henceforth, it was ‘ethnic affinity’ and ‘settled residence’ which constituted the right of permanent residency in Hong Kong (ibid.), and immigrants could become ‘Chinese residents’ after seven years of continuously having stayed there. In 1974, the colonial government established the ‘Touch-Base Policy’, which allowed mainlanders, who had entered the colony illegally but were not spotted by British border patrols and made it to the urban areas (reaching South of Boundary Street, the ‘traditional’ borderline between Kowloon and the New Territories), to stay and obtain a Hong Kong residency card. As a consequence, ‘managing’ immigration became a lucrative business for crime gangs who smuggled mainlanders into Hong Kong to work on construction sites, in factories and in the low-paid services sector (Kwong 1993). In fact, the ‘Touch-Base Policy’ was an ambivalent institution: It signalled both the determination of the British to police illegal immigration more effectively, which was now perceived as a serious problem causing social havoc in Hong Kong,42 and their concurrent willingness to satisfy an urgent demand in the territory for cheap mainland labour in order to ensure continuous economic development. The ‘Touch Base Policy’ finally became irrelevant when China launched its ‘reform and opening’ (gaige kaifang) programme in 1978 and migration saw less domestic regulation on the mainland. Again, as a consequence, Hong Kong was confronted with a massive influx of illegal immigration. Concurrently, the Hong Kong economy underwent structural change, as its major export industries, textile and clothing, faced Western protectionism and increasing competition from other industrializing countries (Law and Lee 2006: 232). The demand for cheap labour decreased as factories in Hong Kong were shifted to the mainland – mainly to the Pearl River Delta – and the colony gradually transformed into a hub for global administrative and financial services. What was needed for this transformation was highly skilled human capital and new policies to attract it. Hence, in 1980 the colonial government officially abolished the ‘Touch-Base Policy’ and decreed that all people residing in Hong Kong must carry identification cards or be heavily fined. Employers hiring illegal immigrants from the mainland could be imprisoned for one year. In 1982, a new agreement was reached between the British and the Chinese government to restrict the issuance of OWPs to 74 mainland immigrants a day (Law and Lee 2006: 220), and henceforth, all Hong Kong residents had to obtain a residency card. The quota went up to 105 in 1993 and to 150 in 1995, where it has been ever since.43 This certainly did not stop illegal mainlander immigration, as there was still demand for low-skilled labour in the traditional sectors of the Hong Kong economy and rising demand in the construction industry, reflecting the growing significance of the Hong Kong real estate market and the building boom following the colonial government’s new social housing policy launched in the early 1970s. As a matter of fact, illegal immigration of low-skilled workers continued throughout the 1980s and 1990s
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before it started to decline (see table figures in Law and Lee 2006: 221), while the influx of skilled labour and professionals steadily increased. This development has produced two very different constituencies of mainlander immigrants in post-colonial Hong Kong: Whereas low-skilled mainlanders can only (and do) enter via the strictly regulated ‘One-Way Permit’ system mainly meant for family reunion, highly skilled professionals, entrepreneurs, and wealthy investors can make use of the above-mentioned preference policies which offer them a short-track into the SAR. As indicated earlier, starting from the early 1970s, the British put into effect a number of social policies in order to weaken leftist influence and diminish Communist propaganda in Hong Kong. In 1973, the colonial government announced a new ten-year plan to provide public housing, mostly tiny apartments, for some 1.8 million people.44 Moreover, the colonial government invested in new public schools, decreed mandatory education up to the age of 15, built up a public health system, and introduced limited social assistance for the elderly, disabled, and poor (Law and Lee 2006; Lee and Yip 2006). Access to these schemes was of course restricted to those with Hong Kong residence, and mainlander immigrants who had entered via the OWP system were excluded from them until they had stayed legally in Hong Kong for a specified period of time. Also, most new mainlander arrivals had to move to poor residential districts throughout the SAR, for example, Sham Shui Po, Kwun Tong (both in Kowloon), or Yuen Long and Tuen Mun (both in the New Territories). Hence, the above-mentioned policies, which were continuously institutionalized and further developed after the handover, the concurrent social (and spatial) exclusion of mainlander immigrants, and their stigmatization as unqualified, ignorant, rude, and greedy produced a narrative that set Hong Kong people (xianggangren) and newly arrived mainland Chinese (daluren) apart from one another, contributing to the rise and gradual consolidation of a Hong Kong identity distinct from that of ‘China’. Post-handover development How much this ‘mainlander narrative’ and a general feeling that Hong Kong people were different from Chinese people had already taken root in the SAR, shortly after the time of the handover, became most manifest in the ‘Rights of Abode’ controversy on the issue of mainland spouses and children immigrating to Hong Kong after July 1, 1997 (for details see Price and Ho 2012). In January 1999, Hong Kong’s Court of Final Appeal ruled in favour of the unrestricted immigration of children of Hong Kong residents no matter whether they or their parents held Right of Abode, i.e., a title of permanent residency at the time of their children’s birth. This verdict sent shock waves through Hong Kong. The SAR government estimated that some 1.6 million mainlanders would become eligible for immigration to Hong Kong over the next decade, causing serious bottlenecks in the provision of public goods and unmanageable social problems. Several opinion polls at the time suggested that a broad majority among the populace opposed the court decision and sided with the SAR government. The latter then submitted an official request to the Standing Committee of China’s National People’s Congress
The politics of immigration in Hong Kong 241 to interpret the relevant Article 24 of the Basic Law, undermining Hong Kong autonomy in the eyes of many. Eventually, the NPC ruled in accordance with the SAR government’s position that only those children born outside Hong Kong can obtain Right of Abode with at least one parent who at the time of their birth was a permanent Hong Kong resident. The 1999 ROA controversy (see also Ku 2001) has been called a post-handover turning point for public opinion in Hong Kong on mainlander immigration, but in fact, it only exacerbated a long-term prejudice that mainlanders were a threat for the stability and prosperity of Hong Kong – a prejudice that had become a narrative as early as the 1970s when the British colonial government launched the above-mentioned policies to ease the existing social cleavages in the territory. As mentioned above, the negative perception of newly arrived mainlander immigrants has been as much a result of the structural transformation of Hong Kong’s post-industrial economy as it has been the result of a process of identity formation which made ‘Hong Kong people’ and ‘mainland Chinese’ two different social constituencies within the SAR – a distinction considerably driven by the colonial policies. Nevertheless, against the background of profound demographic changes, the SAR government had to take a more positive approach to mainlander immigration after the handover in order to attract highly educated talent, badly needed to safeguard Hong Kong’s economic vitality – hence, as has been shown, the introduction of several recruitment schemes for highly skilled professionals, entrepreneurs, investors, and students from the mainland. As a consequence, two different mainlander immigrant constituencies co-exist in Hong Kong today, one of which has been economically and socially marginalized: While those mainlander immigrants coming (with their dependants) via the official recruitment schemes belong to the most aspiring and qualified strata of Chinese society,45 those who have been running through the OWP system, on average, earn less than Hong Kong residents, have lower educational attainments, and mostly work in unattractive sectors of the SAR’s economy; they also have less access to comprehensive social security assistance and public housing in comparison to Hong Kong residents (see e.g. Law and Lee 2006) (though in fact only account for a fracture of CSSA payments).46 Nevertheless, they are stigmatized as ‘lazy, dependent, unproductive and uncompetitive’ (Ku 2004: 355), negatively affecting access to education for Hong Kong people and abusing Hong Kong’s social welfare schemes (Fong and Guo 2018), thus making them second-class citizens in Hong Kong’s achievementoriented society.47 Put differently, whereas the former are welcomed by the SAR government and Hong Kong’s economic elite, the latter are often ostracized as ‘new immigrants’ who threaten the well-being of the Hong Kong people; they are the ‘excluded other’ whose presence, to a considerable extent, feeds into Hong Kong’s identity formation process.48 In the current atmosphere of heightened political tensions in the SAR and against a background of protests against mainlander tourism and parallel trade for some years now (Ip 2015, Rowan 2016),49 the 2014 ‘Umbrella Movement’ and its aftermath (Orthmann 2015; Cheng 2016), the rise of ‘Hong Kong localism’ as the tipping point of Hong Kong identity formation, and the coming to the fore of a
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small, though increasingly tenacious Hong Kong independence movement (for an overview of Hong Kong’s many ‘localist’ groups and political parties see Kwong 2016; Kaeding 2017; Veg 2017), mainlanders – no matter if they are post-handover immigrants or just tourists – are met with much suspicion and disdain in Hong Kong today, though it is hard to tell how deep such feelings go and how far they reach out into Hong Kong’s society. In any case, these developments and trends have revitalized the prevailing narrative in Hong Kong that mainlander immigration is a threat, both economically and politically. Anti-mainlander activism from organizations like the Population Policy Concern Group, which advocates a ‘local first’ policy and is strongly opposed to the OWP system because of the burden it brings to Hong Kong’s education, welfare, and urban planning policies, is widely reported by the Hong Kong media. Also, it is well known in the SAR that PRC-leaning hometown associations and trade unions, which cater for mainlander immigrants, provide social services and try to mobilize their members to cast votes for Beijing-friendly parties in elections.50 This is of little help for those who think that Hong Kong’s immigration regime must be liberalized, particularly in the realm of refugee protection and international labour migration due to demographic change, like in most of the world’s industrial societies.
Conclusion This chapter has analyzed Hong Kong’s immigration regime by mainly looking at the regulation of mainlander immigration after the handover in 1997. Overall, Hong Kong’s policies have done little to reduce the social gap between Hong Kong residents and most mainlander immigrants but have rather broadened this gap and thus, co-produced much of the contemporary anti-mainlander resentment in Hong Kong society. This resentment has become arguably stronger in recent years as a result of a widespread perception among the Hong Kong populace that the SAR’s autonomy is gradually eroding, particularly since the inauguration of the current Chinese leadership under Xi Jinping, and further aggravated by a feeling of relative economic decline vis-à-vis China which goes hand in hand with accusations of internal colonization against mainlanders (Chinese ‘locusts’). From a historical perspective, Hong Kong’s immigration regime has always worked in accordance with its economic development policies, much like in other parts of East Asia and the ‘developing world’: It is primarily assigned the task of safeguarding Hong Kong’s economic prosperity and political stability. There is also much ethnic chauvinism against non-Chinese immigration, which can be seen in the way refugees from South Asia and Africa are treated in Hong Kong. Generally speaking, immigration policies in Hong Kong are certainly not restrictive vis-à-vis mainland Chinese per se, and in fact, the OWP system does offer them at least a trajectory into the SAR that is closed to other migrants. But it is mainlander immigration that clearly dominates the public and official discourses on Hong Kong’s immigration regime. Most significantly, since the late days of the colonial era, and particularly after the handover, this regime has slowly evolved into a political instrument, designed to assert a distinct Hong Kong identity and drawing a clear line between Hong Kong people and mainland Chinese people.
The politics of immigration in Hong Kong 243 There is some irony in the fact that, although it should promote economic and social integration between mainland China and Hong Kong, Hong Kong’s immigration regime is captured by social forces stretching across all strata of Hong Kong society that wish to protect Hong Kong from further mainlander ‘intrusion’ and to safeguard its political autonomy by strengthening a distinct Hong Kong identity. This generates a rising degree of alienation between the people across the border separating Hong Kong and mainland China, which does not bode well for the political future of the SAR.
Notes 1 See, e.g., ‘Quangang zhengyi neidi xinyimin – xianggang bu gaoxing? (The whole of Hong Kong debates newly arrived immigrants from the mainland – Is Hong Kong not happy?)’, Southern Weekly (Nanfang Zhoumo), 29 April 2011, http://news.sina.com .cn/c/sd/2011-04-29/155922382665.shtml (accessed 3 August 2018); ‘Why living in Hong Kong as mainland Chinese is no piece of cake’, South China Morning Post, 21 May 2013, https://www.scmp.com/comment/insight-opinion/article/1242671/living -hong-kong-mainlander-no-piece-cake (accessed 3 August 2018). 2 Besides the quoted official sources, see also Bailey and Lau 2013; Lam and Tu 2015. 3 Mainland residents must apply for a ‘One-Way Permit’ (OWP) from the Exit and Entry Administration Offices of the Public Security Bureau at the places of their household registration in mainland China. The biggest group of people admitted to resettle in Hong Kong each year are mainlanders who reunite with their spouses or parents. Much smaller is the number of children transferring to Hong Kong on an OWP ticket. See also http://www.info.gov.hk/gia/general/201303/20/P201303200372.htm (accessed 31 July 2018). 4 According to an official mainland announcement quoted by a Hong Kong official in 2013, a mainland citizen can apply for an OWP, if (1) his/her spouse is settled in Hong Kong and therefore can bring along children aged under 18; (2) he/she is aged above 18 and under 60 and needs to come to Hong Kong to take care of his/her parents settled in Hong Kong, both of who are aged above 60 and have no children in Hong Kong; (3) he/she is aged above 60 and has no children in the mainland, and has to depend on his/ her children aged above 18 settled in Hong Kong; (4) he/she is aged under 18 and has to depend on his/her parents settled in Hong Kong and (5) he/she is a child of Hong Kong permanent residents and holds a Certificate of Entitlement (http://www.info.gov.hk/gia /general/201303/20/P201303200372.htm, accessed 26 July 2018). 5 They can enter Hong Kong on a ‘Two-Way Permit’ before their OWP is admitted but then must renew it every three months by returning to the mainland. However, TWP holders are not entitled to work in the SAR. 6 ‘Red tape, money woes and a frosty welcome: mainland Chinese moving to Hong Kong’, South China Morning Post, 5 April 2019 (https://www.scmp.com/news/hong -kong/society/article/3004751/red-tape-money-woes-and-frosty-welcome-mainland-c hinese, accessed 7 April 2019). 7 See the press release of the SAR government of 30 November 2016: https://www.info .gov.hk/gia/general/201611/30/P2016113000657.htm, (accessed 7 April 2019) 8 See ‘Immigration Department Review 2018’, https://www.info.gov.hk/gia/general /201902/01/P2019020100558.htm (accessed 14 September 2019). All given figures from the subsequent employment schemes are cited from this document. 9 In a different statistical overview provided by the Immigration Department, however, the figure of successful applications under this scheme for 2018 is 15,254 (https://w ww.immd.gov.hk/eng/facts/visa-control.html, accessed 14 September 2019). For the motivations and expectations of highly skilled mainlanders resettling in Hong Kong, see Wang 2013.
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10 In a different statistical overview provided by the Immigration Department, however, the figure of successful applications under this scheme for 2018 is 12,624 (https://www .immd.gov.hk/eng/facts/visa-control.html, accessed 14 September 2019. 11 For details see http://www.hongkongvisageeza.com/wp-content/uploads/2014 /03/Essay-of-Supplementary-Labour-Scheme-March-21-20141.pdf (accessed 14 September 2019). 12 For details see Immigration Department of the HKSAR, https://www.immd.gov.hk/eng /services/visas/capital_investment_entrant_scheme.html (accessed 27 July 2018). 13 Besides the objective of attracting long-term entrepreneurial investment, several other assumptions were made by observers as to why this decision was taken. The scheme explicitly barred mainland Chinese passport holders from applying in order to contain the transfer of ill-gotten gains from mainland China to Hong Kong and, from there, to other global destinations. However, rich mainlanders could easily circumvent this regulation by getting passports from African countries like Gambia and Guinea-Bissau and then registering as nationals of those countries. Other reasons given were the cooling of the property market (as mainlander capital was foremost invested in expensive Hong Kong real estate) and the easing anti-mainlander sentiments in Hong Kong. See ‘CY Leung announces suspension of immigration investor scheme’, South China Morning Post, 15 January 2015, https://www.scmp.com/news/hong-kong/article/1679775/cyleung-announces-suspension-immigration-investor-scheme (accessed 27 July 2018); ‘Few migrants who joined suspended investor visa scheme got Hong Kong ID cards: source’, South China Morning Post, 16 January 2015, https://www.scmp.com/news/ hong-kong/article/1680369/few-migrants-who-joined-suspended-investor-visa-schem e-got-hong-kong (accessed 7 April 2019). 14 This figure was given in the Immigration Department Review 2017, whereas in the ensuing 2018 Review, the Capital Investment Entrant Scheme was not mentioned anymore. 15 See corresponding table published by the Immigration Department of the HKSAR, https ://www.immd.gov.hk/eng/facts/visa-control.html (accessed 14 September 2019). Note that the spouses of permanent Hong Kong residents do not automatically obtain Right of Abode when they come to the SAR but can, initially, only apply for a ‘Dependant Resident Permit’. 16 According to Hong Kong’s Immigration Ordinance, Right of Abode is granted to (a) a Chinese citizen born in Hong Kong before or after the establishment of the HKSAR; (b) a Chinese citizen who has ordinarily resided in Hong Kong for a continuous period of no less than seven years before or after the establishment of the HKSAR; (c) a person of Chinese nationality born outside of Hong Kong before or after the establishment of the HKSAR to a parent who, at the time of birth of that person, was a Chinese citizen falling within category (a) or (b). The person’s Right of Abode, by virtue of being a permanent resident of the HKSAR under category (c), can only be exercised upon the establishment of the status as a permanent resident by holding a valid travel document and a valid Certificate of Entitlement affixed to the travel document; a valid HKSAR passport; or a valid permanent identity card. See ‘Eligibility for the Right of Abode in the HKSAR’, Immigration Department of the Government of the HKSAR, https ://www.immd.gov.hk/eng/services/roa/eligible.html (accessed 26 July 2018). For the complete content of the Immigration Ordinance see https://www.elegislation.gov.hk /hk/cap115?pmc=0&xpid=ID_1438402608660_003&m=0&pm=1 (accessed 26 July 2018). 17 The SAR Hong Kong has not signed the UN Refugee Convention from 1951 and its 1967 protocol, thus insisting that political asylum is not granted by the SAR. The SAR Macao, however, has done so. See also Loper 2014. 18 An asylum seeker in Hong Kong is either someone who makes an official claim for torture and/or non-refoulement protection and is awaiting confirmation (or rejection) of that claim by the Hong Kong authorities; or someone whose claim has been substantiated under the ‘Unified Screening Mechanism’ of the Immigration Department of the
The politics of immigration in Hong Kong 245
19 20
21 22
23
24
25 26 27
28 29
HKSAR, whose case has then been referred to the UNHCR for recognition as a refugee and who awaits being resettled to a third county. This can take several years and sometimes even more than a decade. For details on the official procedure of assessing a claim on non-refoulement protection see Immigration Department of the HKSAR, https://www.immd.gov.hk/eng/useful_ information/non-refoulement-making-claim.html (accessed 28 July 2018). See ‘Asylum seekers in Hong Kong who are trying to make the best out a bad situation’, South China Morning Post, 27 December 2017, https://www.scmp.com/news /hong-kong/community/article/2125679/asylum-seekers-hong-kong-who-are-tryin g-make-best-out-bad (accessed 28 July 2018); See ‘Explainer: how Hong Kong has for decades been a magnet for refugees and migrants’, South China Morning Post, 23 December 2017, https://www.scmp.com/news/hong-kong/community/article/2 125451/explainer-how-hong-kong-has-decades-been-magnet-refugees (accessed 14 September 2019). Another 546 cases have been outstanding as of the end of 2018. See statistics provided by the Immigration Department of the HKSAR, https://www.immd.gov.hk/eng/facts/e nforcement.html (14 September 2019). As in the case of the Global Compact for Safe, Orderly and Regular Migration, the Hong Kong government has been mute so far on the Global Compact on Refugees adopted by the United Nations General Assembly in December 2018. It is therefore unclear to what extent, or if at all, it subscribes to the principles of global burden- and responsibility sharing to protect refugees and support host countries, as enshrined in this non-binding UN document. For the latest available figures at the time of writing see Census and Statistics Department of the HKSAR, Demographic Trends in Hong Kong 1986-2016, https:/ /www.censtatd.gov.hk/hkstat/sub/sp150.jsp?productCode=B1120017 (accessed 15 September 2019). Until the implementation of the ‘zero-quota policy’ in early 2013, public hospitals have followed a policy of unconditional acceptance of pregnant women who were about to deliver when they suddenly appear at the Accident and Emergent Departments. They were charged the regular fees, which are heavily subsidized by the public purse. However, mainland mothers do not obtain ROA in such cases. See ‘Government respects right of abode ruling’, http://www.info.gov.hk/gia/general/200107/20/07203 44.htm (accessed 29 July 2018). For more detailed statistical information see https://www.cmab.gov.hk/en/issues/child_ statistics20.htm and http://www.legco.gov.hk/yr11-12/chinese/panels/hs/papers/hs0 507cb2-1863-1-c.pdf. The major concerns were (1) overcrowding of maternity wards and serious bottlenecks caused by pregnant mainlander women for Hong Kong’s gynaecological, obstetric, paediatric and other medical services; and (2) a perceived distortion of the legal principle, established by the famous 1999 Right of Abode ruling, that only those children obtain residency rights in Hong Kong who have at least one parent with these rights. A further concern is the capacity to the Hong Kong school system once mainlander born children have reached enrolment age. An ‘obstetric package’ for those mainlander women without a booking confirmation certificate was set at HK$ 48,000 in 2007 and increased to HK$ 90,000 in 2012. It currently costs around HK$ 100,000 at public hospitals. In 2017, 52,301 pregnant mainlander women were intercepted at control points, of whom 4,719 had not made a booking for obstetric services at local Hong Kong hospitals and were refused to enter the SAR. Their particulars were passed on to the mainland authorities to prevent them from seeking entry again. See Immigration Department Review 2017, https://www.info.gov.hk/gia/general/201802/13/P2018021300396.htm (accessed 29 July 2017). A booking confirmation certificate is not requested from nonlocal women who are not PRC citizens as these, according to the official point of view,
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31
32
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would only in isolated cases give birth in Hong Kong. See ‘New measures on obstetric services and immigration control announced’ http://www.info.gov.hk/gia/general/ 200701/16/P200701160184.htm (accessed 29 July 2018). At the time, private hospitals also stopped accepting bookings from pregnant mainlander women, whose husbands were not Hong Kong permanent residents, for delivery in Hong Kong. See ‘Government reaffirms its strict enforcement of the “zero quota” policy’, http://www.info.gov.hk/gia/general/201212/28/P201212280415.htm (accessed 29 July 2018). See e.g. ‘Mainland women gate-crashing Hong Kong’s maternity wards, 3 years after CY Leung’s “zero-quota’ policy”, South China Morning Post, 24 April 2016, https ://www.scmp.com/news/hong-kong/health-environment/article/1938268/mainlandwomen-gatecrashing-hong-kongs-maternity (accessed 29 July 2018); ‘Hong Kong must redouble efforts to deter mainland women from giving birth here’, South China Morning Post, 27 April 2016, https://www.scmp.com/comment/insight-opinion/article /1939401/hong-kong-must-redouble-efforts-deter-mainland-women-giving (accessed 29 July 2018). Hong Kong’s ‘government speak’ differentiates between ‘type I’ and ‘type II’ babies, the latter of whom have been born to mainlanders with at least one parent holding permanent residency in the SAR. From the perspective of demographics, it has been claimed by Hong Kong scholars that the SAR government should invite parents of ‘type II’ babies to come to Hong Kong, as these are mostly young professionals who do not claim subsidized social benefits and often work in the understaffed sectors of the Hong Kong economy, like the medical industry (Lam and Tu 2016: 324-325). This would require a reinterpretation of the Basic Law by China’s National People’s Congress to be initiated by the SAR government. Parallel trading has been the focus of Hong Kong NGOs and the Hong Kong media since the early 2000s. The phenomenon refers to the practice of mainlander tourists buying goods in Hong Kong and shuttling them across the Shenzhen border for sale to Chinese customers, making use of the difference of currency value between the Renminbi and the Hong Kong dollar and non-existent duties and taxes on luxury goods and everyday commodities like, most notably, infant formula. Places like Hong Kong’s North District, Tuen Mun, Yuen Long, Tai Po, and Shatin, but also the commercial centres of Tsimshatsui and Causeway Bay, have become hot spots for parallel traders to buy and stockpile goods, leading to traffic congestion, infrastructural bottlenecks and disruptions of the daily lives of residents. Occasionally, parallel trading has also led to food shortages and inflation in Hong Kong. While the Hong Kong government has done little to ban parallel trading, as this requires negotiations with the mainland authorities on a further reduction of mainlander visits from the current arrangement of one visit per week, Hong Kong has seen increasing action by civic groups like the ‘Population Policy Concern Group’ which engage in SAR-wide protests against mainlander parallel trading and tourism. This has aroused much concern among Hong Kong and Chinese government officials, urging them to demand action against anti-mainlander racism in Hong Kong. See e.g. ‘Anti-mainlander protest a reminder of the limits of free speech’, South China Morning Post, 26 February 2014, https://www.scmp.com/comment/insight-opinion/article/1435562/anti-mainlander -protest-reminder-limits-free-speech (accessed 9 April 2019); ‘Hong Kong security chief blasts anti-mainlander protests after suspected traders ‘abused and kicked’, South China Morning Post, 9 March 2015, https://www.scmp.com/news/hong-kong /article/1733503/hong-kong-security-chief-blasts-anti-mainlander-protests-after (accessed 9 April 2019); ‘Concern group urges mainland tourists not to come to Hong Kong during protest at cross-border bus stop’, https://www.hongkongfp.com/2019 /02/04/concern-group-urges-mainland-tourists-not-come-hong-kong-protest-cross-b order-bus-stop/ (accessed 8 April 2019); see also the series of articles compiled by the South China Morning Post under the topic ‘Anti-mainland China sentiments’, 6 April 2019, https://www.scmp.com/topics/anti-mainland-china-sentiments (accessed
The politics of immigration in Hong Kong 247 35 36
37
38 39
40
41
42
43
44 45
8 April 2019), which gives a good account of the current media discourse in Hong Kong on this issue. All mainlander undergraduates must have qualified for first-tier universities in China first before they can apply for a Hong Kong grant to conduct postgraduate studies in the SAR (Gao 2014: 225). For the academic year 2018–2019, there were a total of 18,060 non-local students in Hong Kong, making up 18.4% of all enrolled students in that year (98,034). The ratio of mainlander students to all non-local students stood at 66.2% (12,322). Statistical Information provided by Hong Kong’s University Grants Committee, https://cdcf.ugc .edu.hk/cdcf/searchStatSiteReport.action (accessed 15 September 2019). See e.g. the recent conflict on the campus of Chinese University of Hong Kong: ‘More clashes at Chinese University over independence posters’, South China Morning Post, 17 September 2017, https://www.scmp.com/print/news/hong-kong/education-com munity/article/2111569/more-clashes-chinese-university-over-independence (accessed 8 April 2019). For mainlander student’s motives to study in Hong Kong see Gao 2014 and Xu 2015. Xu’s study does also highlight the manifold conflicts between mainlanders and local students. According to the South China Morning Post between January-November 2017, Hong Kong authorities arrested 837 illegal immigrants from South and South East Asia, a drop of 75% from 2015. See ‘Fewer illegal immigrants arrested in Hong Kong after joint crackdown on people smugglers with mainland police’, South China Morning Post, 8 December 2017, https://www.scmp.com/news/hong-kong/law-crime/article /2123432/fewer-illegal-immigrants-arrested-hong-kong-after-joint (accessed 29 July 2018). See also ‘Explainer: how Hong Kong has for decades been a magnet for refugees and migrants’, South China Morning Post, 23 December 2017, https://www.scmp.com/ news/hong-kong/community/article/2125451/explainer-how-hong-kong-has-decades -been-magnet-refugees (accessed 31 July 2018). As Law and Lee (2006: 2017) noted, ‘in recognition of Hong Kong’s population pressure, the Chinese government would restrict the number of people granted exit permits’. However, the authors didn’t give any numbers. The British authorities, for their part, could not easily shield off Hong Kong as the border was rather open at the time and Chinese cooperation was needed to limit illegal immigration to Hong Kong. Agnes Ku highlights that it was in the late 1970s that a new narrative became entrenched in the political discourse in Hong Kong, which ‘included a keen awareness of the community’s newly achieved prosperity and stability, an alertness to any threat to its collective achievement in society, a strong sense of Hong Kong identity, a feeling of resentment toward the illegal immigrants for posing such a threat, and, most important, a determined will that Hong Kong succeed economically and politically’ (2004: 350). Hence, the dominant discourse against illegal immigration was undergirded by ‘a sense of cultural distinction from the generalized other – namely “mainlanders”’ (2004: 351). See ‘Red tape, money woes and a frosty welcome: mainland Chinese moving to Hong Kong’, https://www.scmp.com/news/hong-kong/society/article/3004751/red-tape-m oney-woes-and-frosty-welcome-mainland-chinese (accessed 7 April 2019). To this very day, the quota system is heavily criticized by Hong Kong scholars for being nontransparent, unfair and corrupt, but also as an alleged means of the mainland authorities to infiltrate Hong Kong with spies and ‘United Front’ cadres, and to ensure critical voter support for the ‘pro-Beijing’ parties during elections. The first housing policies had already been launched in the 1950s, after the shantytown fire at Shek Kip Mei on Christmas Day, which left 53,000 people homeless. See also Lee and Yip 2006. As Lam (2015: 187) reported from surveys, mainlander and foreign professionals usually raise concerns regarding housing prices, air quality and the availability of adequate
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49
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international school placements for their children, resulting in just 38% staying in Hong Kong for three years or more in 2013. According to official Hong Kong figures, in the 2017–2018 financial year HK$ 885 million were allocated to 16,048 people who had been living in the city for less than 7 years, which amounted to 4.8% of all CSSA recipients and 4% of the total CSSA expenditure of HK$ 21.7 billion. It is assumed that those receiving CSSA payments and living in Hong Kong for less than seven years are mostly mainlander immigrants. The figures highlight how little they actually cost the public purse in the SAR. See ‘Red tape, money woes and a frosty welcome: mainland Chinese moving to Hong Kong’, South China Morning Post, 5 April 2019 (https://www.scmp.com/news/hong-kong/ society/article/3004751/red-tape-money-woes-and-frosty-welcome-mainland-chinese, accessed 7 April 2019). See also Lee and Chou 2018: 291. Lee et al. (2016) have studied the exclusionary attitudes towards mainlander immigrants concerning the allocation of welfare benefits. They found that these attitudes were strong. Those mainlanders granted Comprehensive Social Security Assistance (CSSA) are perceived as an economic and social threat and are assigned negative stereotypes. About 73% of those surveyed would deny granting CSSA to mainlander immigrants. Interestingly, exclusionary attitudes were not mediated by rising education levels. Apparently, CSSA granted to mainlander immigrants has strengthened the social boundary between them and Hong Kong residents. Lee and Chou found that two thirds of their respondents in a representative study on Hong Kong people’s attitudes towards mainland Chinese immigrants ‘hold a negative attitude towards new arrivals, suggesting that anti-Mainland sentiment reaches a far wider segment of social groups than simply the “extreme right”’ (2018: 283). They also found that these negative feelings were ultimately related to the crystallization of a distinct Hong Kong identity and not to economic self-interests. Ngo and Li (2016) have studied how mainlander immigrants adapt to this pressure and found that they develop an assimilation attitude that is positively related to sociocultural adaptation and life satisfaction, and that mainlander identity is positively related to perceived discrimination, pointing to a significant sociocultural cleavage between mainlander immigrants and Hong Kong residents. In a recent study, Wong et al. (2016) discuss the impact of mainlander tourism on political trust in the Hong Kong government. They compare the impact of the Individual Visit Scheme (IVS) introduced in 2003, which provides for single entries into the SAR for a specified period of time to visit relatives and do business, with the impact of multi-entry (same day) visits of Shenzhen residents allowed by the Chinese government in 2009, entailing an explosive growth of IVS visitors in the SAR. Generally speaking, the authors find that political trust in the Hong Kong government decreased after the introduction of the multi-entry policy because it enabled mainland Chinese to come to Hong Kong only for the day, resulting in even more congestion in shopping areas, a rise in the notorious parallel trading, shortfalls in the provision of certain commodities and, at least until 2012–2013, more ‘type I’ babies than before. Under much public pressure, entry into Hong Kong by Shenzhen residents was limited to one visit per week in 2015, cutting the number of these visits by approximately 30%. See ‘Shenzhen imposes once-a-week limit on cross-border visits to Hong Kong by permanent residents’, South China Morning Post, 11 April 2015, https://www.scmp.com/news/hong-kong/article/1764274/shenzhen-impo ses-once-week-limit-cross-border-visits-permanent (accessed 3 August 2018). There are few empirical studies so far which try to measure the political behaviour of mainlander immigrants, for instance, how they vote in Hong Kong elections. One of these, based on two representative surveys (Wong et al. 2018), showed that mainlander immigrants are less resistant to paternalistic rule, less likely to identify themselves with or vote for Hong Kong’s ‘democratic parties’, and are strongly predisposed to the status quo and the Hong Kong government. In fact, newly arrived mainlander immigrants are politically mobilized by ‘pro-Chinese’ hometown associations working under the
The politics of immigration in Hong Kong 249 umbrella of the Central Government Liaison Office (CGLO), the de facto branch of the Communist Party in Hong Kong.
References Bailey, Adrian J. and Lau, K.L. Alex (2013) ‘Whither and whence Hong Kong migration studies’. International Migration 53 (5), pp. 61–68. Cheng, Edmund W. (2016) ‘Street politics in a hybrid regime: the diffusion of political activism in post-colonial Hong Kong’. The China Quarterly 226, pp. 383–406. Fong, Eric and Guo, Hua (2018) ‘Immigrant integration and their negative sentiments toward recent immigrants: the case of Hong Kong’. Asian and Pacific Migration Journal 27 (2), pp. 166–189. Gao, Xuesong (2014) ‘“Floating elites”: interpreting mainland Chinese undergraduates’ graduation plans in Hong Kong’. Asia Pacific Education Review 15 (2), pp. 223–235. HKSAR (2018) ‘Immigration Department of the Hong Kong SAR, guidebook for entry for employment as professionals in Hong Kong’, (ID(E) 991 (7/2018)), Hong Kong. https ://www.immd.gov.hk/eng/forms/forms/id-e-991.html Ip, Iam-Chong (2015) ‘Politics of belonging: a study of the campaign against mainland visitors to Hong Kong’. Inter-Asia Cultural Studies 16 (3), pp. 410–421. Jowett, A.J., Findlay, Allan, Li, F.L.N., et al. (1995) ‘The British who are not British and the Immigration policies that are not: the case of Hong Kong’. Applied Geography 15 (3), pp. 245–265. Kaeding, Malte Philipp (2017) ‘The rise of “Localism” in Hong Kong’. Journal of Democracy 28 (1), pp. 157–171. Ku, Agnes S. (2001) ‘Hegemonic construction, negotiation and displacement: the struggle over right of abode in Hong Kong’. International Journal of Cultural Studies 4 (3), pp. 259–278. Ku, Agnes S. (2004) ‘Immigration policies, discourses, and the politics of local belonging in Hong Kong (1950–1980)’. Modern China 30 (3), pp. 326–360. Kwong, Paul C.K. (1993) ‘Internationalization and population of families’. In Choi Po-king and Ho, Lok-sang (eds.) The Other Hong Kong Report 1993. Hong Kong: Chinese University Press, pp. 147–174. Kwong, Ying-ho (2016) ‘The growth of “localism” in Hong Kong’. China Perspectives 3, pp. 63–68. Lai, Ada Pui Yim and Kennedy, Kerry J. (2017) ‘Refugees and civic stratification: the “Asian rejection” hypothesis and its implications for protection claimants in Hong Kong’. Asian and Pacific Migration Journal 26 (2), pp. 206–223. Lam, Gigi and Tu, Edward Jow-Ching (2015) ‘Hong Kong’s population policies on immigration: challenges and feasibility’. Asian Education and Development Studies 4 (2), pp. 180–189. Lam, Gigi and Tu, Edward Jow-Ching (2016) ‘Population policy regarding mainland Chinese female’s contribution of Hong Kong fertility’. Asian Education and Development Studies 5 (3), pp. 318–326. Lam, Kit-Chun and Liu, Pak-Wai (1998) Immigration and the Economy of Hong Kong. Hong Kong: City University of Hong Kong Press. Law, Kam-yee and Lee, Kim-ming (2006) ‘Citizenship, economy and social exclusion of mainland Chinese immigrants in Hong Kong’. Journal of Contemporary Asia 36 (2), pp. 217–242.
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Lee, James and Yip, Ngai-ming (2006) ‘Public housing and family life in East Asia: housing history and social change in Hong Kong 1953–1993’. Journal of Family History 31 (1), pp. 66–82. Lee, Siu-yau, and Chou, Kee-Lee (2018) ‘Explaining attitudes towards immigrants from mainland China in Hong Kong’. Asian and Pacific Migration Journal 27 (3), pp. 273–298. Lee, Siu-Yau, Ng, Isabella F.S. and Chou, Kee-Lee (2016) ‘Exclusionary attitudes toward the allocation of welfare benefits to Chinese immigrants in Hong Kong’. Asian and Pacific Migration Journal 25 (1), pp. 41–61. Leung, Maggi (2015) ‘“One county, two systems”, “one city, two systems”: citizenship as a stage for politics of mobility and bordering practices in Hong Kong’. Migration Letters 13 (1), pp. 49–63. Loper, Kelley A. (2014) ‘Human rights, non-refoulement and the protection of refugees in Hong Kong’. International Journal of Refugee Law 22 (3), pp. 404–439. Mizuoka, Fujio (2017) ‘British colonialism and “illegal” immigration from mainland China to Hong Kong’. In Onjo, Akio, Koji, Nakashima, Fukuda, Tamami, et al. (eds.) Power Relations, Situated Practices, and the Politics of the Commons. Osaka: Kyushu University, pp. 33–66. Ngo, Hang-yue and Li, Hui (2016) ‘Cultural identity and adaptation of mainland Chinese immigrants in Hong Kong’. American Behavioral Scientist 60 (5–6), pp. 730–749. Orthmann, Stephan (2015) ‘The umbrella movement and Hong Kong’s protracted democratization process’. Asian Affairs 46 (1), pp. 32–50. Price, Rohan Bruce Edward and Ho, John Kong Shan (2012) ‘Mainlanders as “others” in the life and law of Hong Kong’. King’s Law Journal 23, pp. 233–255. Rowan, Ian (2016) ‘The geopolitics of tourism: mobilities, territory, and protest in China, Taiwan, and Hong Kong’. Annals of the American Association of Geographers 106 (2), pp. 385–393. Vecchio, Francesco and Ham, Julie (2018) ‘From subsistence of resistance: asylum-seekers and the other “occupy” in Hong Kong’. Critical Social Policy 38 (2), pp. 201–221. Veg, Sebastian (2017) ‘The rise of “localism” and civic identity in post-handover Hong Kong: questioning the Chinese nation-state’. China Quarterly 230, pp. 323–347. Wang, Cangbai (2013) ‘Place of desire: skilled migration from mainland China to postcolonial Hong Kong’. Asia Pacific Viewpoint 53 (3), pp. 388–397. Wong, Kevin Tze-wai, Zheng, Victor and Wan, Po-san (2016) ‘The impact of cross-border integration with mainland China on Hong Kong’s local politics: the individual visit scheme as a double-edged sword for political trust in Hong Kong’. China Quarterly 228, pp. 1081–1104. Wong, Stan Hok-Wui, Ma, Ngok and Lam, Wai-man (2018) ‘Immigrants as voters in electoral autocracies: the case of mainland Chinese immigrants in Hong Kong’. Journal of East Asian Studies 18 (1), pp. 67–95. Xu, Cora Lingling (2015) ‘When the Hong Kong dream meets the anti-mainlandisation discourse: mainland Chinese students in Hong Kong’. Journal of Current Chinese Affairs 3, pp. 15–47.
Appendix Tables 11.7, 11.8 and 11.9
34,403 9,229 2,739 208 10,269 108 3,852 97,936 1,656 18,528 10,047 19,056 60,515 379 458,523 354 9,238 304,174 473
31,676 9,313 4,855 373 10,375 2,543 95,060 1,448 19,606 9,619 20,029 61,331 594 450,113 575 8,578 321,178 484
Employment Visas under ‘General Employment Policy’ Employment Visas under ‘Admission Scheme for Mainland Talents and Professionals’ Entry Visas under ‘Capital Investment Entrant Scheme’1 Quotas Allotted under ‘Quality Migrant Admission Scheme’ Visas under ‘Immigration Arrangements for Non-local Graduates’ Visas under ‘Admission Scheme for the Second Generation of Chinese Hong Kong Permanent Residents’* Employment Visas under ‘Supplementary Labour Scheme’ Employment Visas for foreign domestic helpers Entry Visas under ‘Working Holiday Scheme’ Student Visas Mainland Residents Non-Mainland Residents Dependant Visas Visit Visas for foreigners Taiwan Visit Permits Pre-arrival Registration for Taiwan Residents HKSAR Travel Passes APEC Business Travel Cards Extension of Stay for visitors and temporary residents Re-entry Visas 3,545 95,544 2,033 18,887 10,383 18,421 62,354 205 488,930 326 10,852 306,803 407
2,667 273 9,289 127
35,997 10,404
2016
3,982 95,348 1,812 21,545 11,103 28,805 63,948 118 480,725 308 12,091 305,329 407
2,640 411 9,331 80
39,952 12,381
2017
2
1
‘Capital Investment Entrant Scheme’ has been suspended since 15 January 2015. ‘Admission Scheme for the Second Generation of Chinese Hong Kong Permanent Residents’ was implemented on 4 May 2015. Source: Immigration Department of the HKSAR, Annual Report 2017, Appendix 5, https://www.immd.gov.hk/publications/a_report_2016/en/appendices-05.html (accessed 14 September 2019).
2015
2014
Category
Table 11.7 Total numbers of visas and entry permits issued (2014–2017).
The politics of immigration in Hong Kong 251
Marriages registered in Hong Kong
31,143
24,176 20,713 21,441 23,853 21,102
25,682 25,280 26,697
Year
1996
2001 2002 2003 2004 2005
2006 2007 2008
Both bridegrooms and brides are Hong Kong residents
18,182 15,978 14,206
5,169 7,724 10,185 13,126 16,775
2,215
9,963 5,910 4,797
13,211 10,127 7,501 7,842 8,094
22,349
28,145 21,888 19,003
18,380 17,851 17,686 20,968 24,869
24,564
Marriages Issue of Certificate of Total registered in Hong Absence of Marriage Kong Records2
3,406 2,490 2,409
723 977 1,324 1,888 2,726
269
3,077 1,825 1,539
1,636 1,394 1,083 1,504 2,193
1,552
6,483 4,315 3,948
2,359 2,371 2,407 3,392 4,919
1,821
Marriages Issue of Certificate of Total registered in Hong Absence of Marriage Kong Records2
Bridegrooms are Hong Kong residents and brides from Brides are Hong Kong residents and bridegrooms the Mainland1 from the Mainland1
Table 11.8 Number of marriages registered in Hong Kong with both bridegrooms and brides being Hong Kong residents, bridegrooms/brides from the Mainland, and number of issuance of certificate of absence of marriage records (claimed for the purpose of marrying in the Mainland) in selected years.
252 Gunter Schubert
30,903 32,523 28,837 30,212 28,359
27,289
2011 2012 2013 2014 2015
2016
12,303
16,506 16,930 15,737 15,266 13,123
13,751 15,400
2,997
3,806 3,691 3,429 3,379 3,031
4,394 3,791
15,300
20,312 20,621 19,166 18,645 16,154
18,145 19,191
5,064
4,129 4,930 5,293 5,432 4,830
2,599 3,259
2,562
1,738 1,987 2,151 2,253 2,306
1,595 1,577
7,626
5,867 6,917 7,444 7,685 7,136
4,194 4,836
1
Before the reference year of 2010, the figures of bridegrooms/brides from the mainland are estimated with reference to two data items in the individual registered marriage records provided by the Immigration Department on a monthly basis, viz. ‘place of previous residence’ being in the mainland and ‘duration of stay in Hong Kong’ being less than one year. The figure thus compiled might have included one-way permit holders entering Hong Kong and getting married in less than one year. Nevertheless, it still provides a good proxy indicator to cross-boundary marriage statistics. Since the reference year of 2010, besides the above two data items, more information (e.g. holding of travel document type) is used to enhance the estimates of bridegrooms/brides from the mainland. 2 Since applicants with issuance of Certificate of Absence of Marriage Records (claimed for the purpose of marrying in the mainland) may not eventually lead to marriages, the figures only serve as a proxy indicator to cross-boundary marriage statistics. Source: Census and Statistics Department of the HKSAR, Marriage and Divorce Trends in Hong Kong, 1991 to 2016, January 2018, https://www.censtatd.gov.hk/hk stat/sub/sp160.jsp?productCode=FA100055 (accessed 15 September 2019).
31,227 27,534
2009 2010
The politics of immigration in Hong Kong 253
281,228 4,453 285,681
F M
F M
F M
Total
Thailand
Others
Total 312,395
307,491 4,904
3,454 746
2,958 32
149,072 164
152,007 3,962
2012
330,650
325,564 5,086
4,612 772
2,614 36
149,632 205
168,706 4,073
2014
351,513
346,078 5,435
5,064 812
2,429 30
153,823 250
184,762 4,343
2016
(1) Figures refer to those who have a valid limit of stay in Hong Kong as a foreign domestic helper as at end of the year. Source: https://www.censtatd.gov.hk/hkstat/sub/gender/labour_force/ (accessed 14 September 2019).
3,005 727
3,651 44
140,811 130
F M
Indonesia
133,761 3,552
2010
F M
Sex
Philippines
Nationality
Table 11.9 Foreign domestic helpers(1) by nationality and sex.
369,651
364,037 5,614
5,628 852
2,435 33
159,355 258
196,619 4,471
2017
386,075
380,274 5,804
6,016 863
2,357 35
165,620 287
201,681 4,616
2018
254 Gunter Schubert
Part II
Japan and Korea
12 ‘This is not an immigration policy’ The 2018 immigration reform and the future of immigration and citizenship in Japan1 Michael Strausz
Introduction In the late 1980s, Japan was facing a crisis of labour shortages. By 1988, there were 1.53 job openings for every new job seeker, which was the highest that ratio had been since 1973. That ratio would grow to 1.85 in 1989 and to 2.07 in 1990 (see Figure 12.1 for a graphic depiction of these trends). Some bureaucrats – particularly from the Ministry of Labour – as well as some politicians and business people advocated the creation of new visa categories for various kinds of low-skilled labourers in order to address this labour shortage. However, others, including Ministry of Justice bureaucrats as well as other politicians and business people, opposed any policy that would permit the admission of foreign low-skilled labourers to the domestic labour market. Instead, this second group advocated formalizing and expanding a practice that had begun in the late 1960s of admitting foreign labourers as ‘trainees’; according to this group’s thinking, trainees would be more like students than foreign labourers, and it would be relatively easy to send trainees back to their countries of origin after their training period was over. The trainee programme was technically a development programme, and thus trainees settling in Japan after their period of training would violate the spirit of the programme, since the trainees would not be using their new skills to improve their countries of origin. Ultimately, those advocating the admission of ‘trainees’ instead of ‘foreign labourers’ won the debate, and the 1989 revision to the Immigration Control and Refugee Recognition Act (ICRRA) created a trainee visa, as well as a ‘long-term residency visa’, which was restricted to those with Japanese ancestors (this visa is the source of the Brazilian and Peruvian–Japanese communities that currently live in Japan).2 In the last several years, Japan has faced labour shortages even more severe than it faced in the late 1980s. This crisis has been accelerating because of Japan’s ageing and declining population – a dual trend neatly captured by the Japanese language moniker shōshikōreikai. Schoppa (2006: 151) shows how the Japanese state was relatively late to recognize shōshikōreikai as a problem. However, that has changed in recent years (Vogel 2018; Rosenbluth 2007; Shirahase 2015), as the population of Japan has fallen every year since 2011 by an average of 193,000
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Figure 12.1 Japan’s job seeker’s ratio. Source: Generated by author with data from Ministry of Health, Labor, and Welfare (Japan). 2019: http://www.mhlw.go.j p/toukei/list/114-1.html.
people per year (Ministry of Internal Affairs and Communications (Japan) 2019). In 2015, the median resident of Japan was 46.3 years old, which made Japan the oldest country in the world, followed by Italy (45.9), Germany (45.9), and Portugal (43.9) (United Nations Population Division 2017). Japan’s ageing and declining population has made labour shortages even harder to solve, and the Trainee and Technical Internship Program – which was an expansion of the trainee visa category that was created in 1989 – was not nearly sufficient to address this problem, nor was the Long-Term Residency visa or the student visa, which are the other main sources of low-skilled foreign labour that will be discussed below. Indeed, as Figure 12.1 demonstrates, in 2017 the ratio of job openings to new job seekers reached 2.24, the highest it had ever been since 1963, the first year for which data is available. In 2018, this ratio climbed to 2.39. Thus, in December, 2018, the Diet again revised the ICRRA in order to establish several different low-skilled labourer visa categories.3 While the debate leading up to the 1989 revision was about whether Japan should admit foreign ‘labourers’ or foreign ‘trainees’, many critics of the 2018 revision focused on the fact that, according to Prime Minister Shinzō Abe and
‘This is not an immigration policy’ 259 other advocates of this new law, it was ‘not an immigration policy’ but instead a policy to admit foreign labour. The implications of this difference were twofold: according to the advocates of this law, unlike ‘immigrants’, foreign labour is temporary (the labourers would have to leave Japan at the end of their terms), and foreign labourers come to Japan alone (i.e. not with spouses, children, and other relatives). In other words, advocates of this law prefer the language of ‘foreign labourers’ rather than the language of ‘immigrants’ because they see immigrants as potential citizens, while foreign workers are much more like Swiss guestworkers that leave after fixed periods of labouring in Switzerland. Why has the Abe administration remained so reluctant to admit people as potential citizens, despite Japan’s rapidly declining population and intense labour shortages? In this chapter, I argue that Abe and many of his allies see immigration as a threat to social stability at least partially because it challenges the widespread belief that Japan is a ‘one-ethnicity country’. Although Abe and many others in the LDP recognize that those without Japanese ethnicity can, under certain circumstances, ‘become Japanese’, Abe and his allies also believe that social stability in Japan is best served by minimizing visible challenges to the idea that Japan is a ‘one-ethnicity country’. And large numbers of immigrants that plan to stay for an indefinite duration and to bring their families would be a clear, visible challenge to that idea. Thus, Abe and his administration have attempted to construct a policy where foreign labourers will come to Japan, help the Japanese economy, and then leave without the idea that they will (or should) become incorporated into Japanese communities in a long-term way. I also argue that, to the extent to which mainstream organized labour in Japan incorporates these new foreign labourers as union members (which is a definite possibility, as I show below), the nature of debates about immigration and citizenship in Japan may change. Right now, Japan has two major parties that are conflicted about citizenship because their main groups of organized constituents are conflicted. However, if mainstream Japanese labour unions become advocates for foreign labourers, then the major party of the left in Japan – the Constitutional Democratic Party (CDP) – could arguably become a party that is unambiguously in favour of immigration as well as of expanded access to Japanese citizenship. In short, this policy could change the nature of party politics in Japan to create a new cleavage around issues of immigration and citizenship. I begin with an overview of the strategies that the Japanese state developed after the 1989 revision of the ICRRA to import foreign labourers (particularly low-skilled labourers). Second, I outline the debate and political process that led up to the passage of the 2018 revision to the ICRRA. And finally, I consider what this 2018 law change, which permitted the admission of temporary low-skilled labourers, means for the future of citizenship in Japan.
Migration of low-skilled labourers after 1989 As I noted above, those advocating a relatively modest trainee policy over a more expansive foreign labour visa won the 1989 debate about what to do about Japan’s
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labour shortages. However, the employment needs of Japanese firms did not disappear. After the 1989 revision of the ICRRA the trainee programme was gradually expanded. It was initially a one-year training programme, but after 1993 trainees could remain for an additional year or two as technical interns, and the length of stay has also been gradually expanded. In April 2014 the government announced that it would lengthen the technical internship programme from a total of three years to a total of six years, and it would permit those who had already participated once to apply to participate again (the length was eventually expanded to five years instead of six). These changes were linked to the 2020 Tokyo Olympics and to the need for labourers to clean up the nuclear meltdown site at Fukushima (Yomiuri Shimbun 4/4/2014; Yomiuri Shimbun 2/21/2017). Trainees and technical interns have increasingly been treated legally as employees, rather than students. In 2007, the Technical Internship Training Program (TITP) was criticized in the US State Department’s Trafficking in Persons report (Milly 2014: 77). As a result, in 2009, ‘trainees were formally given the status of workers eligible for the full range of worker protections’ (Milly 2014: 69). Despite this change and Japan’s continued formal attention to the issue of migrants’ rights,4 problems about abuse of trainees persist. Ippei Torii, head of the group Solidarity with Migrants Japan, called the programme a kind of human trafficking in a 2013 talk because: The interns do not have the freedom to change employers if they meet with an exploitative situation. They must … either endure and finish their contract, or risk losing the deposits they had made in order to come on the program. They will be deported before meeting their earnings goals or even paying back loans incurred by the migration trip. It is in this sense that TITP migrants are the least mobile of migrant workers in Japan. (Talk paraphrased in Roberts 2018: 95) The Ministry of Justice has convened a number of Immigration Policy Discussion Panels, composed of experts outside of government. In 2014, one of these panels produced a report about how to repair the foreign trainee program (Kamibayashi 2015: 5). Waseda anthropologist Glenda Roberts, who served on the 6th such panel, noted that ‘Although a sub-committee to look into allegations of misconduct in the TITP system was formed in the MOJ 6th Immigration Policy Discussion Panel, Prime Minister Abe announced that the system would be expanded before the sub-committee had even finished its deliberations’ (Roberts 2018: 96). In November 2016, the Diet amended two laws with a view towards permitting caregivers to be admitted to Japan as technical interns while at the same time expanding the protection of labour rights available to technical interns. These new protections included setting up a new agency to support technical interns and fining companies that take the passports of the technical interns that they employ (Yomiuri Shimbun 11/19/2016). This marked the first time that technical interns would be admitted in service industry roles (Yomiuri Shimbun 11/18/2016). While media reports did not mention a specific figure goal or quota for caregiver
‘This is not an immigration policy’ 261 admission, the conservative Yomiuri Shimbun, a widely read newspaper that often sympathizes with the LDP, reported that the programme was unlikely to put a dent in the nurse and caregiver shortage, which the Ministry of Health, Labor, and Welfare estimates will reach 380,000 by 2025 (Yomiuri Shimbun 11/19/2916). Shortly after these reforms, in February 2017, the government introduced a variety of additional protections meant to safeguard the interests of technical interns including a ‘point system’ to rank firms according to how well they treated foreign trainees and technical interns. Firms would be rewarded if a large percentage of interns passed their National Trade Skills tests and if they paid their interns relatively well (a firm would earn 5 points for paying its trainees an average of 15% above Japan’s minimum wage). Firms would be penalized if they were found to mistreat their trainees or if their trainees went missing (Yomiuri Shimbun 2/21/2017). While the 1989 revision to the Immigration Control and Refugee Recognition Act was being debated, many of those discussing the law saw the trainee programme as a source for low-skilled labour. The ICRRA revision formalized another visa category, however, that surprised both the ICRRA’s supporters and opponents by becoming a major source for foreign low-skilled labourers (Milly 2014: 65; Tanaka 1995: 20; Akashi 2010:113-14). The ‘Teijūsha’, or ‘LongTerm Resident’ visa was (and remains) open to the relatives and descendants of Japanese citizens, and it had no work restrictions. The fact that the Long-Term Resident visa was not widely seen as a large source of foreign low-skilled labourers was underscored by a statement by Katsunori Toda, a planning officer from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, just after the law went into effect. Toda predicted that those most likely to make use of the new visa category would be ‘the descendants of those who have succeeded in the country in which they settled’, and because of their success in the country where they settled Toda asserted that ‘there is little likelihood of their settling in Japan – that is the difference between them and other Asians’ (cited in Seigo 1997: 11–12). Interestingly, Toda went on to note that, ‘as far as the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, which allows emigration, is concerned, it would in fact be a problem if they were to return and settle’ (cited in Seigo 1997: 11-12). However, since its creation in 1989, the Long-Term Resident visa has indeed become a major source of foreign labour in Japan. In 2017, there were 173,317 long-term residents in Japan, which made it the sixth-most common visa status in Japan (Strausz 2019: Chapter 4).5 Of those long-term residents, 30.3% came from Brazil, followed by 27.9% from the Philippines, 15.9% from China, 6% from Peru, 4.2% from South Korea, and 15.7% from elsewhere (Ministry of Justice (Japan) 2018). In addition to long-term residents, many firms seeking low-skilled labour have come to increasingly rely on foreign students. Foreign students in Japan are permitted to work for up to 28 hours per week when school is in session, and up to 8 hours per day during extended holidays (Ministry of Justice (Japan), No Date). The plurality of foreign students in Japan comes from China (39.5% in 2017; Ministry of Justice (Japan) 2018). Liu-Farrer suggests that, while there is a long
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history of Chinese coming to Japan both for economic opportunity and to study, ‘the magnitude of the contemporary trend of student migration between these two countries is unprecedented. What is new is the merging of these two types of migration [student migration and labour migration] and the blurred boundary between students and laborers’ (Liu-Farrer 2011: 141). Together, trainees and technical interns, foreign students, and long-term residents are the three main sources of low-skilled foreign labour for Japanese firms. In 2017, of the 2,471,458 foreign residents in Japan, 28.98% had one of these three visa categories (7.01% were Teijūsha, 10.19% were Trainees and Technical Interns, and 11.78% were foreign students; Ministry of Justice (Japan) 2017). Figure 12.2 demonstrates the changing sizes of the populations in Japan bearing these three visa categories from 1996 until 2017. The population of foreign students has steadily increased since 1996. The population of trainees and technical interns mostly increased, but it dipped in 2009, which likely reflects the impact of the global financial crisis on hiring. The population of long-term residents peaked in 2006 at 268,836 and remained over 265,000 until 2009. The 2009 dip can likely be explained by the global financial crisis, and the failure for a
Figure 12.2 Changing populations of long-term residents, foreign students, and trainees and technical interns in Japan. Source: Generated by author with data from Ministry of Justice, 2006-2019: http://www.moj.go.jp/housei/toukei/touke i_ichiran_touroku.html; http://www.moj.go.jp/nyuukokukanri/kouhou/nyu ukokukanri01_00013.html.
‘This is not an immigration policy’ 263 subsequent rebound may be explained by the policy that Japan adopted between April 2009 and March 2010 to provide fixed payments to ethnic Japanese who would agree to leave Japan and stay away for at least three years (although Japan reserved the right to shorten that period if economic conditions improved) (Milly 2014: 173). The Trainee and Technical Internship Program is widely recognized as a de facto low-skilled labour migration policy. Of the 19 politicians and bureaucrats that I have interviewed about Japanese immigration policy since 2009, only one has taken seriously the official idea of the Trainee and Technical Internship Program as a development programme.6 While there are of course many foreign students that are in Japan primarily to study, foreign students are an important source of low-skilled labour for Japanese businesses too, particularly for izakaya (Japanese pubs) and convenience stores, and long-term residents are, among other things, an important source of factory labour in Japan. As Figure 12.3 suggests, in 2017 there was a very strong and statistically significant positive correlation between the job seeker’s ratio (the ratio of job seekers to available jobs, a common measure of firms’ demand for labour) of a prefecture and the number of trainees and technical interns per thousand residents in that prefecture. Figure 12.3 also demonstrates a strong and statistically significant relationship between a prefecture’s job seeker’s ratio and the number of long-term residents per thousand, and a moderately strong relationship between a prefecture’s job seeker’s ratio and the number of foreign students per thousand residents. This last relationship, however, is the least robust; when Tokyo (an outlier for foreign students per thousand residents) is excluded from the analysis, the relationship loses statistical significance and the direction of the relationship flips from positive to negative.7 This could be because the local labour market is not the only important driver of both universities appeals to foreign students and of foreign students’ decisions to study in Japan. In sum, Figure 12.3 paints a picture of three visa categories that, whatever their origins, have become important sources of low-skilled labour in Japan. The Long-Term Residency visa has been declining in use, and the Foreign Student visa has other important implications for Japan (including being a source of funding for students of Japanese universities in an age of shōshikōreikai). However, the Trainee and Technical Internship Program was widely viewed as a failure by almost all politicians on the right or the left that I interviewed. In a sense, this is not surprising, because that programme has failed at the two things that could plausibly be called its goals. First, it has not succeeded as a development aid program. It is difficult to imagine that the dollars spent bringing people to Japan to learn skills, mostly in sectors such as construction, food manufacturing, textiles, metals, and agriculture (not Japan’s most internationally competitive sectors), would not be better spent with programmes that train people from the developing world in skills that are crucial to their own economies’ economic development, rather than attracting them to make up for labour shortages in Japan. One conservative politician pointed out that it is difficult to justify the expansion of caregiving as a development aid programme because, unlike manufacturing internships, where
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(a)
(b)
Figure 12.3 Job seeker’s ratio and various visa statuses by prefecture, 2017. Source: Generated by author with data from JASSO 2017: https://www.jasso.go.jp /en/about/statistics/intl_student_e/index.html, Ministry of Justice (Japan) 2018: http://www.moj.go.jp/housei/toukei/toukei_ichiran_touroku.html, and Ministry of Health, Labor, and Welfare (Japan) 2019: http://www.mhlw.go.j p/toukei/list/114-1.html.
trainees can imagine that they might use their skills upon their return, caregiving ‘trainees’ that have gained experience in caring for the elderly will be returning to developing countries without the ageing population that Japan has, and thus will be unlikely to find a way to use the skills they gained in Japan (Interview 1174).
‘This is not an immigration policy’ 265
(c)
Figure 12.3 Continued.
Moreover, the Trainee and Technical Internship Program has been ineffective as a solution to Japan’s labour shortages. As noted above, Japan continues to have the most severe labour shortages in the world, even despite these programmes. According to a 2018 survey of 39,195 firms in 43 countries, 89% of Japanese firms are having trouble in filling jobs; this is the largest percentage in the world, followed by Romania (81%), Taiwan (78%), Hong Kong (76%), and Bulgaria (68%). In the country with the median score, 43% of firms reported difficulties in finding personnel (less than half of Japan’s percentage; ManPower Group 2018). As Table 12.1 demonstrates, these labour shortages are most severe for jobs that require low-skilled labour. Perhaps most shockingly, Table 12.1 suggests that as of January 2019, there were 11.17 building frame construction jobs for every job seeker!
Ethnic nationalism and the reluctance to admit immigrants in Japan From shortly after the Meiji Restoration (1868) until the end of World War II (1945), there was a serious debate in Japan about the origins of the Japanese. On one side were the ‘homogeneous nation’ theorists who argued that today’s Japanese were the direct descendants of the people who had lived on those islands since the beginning of time. On the other side were ‘mixed nation’ theorists who held that the Japanese people’s ancient ancestors were actually two different groups: ‘conquering people’ and ‘a previous aboriginal people’ (Oguma 2002: 15). As the Japanese empire grew, particularly after the annexation of Korea in 1910, the influence of the mixed nation theory grew (Oguma 2002: 81-92). By the
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Table 12.1 Job seeker’s ratio and new job seeker’s ratio by job type in Japan, January 2019. Job type
Job seeker’s ratio (ratio of job opening to job seekers)
Building frame construction 11.17 Security jobs 8.47 Architecture, civil engineering, 6.82 survey engineering Doctors, dentists, veterinarians, and 5.96 pharmacists Construction 5.44 Construction and mining-related civil 5.33 engineer Bill and data collector 5.28 Mining 4.58 Family life support (housekeepers, 4.56 childcare workers, etc.) 3.96 Machine repair
New job seeker’s ratio (ratio of job opening to new job seekers) 3.59 10.30 1.17 5.00 2.25 2.43 6.16 0.25 7.94 2.87
Source: Generated by author with data from Government of Japan, 2019: https://www.e-stat.go.jp/ stat-search/files?page=1&toukei=00450222&tstat=000001020327.
1930s, even former proponents of the homogeneous-nation theory began to talk about the mixed origins of the Japanese people (Oguma 2002: 110-124); this was a convenient theory for that time because it could justify the Japanese empire. After World War II, however, there were almost no attempts to formulate a vision of a new Japan as a multinational state … . Where the Koreans, Taiwanese, and others left behind in Japan were concerned, there was a tendency to believe that it would be better to help them return to their newly independent countries as quickly as possible, rather than to formulate a new vision of coexistence within Japan (Oguma 2002: 298) For this reason, post-war Japan is often said to be a clear example of what Hans Kohn called a nationalism ‘founded on history, on monuments and graveyards, even harkening back to the mysteries of ancient times and tribal solidarity’, and which Kohn distinguished from a nationalism based on ‘a rational and universal conception of political liberty and the rights of man’ (Kohn 1944: 574).8 Subsequent scholars have named these two forms of nationalism ‘ethnic nationalism’ (the kind based on tribal solidarity) and ‘civil nationalism’ (the kind based on universal values) (Tamir 2019). Given the nature of post-war Japanese nationalism, one might argue that the reason that Japan has been so reluctant to admit immigrants and foreign labourers is because they lack Japanese ethnicity, and thus do not have a role in Japan. However, a careful look at the beliefs of leading conservative figures
‘This is not an immigration policy’ 267 in Japan reveals that Japanese ethnicity is less important to post-war Japanese conservatism than is often thought. In his overview of far-right activists in Japan, Nathaniel Smith notes that the relatively new ‘Action Conservative Movement’ (ACM) which dates back only to the mid-2000s differs from previous far-right movements in Japan in that it is clearly and unambiguously xenophobic; its vision of Japanese nationalism is most clearly an example of ‘ethnic nationalism’. Smith contrasts this new movement with the ‘Old Right’ which formed after World War II and was concerned with fighting communism and has many members with Korean ethnicity and the ‘New Right’ which formed in the 1970s used the ‘Pan Asianist’ rhetoric drawn from Imperial Japan (Smith 2018). All three of these far-right movements – the nativist ACM as well as Old Right and New Right groups – continue to exist in contemporary Japan without any consensus about the importance of Japanese ethnicity to Japanese nationalism. This ambivalence about the importance of Japanese ethnicity is not constrained to far-right activists. Indeed, Kevin Doak has suggested that Prime Minister Shinzō Abe – often said to be an important figure representing the ‘new nationalism’ in Japan – sees Japanese national identity as primarily based around shared national symbols, rather than shared ethnicity. To support this, Doak references Abe’s 2006 book Toward a Beautiful Country: when Japan entered the World Cup qualifying rounds for the first time, the native-born Brazilian [Ruy] Ramos shed tears of disappointment along with the Japanese. Even today, he is greeted with heartfelt applause when he performs in the major Japanese cities. We really have to see that this sense of belonging to the community is found in this consciousness that anyone who fights under the Hi-no-Maru [Rising Sun] flag, regardless of his country of origin, is one of us. (cited in Doak 2007: 271) However, despite his openness to the idea that loyalty to Japan, rather than Japanese heritage, is what truly makes one Japanese, Abe has been consistent, rhetorically, in his opposition to increasing immigration. In 2015, as Germany moved to expand the number of Syrians eligible for asylum in Germany in response to the Syrian civil war (The Telegraph 8/24/2015), Abe was asked about whether Japan would join other countries in admitting Syrian and Iraqi refugees, and he responded, It is an issue of demography. I would say that before accepting immigrants or refugees, we need to have more activities by women, elderly people and we must raise our birth rate. There are many things that we should do before accepting immigrants. (Reuters 5/17/2015)9 This quote is telling for three reasons. First, it suggests that Abe thinks about all possible movements of people into Japan, even by refugees fleeing a desperate
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situation, should be evaluated based on the extent to which those movements will help Japan address shōshikoreika, rather than on the extent to which those movements will help the refugees escape persecution. This view was echoed in a statement two years later by Minister of Foreign Affairs Nobuo Kishi at the 2017 Uganda Solidarity Summit on Refugees, a summit in advance of the 2018 UN Global Compact on Refugees. Kishi argued that Japan’s response to refugees is governed by principles including ‘self-reliance of refugees’ in order to ensure ‘the swift return and repatriation of refugees’ as well as to reduce ‘the mid- and long-term costs of humanitarian assistance’. Notably absent from Kishi’s statement was a commitment to permit the long-term resettlement of refugees in Japan (Kishi 2017). Second, it is clear that Abe views immigration and refugee admission as a last resort policy to address shōshikoreika; from Abe’s perspective, Japan still had many other policies that it could try. But third, in that quote Abe did suggest that, one day, some kind of immigration policy may be necessary for Japan to address shōshikoreika, if all other solutions had failed. If Abe and other conservatives are willing to see soccer players like Ramos as Japanese if they ‘fight under the Hi-no-Maru’, why are they so reluctant to admit immigrants and foreign labourers? I argue that this reluctance to admit large numbers of foreign residents has less to do with their ethnicity than with their belief that large-scale immigrant policy would mean rapid and unpredictable social change that would have the potential to radically change social order in Japan and weaken the widespread perception of Japan as a ‘one-ethnicity country’. Of course, conservatives like Abe recognize that Japan is not truly a ‘one-ethnicity country’, but they also see value in minimizing visible challenges to the idea of Japan as primarily a country for the Japanese. This way of thinking is consistent with the way that Japan approached the 1989 revision to the ICRRA, when concern about the social changes that Japanese elites observed in Europe after European states began to admit foreign labourers (Strausz 2019: chapter 4), and it is also consistent with the ideology that governed Japan’s decision to extend a variety of economic and cultural rights to Koreans in the 1970s and 1980s. The Ministry of Justice came to advocate these changes because they believed that ‘focusing on reducing discrimination against Koreans in Japan’ would ‘avoid creating a visible ethnic minority – vocal and unhappy – a minority whose very existence challenged the notion of Japan’s ethnic homogeneity’ (Strausz 2019: 46).
The 2018 revision to the ICRRA In February 2018, Abe announced that the Japanese government would produce a plan by the summer to admit ‘professional, technical foreign workers’ (senmonteki, gijutsuteki na gaikokujin) (Asahi Shimbun 2/21/2018). The English language press translated this as ‘skilled workers’ (Japan Times 2/21/2018), but this interpretation is based on an expansion of what the Japanese government counted as ‘skill’, as the proposal being discussed would establish ‘skilled’ visa
‘This is not an immigration policy’ 269 categories for areas which had not previously been treated as ‘skilled’; the Asahi Shimbun article mentioned the possibility of new visa categories for construction workers, caregivers, and agricultural workers.10 Abe clearly noted that ‘he is not considering adopting an immigration policy’; this policy would be distinct from an immigration policy because ‘it would establish strict residency limits and family members would not be permitted to accompany laborers to Japan’ (Asahi Shimbun 2/21/2018). Throughout 2018 the numbers of occupations in which the Abe administration was proposing to admit foreign labourers continued to expand. By July 2018, the Abe administration had arrived at five employment areas to propose as subjects for new visa categories – agriculture, caregiving, construction, shipbuilding, and hospitality – and they announced that they were considering expanding into employment areas including manufacturing, the food service industry, fisheries, and logistics, as these were areas with particularly severe labour shortages (Yomiuri Shimbun 7/25/2018). By October 2018, the government was proposing 14 new visa categories which Chief Cabinet Secretary Yoshihide Suga justified with reference to the needs of small businesses in Japan: ‘the labour shortages of small- and medium-sized businesses all over the country have become intensified, and we have a pressing need for foreign laborers who can become immediate assets’ (Yomiuri Shimbun 10/11/2019). The right-leaning, widely read newspaper Yomiuri Shimbun noted that these new visa categories include visas for ‘tanjunrōdō’, literally ‘simple labour’ but often translated as ‘unskilled labour’. Throughout this process, the Abe administration continued to insist that this reform would not be an ‘immigration policy’, but rather a policy to admit foreign labour. Abe used the phrase ‘It is not an immigration policy’ (Imin seisaku de ha nai) on June 27 (Yomiuri Shimbun 6/28/2018), November 5 (Yomiuri Shimbun 11/6/2018), and December 10 (Yomiuri Shimbun 12/11/2018), and when asked about what distinguishes the policy from an immigration policy, Abe continued to point to both the limited duration of the time that the foreign labourers would reside in Japan and the fact that the foreign labourers would not be permitted to bring their families as the key differences between his foreign labour policy and an immigration policy. On December 8, 2018, less than 11 months after Abe first announced that Japan would be putting together a proposal for bringing new categories of foreign labourers into Japan, the Japanese Diet passed a revision to the ICRRA which, among other things, called to expand the number of foreign labourers in Japan through a variety of new visa categories in 14 industries including agriculture, construction, and caregiving (Tokyo Shimbun 12/9/2018; New York Times 12/7/2018). Just over two weeks later, the Abe administration announced in a Cabinet Understanding that Japan would aim to increase the admission of foreign labourers by 345,150 in the next five years. The Cabinet Understanding also established policies to promote coexistence between Japanese and foreigners, including an office with 100 locations all around Japan that would help foreigners with issues relating to daily life (Yomiuri Shimbun 12/25/2018). Throughout this process, Abe made it clear that he had not changed his position
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that foreign labour should be viewed as a last resort. On June 26, 2018, Abe said, Because the LDP is a conservative party, we have had an extremely careful deliberate dialogue (relating to foreign labor). However, because of labor shortages (some kind of policy is necessary). The policy must be implemented in a way that the jobs and wages of Japanese working there are protected. We cannot allow the average wages to drop. (Abe 6/27/2018) As the December ICRRA revision was being debated, the Ministry of Justice admitted that it had released some incorrect data in 2017 regarding trainees and technical interns who abandoned their internships. The 2017 report stated that 87% left after unsuccessfully requesting higher wages, but the Ministry of Justice admitted in November 2018 that actually only 67% left for reasons of low wages (Asahi Shimbum 11/16/2018). Because around 50% of those with the proposed new visa statuses were anticipated to be made up of people transitioning from technical internships, the opposition argued that they did not have enough information to properly evaluate the law; if not just an issue of wages, what were other problems with their treatment that were causing technical interns to leave their positions (Asahi Shimbum 11/16/2018)? Yukio Edano, the head of the Constitutional Democratic Party (CDP), the largest opposition party, made it clear that he viewed the Ministry of Justice data issue as an issue of fraud, rather than an honest mistake (Yomiuri Shimbun 11/19/2018). Aside from concerns about misreported statistics, members of minority parties also expressed concerns about continued mistreatment of technical interns. In a House of Councillors Justice Committee meeting, the CDP’s Yoshifu Arita asked Minister of Justice Takashi Yamashita, ‘Why won’t the Ministry of Justice investigate reports of technical interns who have died from drowning or freezing?’ (Asahi Shimbun 12/6/2018). Arita was referring to a report by the Ministry of Justice that 68 technical interns died between 2015 and 2017, by causes including on-the-job accidents, disease, drowning, freezing, as well as six suicides (Yomiuri Shimbum 12/7/2018). This concern was shared by activists from the left, who demonstrated outside the Diet on the evening before the law was passed. Takeshi Suwahara, former activist with SEALDS (Students Emergency Action for Liberal Democracy), told Asahi Shimbun, ‘in the midst of a bad situation for trainees and technical interns, why would you force through this kind of law?’ (Asahi Shimbun 12/7/2018). In other words, Suwahara suggests that Japan needs to seriously and carefully address the labour rights concerns about the existing policy before creating a new system for foreign labour.
Conclusion: Will the 2018 revision of the ICRRA create a new conception of citizenship in Japan? It is too early to say whether and how this revision might change the nature of Japanese citizenship. However, this law does have the potential to alter the politics
‘This is not an immigration policy’ 271 and practice of citizenship in Japan. Up until now, there has not been a political party in Japan that has been unambiguously supportive of immigration to Japan. On the right, the LDP has been divided between the pro-business wing – some of whom support labour migration – and the social conservatives, who tend to oppose migration. This dispute is nicely illustrated by the controversy surrounding the 2009 proposal by a group of 80 LDP Diet members to admit 10 million immigrants by 2050.11 Parties of the mainstream left, however, have also been divided by issues of immigration. While a group of Diet members from the Democratic Party of Japan wrote an article in 2003 which advocated, among other things, that Japan should admit 10 million immigrations (the DPJ group’s proposal predated the LDP’s group’s proposal by several years; Asao et al. 2003), that proposal was never incorporated into any of the DPJ’s manifestos. One DP candidate (in 2016 the DPJ changed its name to the Democratic Party) for the House of Representatives told me that, although he personally supports expanding foreign labour in Japan, he feels that he cannot express that opinion in public because he fears ‘strong opposition from the right wing’ (Interview 1122). When the DPJ was in power (between 2009 and 2012), Masaharu Nakagawa, a high-ranking DPJ politician, suggested at a news conference that Japan should promote immigration and he reported that ‘my office was met with a deluge of angry calls and a pile of faxes protesting the move, with my ministry similarly swamped with calls to such an extent that our job was temporarily paralyzed’ (The Japan Times, 3/3/2017). From the perspective of a party of the left, one of the most important factors limiting its ability to become a party of immigration are the views of labour unions. Although labour unions that represent foreign workers in Japan (including the Zentōitsu [Total Unity] Workers Union) have been influential in advocating for the reform of the Trainee and Technical Internship Program in 2009 (Kremers 2014) and for the interests of foreign workers at the local level (Shipper 2008), mainstream labour unions – one of the most important organized constituencies of Japanese left-wing parties – have traditionally not supported foreign labour. When I spoke to a researcher with a large federation of labour unions in Japan in 2016, he suggested that Japanese firms should address labour shortages in areas such as construction and caregiving by raising wages and improving working conditions before requesting foreign labour (Interview 1199). The DPJ/DP definitely noticed this stance by mainstream labour in Japan. A DP Diet member who supported immigration suggested that, before the DP would be able to become a party of immigration it would have to convince Japanese labour unions that immigration is in their economic interest (Interview 1190). This Diet member went on to cite South Korea as an example for Japan to emulate; he argued that South Korea ended the ‘trainee’ programme that they had modelled on Japan and introduced an unskilled labour visa category partially because South Korean labour unions were concerned with how the ‘trainee’ category allowed employers to take advantage of workers. Interestingly, on the day the 2018 revision of the ICRRA was passed, Yasunobu Aihara, the head of the secretariat of Rengō, the Japan Trade Union Confederation
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(a federation of mainstream Japanese labour unions), posted an article on Rengō’s website that expressed regret about the passage of the law. The rest of the article, however, is filled with concern not for the law’s impact on Japanese workers but rather that the law will be implemented in a manner that will be fair to the foreign labourers coming to Japan. Aihara’s concerns about fairness include issues of workplace treatment, wages, insurance provisions, etc. The article concludes in the following way: ‘Rengō, along with providing consulting support and organizing with the foreign laborers, will work hard to create a reality where all laborers in Japan can work and live safely, and can organize into regional Rengō-affiliated unions’ (Aihara 2018). While in the past Rengō had treated foreign labourers as competitors to their members, in this essay Aihara is suggesting that the new foreign labourers that will be admitted under the 2018 law are potential Rengō members. In short, Aihara is suggesting a potential change in how Rengō views its membership and, perhaps, a more different vision of Japanese citizenship as well. If major mainstream unions such as Rengō are able to change their understanding of membership in the way that Aihara suggests in this piece and incorporate large numbers of foreign labourers, then left-leaning parties in Japan will likely be much less conflicted on issues of immigration and citizenship going forward, since unions had been their most important anti-immigrant constituency. In the short term, the limitations on the terms that these new foreign labourers will be able to remain in Japan, as well as many of their inabilities to bring family members with them, will limit the social impact of these new foreign workers. However, in the longer term, this policy has the potential to significantly alter the politics of immigration and citizenship in Japan by creating a major party of immigration in Japanese politics on the left. Conservatives in Japan remain divided on the issue of what it means – normatively, not legally – to be a Japanese citizen, or a member of the Japanese polity; elsewhere I have called these two groups assimilation pessimists and assimilation optimists for their ideas about the potential for those without Japanese ethnicity to join Japanese society. One side is the xenophobic right, exemplified by the Action Conservative Movement that I reference above, that sees Japanese citizenship as fundamentally defined by Japanese ethnicity. For these people, those without Japanese blood never have a role in Japan. However, others, like Abe, believe that Japanese citizenship is not just an issue of ethnicity but also an issue of shared values, and that, relatively rarely, those with shared values but without Japanese ethnicity can become Japanese. Historically, the left in Japan has also been divided, between cosmopolitans who believe residents of Japan should be granted a variety of rights regardless of their ethnicity and mainstream labour unions who believe that established workers in Japan – almost all of whom have Japanese ethnicity – need to be protected by restrictive immigration control policy against foreign workers. If mainstream labour unions come to see foreign labourers as potential members rather than competitors, then these unions might adopt a view of normative Japanese citizenship that is similar to the view of the cosmopolitans. If that happens, then in future election voters might be asked to choose between two fundamentally different
‘This is not an immigration policy’ 273 notions of Japanese citizenship – a conservative one where ethnicity remains an important, if not essential, aspect of Japanese citizenship, and a liberal one where citizenship is thought of as something that belongs to all labourers or to all residents of Japan, regardless of their ethnicity.
Interviews Interview 1122: Interview with House of Representatives candidate, male, Democratic Party, February 23, 2016, Yokohama, Japan. Interview 1123: Interview with House of Representatives Diet member, male, Kōmeitō, May 23, 2016, Tokyo, Japan. Interview 1174: Interview with House of Representatives Diet member, male, Liberal Democratic Party, November 28, 2016, Tokyo, Japan. Interview 1190: Interview with House of Councillors Diet member, male, Democratic Party, April 26, 2016. Interview 1199: Interview with researcher at major Japanese federation of labour unions, May 26, 2016, Tokyo, Japan.
Notes 1 The interviews referenced in this manuscript were made possible by a Japan Foundation Research Fellowship in 2015 and 2016. I began writing this chapter for a workshop at Waseda University hosted by Gracia Liu-Farrer, and I am grateful to Gracia and all of the participants in that workshop for their thoughtful comments. I am also grateful to Paul Dunscomb, Bill Tsutsui, Sheldon Garon, and Andrew Gordon and the other participants and attendees at our 2019 Association for Asian Studies panel for their productive comments and questions. Finally, I am grateful to the editors of this volume – Anastasiya Bayok, Franziska Plümmer, and Gunter Schubert – for inviting me to participate in this fascinating volume and for their careful reading and thoughtful comments on this chapter. 2 For more discussion of the lead up to the 1989 revision of the ICRRA, see Strausz, 2019, chapter 4. 3 I am using ‘low-skilled’ to refer to labourers in jobs that generally do not require a fouryear college degree. I use this term reluctantly for three reasons. First, the Japanese word that is often used, tanjunrodosha, literally means ‘simple labour’, not ‘lowskilled’, and thus neither ‘unskilled’ nor ‘low-skilled’ is a direct translation from the Japanese. Second, the word ‘low-skilled’ in this context is not accurate. Many, if not most, people with conventionally recognized certifications of skill in their profession – such as political science PhDs – do not possess the skills to do the jobs performed by ‘low-skilled’ labourers in agriculture, construction, and caregiving, for example. Third, the technical definition of ‘unskilled’ often changes as the political context shifts. Nana Oishi shows how the Japanese government has moved to narrow or expand the definition of what counts as ‘skilled labour’ in different political contexts (Oishi 2014; Oishi 2018: 560-61). 4 In its plenary statement at the Intergovernmental Conference on the Global Compact for Migration, which ultimately produced the 2018 United Nations Global Compact for Safe, Orderly, and Regular Migration, the Japanese delegation noted that the international community should work together ‘on issues such as addressing the root cause of forced displacement, saving lives of migrants, and managing our national borders’ (United Nations, no date).
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5 The more common visa statuses included Permanent Resident, with 738,661; Special Permanent Resident (a visa status for those with Korean ethnicity who can trace their or their ancestor’s time in Japan to Japan’s occupation of Korea), with 334,298; Foreign Student, with 291,164; Trainee and Technical Intern, with 251,721; and Engineer/ Humanities/ International Services, with 180,180. 6 This Kōmeitō Diet member was the person that I have interviewed that has been most strongly opposed to immigration (or even foreign labour). Regarding the 2016 policy to admit 150 Syrian refugees as foreign students, he said, ‘The beauty of this program is that they go back after 4 years’ (Interview 1123). This policy was later revised so that the foreign students were not required to leave after four years. For much more discussion of this and the other interviews that I conducted, see Strausz, 2019. 7 Based on my own analysis of the data from JASSO 2017: https://www.jasso.go.jp/e n/about/statistics/intl_student_e/index.html; Ministry of Justice (Japan) 2019: http:// www.moj.go.jp/housei/toukei/toukei_ichiran_touroku.html; and Ministry of Health, Labor, and Welfare (Japan) 2018: http://www.mhlw.go.jp/toukei/list/114-1.html. Pearson’s r for the relationship between a prefecture’s job seeker’s ratio and trainees and technical interns per thousand residents is .529, and significant at the 0.000 level. Pearson’s r for the relationship between a prefecture’s job seeker’s ratio and long-term residents per thousand residents is 0.34, with a one-tailed significance of 0.01. Pearson’s r for the relationship between a prefecture’s job seeker’s ratio and foreign students per thousand residents is 0.262 with a one-tailed significance of 0.038. However, when Tokyo is excluded from analysis of this last relationship, the relationship is no longer statistically significant and the relationship becomes negative. 8 Kohn himself does not specifically apply what came to be called ethnic nationalism to Japan. 9 Almost six months later, Japan announced that it would be admitting 150 foreign exchange students as Syrian refugees (Asahi Shimbun 5/19/2016), and that number was later increased to 300 (Asahi Shimbun 2/3/2017). 10 See Oishi 2018 for more discussion of the ways that the Japanese state expanded the definition of ‘skilled labour’. 11 See Strausz, 2019, Chapter 6, for more discussion of immigration reformists and their opponents among both the LDP and the various major left-wing parties in Japan.
References Aihara, Y. (2018) ‘Nyūkan Nanmin Hō Kaisei An no Kaiketsu/Seiritsu ni Taisuru Danwa [A talk about the approval and passage of the proposal to revise the Immigration Control and Refugee Recognition Act]’. https://www.jtuc-rengo.or.jp/news/article_det ail.php?id=1010. Accessed March 16, 2019. Akashi, J. (2010) Nyūkoku Kanri Seisaku: ‘1990 Nen Taisei’ no Seiritsu to Tenkai [Japan’s immigration control policy: foundations and transition]. Tokyo: Nakanishina. Asao, K., Ōtsuka, K., Hosono, K., Furukawa, M., Matsui, K., and Matsumoto, T. (September, 2003) ‘1000 Man Nin Imin Ukeire Kōsō: Nihon wo “Akogare no Kuni” ni Shitai [A plan to admit ten million immigrants: let’s make Japan “a country to long for”]’. Voice 142–49. Doak, K.M. (2007) A History of Nationalism in Modern Japan: Placing the People. Leiden: Brill. Government of Japan (2019) Ippan Shokugyō Shōkai Jōkyō [General Employment Situation]. E-stat. https://www.e-stat.go.jp/stat-search/files?page=1&toukei=00450222 &tstat=000001020327. Accessed March 12, 2019.
‘This is not an immigration policy’ 275 JASSO (Japan Student Services Organization) (2017) ‘Result of an annual survey of international students in Japan 2017’. https://www.jasso.go.jp/en/about/statistics/intl_s tudent_e/index.html. Accessed August 27, 2018. Kamibayashi, C. (2015) Gaikokujin Rōdōsha Ukeire to Nihon Shakai: Ginō Jishūseido no Tenkai to Jirema [Accepting Foreign Workers into Japanese Society: The Dilemmas of a Temporary Immigrants Program]. Tokyo: Tokyo University Press. Kishi, N. (2017) ‘Statement by his excellency Mr. Nobuo Kishi, State Minister for Foreign Affairs of Japan at the Uganda Solidarity Summit on Refugees Commonwealth Resort Munyonyo, Kampala’. Ministry of Foreign Affairs. https://www.mofa.go.jp/files/0 00266669.pdf. Accessed April 3, 2020. Kremers, D. (2014) ‘Transnational migrant advocacy from Japan: tipping the scales in the policy-making process’. Pacific Affairs 87, pp. 715–741. Kohn, H. (1944) The Idea of Nationalism: A Study in Its Origins and Background. New York: Macmillan Company. Liu-Farrer, G. (2011) Labour Migration from China to Japan: International Students, Transnational Migrants. Abingdon, Oxon: Routledge. Manpowergroup. (2018) ‘Solving the Talent Shortage: build, Buy, Borrow and Bridge’. https ://go.manpowergroup.com/talent-shortage-2018#thereport. Accessed September 1, 2018. Milly, D.J. (2014) New Policies for New Residents: Immigrants, Advocacy, and Governance in Japan and Beyond. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press. Ministry of Health, Labor, and Welfare (Japan). (2019) ‘Ippan Shokugyō Shōkai Jōkyō [An introduction to the State of the General Labor Market]. http://www.mhlw.go.jp/tou kei/list/114-1.html. Accessed February 28, 2019. Ministry of Internal Affairs and Communications (Japan). (2019) ‘Japan statistical yearbook’. http://www.stat.go.jp/english/data/nenkan/index.html. Accessed March 5, 2019. Ministry of Justice (Japan). (2006–2018) ‘Zairyū Gaikokujin Tōkei (Kyū Tōroku Gaikokujin Tōkei) Tōkeihyō [Statistical tables of foreign residents of Japan (Formerly registered foreigners in Japan)]’. http://www.moj.go.jp/housei/toukei/toukei_ichiran_ touroku.html. Accessed August 27, 2018. Ministry of Justice (Japan). (2019) ‘Tōkei ni Kansuru Puresu Ririisu [Press releases about statistics]’. http://www.moj.go.jp/nyuukokukanri/kouhou/nyuukokukanri01_00013.h tml. Accessed March 13, 2019. Ministry of Justice (Japan). (n.d.) ‘Zairyū Shikaku “Ryūgaku” ni Kakaru: Shinki Nyūgakusha Sū/Zairyū Gaikokujin Sū Nado [Regarding the visa status “studying abroad”: the numbers of new entrants and residents]’. http://www.moj.go.jp/content/0 01260299.pdf. Accessed July 30, 2018. Oguma, E. (2002) A Genealogy of ‘Japanese’ Self-Images. Melbourne, VIC: Trans Pacific Press. Oishi, N. (2014) ‘Redefining the “highly skilled”: the points-based system for highly skilled foreign professionals in Japan’. Asian and Pacific Migration Journal 23, pp. 421–450. Oishi, N. (2018) ‘Kōdō Jinzai Zenmon Jinzai o Meguru Ukeire Seisaku no Kansei: Seidōteki Dōkeika to Jitsugen [The pitfalls of skilled migration policies in Japan: institutional isomorphism and reality]’. Japanese Sociological Review 68, pp. 549–566. Roberts, G. S. (2018) ‘An Immigration Policy by Any Other Name: Semantics of Immigration to Japan’. Social Science Japan Journal 21, pp. 89–102. Rosenbluth, F.M. (ed.) (2007) The Political Economy of Japan’s Low Fertility. Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press. Schoppa, L.J. (2006) Race for the Exits: The Unraveling of Japan’s System of Social Protection. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press.
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Seigo, H. (1997) ‘Foreign workers and immigration policy’. In Banno, J. (ed.) The Political Economy of Japanese Society. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Shipper, A.W. (2008) Fighting for Foreigners: Immigration and Its Impact on Japanese Democracy. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press. Shirahase, S. (2015) ‘Demography as destiny: falling birthrates and the allure of a blended society’. In Baldwin, F. and Allison, A. (eds.) Japan: The Precarious Future. New York: New York University Press. Smith, N.M. (2018) ‘Fights on the right: social citizenship, ethnicity, and postwar cohorts of the Japanese activist right’. Social Science Japan Journal 21, pp. 235–257. Strausz, M. 2019. Help (Not) Wanted: Immigration Politics in Japan. Albany, NY: SUNY Press. Tamir, Y. (2019) ‘Not so civic: is there a difference between ethnic and civic nationalism?’ Annual Review of Political Science 22, pp. 419–434. Tanaka, H. (1995) Zainichi Gaikokujin – Hō no Kabe, Kokoro no Dobu [Foreigners in Japan – The walls of law, the gutter of the heart]. Tokyo: Iwanami Shinsho. United Nations. (n.d.) ‘Intergovernmental conference on the global compact for migration.’ https://www.un.org/en/conf/migration/statements.shtml (Accessed on April 3, 2020). United Nations Population Division. (2017) ‘World population prospects 2017’. https://esa .un.org/unpd/wpp/Download/Standard/Population/. Accessed March 5, 2019. Vogel, S.K. (2018) ‘Japan’s labor regime in transition: rethinking work for a shrinking nation’. The Journal of Japanese Studies 44, pp. 257–292.
13 Brazilian immigrants and multiculturalism in Japan Local tabunka kyōsei policies and their effect on the Brazilian diaspora in Hamamatsu Chaline Mondwurf Introduction The Japanese society is characterized by demographic change. Since 2011 the population has been decreasing, but it had already begun stagnating in 2005 (MIC [2019a]). This led to an influx of foreigners, especially since the revision of the Japanese Immigration Law in 1990. At the same time, many Japanese people consider Japan as a homogeneous nation.1 Historically, the number of foreigners living in Japan has been low. However, recently it is rising significantly, from 0.8% in 1989 to 2.2% in 2018 (MOJ [2013]: [4]; MIC [2019b]). One of the implications is an emerging discourse about a Japanese notion of multiculturalism (tabunka kyōsei). In this chapter, I examine Japanese multiculturalism policies at the local level as a means of migration management. In order to do so I take the Brazilians living in Hamamatsu City as an example. In the 1980s, the economic downturn and hyperinflation in Brazil motivated many descendants of Japanese immigrants (Nikkeijin) living in Brazil, most of whom have Brazilian nationality, to ‘return’ to Japan, where an ageing population and a booming economy led to labour shortages, especially in the manufacturing industry (cf. Adachi 2004: 65; Roth 2002: 3; Tsuda 2003: 84–85). Another incentive was the revision of the Japanese Immigration Law in 1990 that allows Nikkeijin from up to the third generation to obtain special permanent residency visas2 (cf. de Carvalho 2003: 79; Roth 2002: 3; Sharpe 2010: 359). As many Japanese do not see their country as an immigration country and consider their society to be largely homogeneous, the Japanese government aimed to recruit mainly Nikkeijin because they seemed to be culturally close to the Japanese. Thereupon, approximately 220,000 Latin American returnees arrived in Japan in the 1990s, many of them bringing their (in some cases non-Nikkeijin) spouses. Most of the returnees were Brazilians and soon they constituted the third largest group of foreigners in Japan (after Chinese and Koreans) (cf. de Carvalho 2003: 80). Despite the open Japanese immigration policy towards ethnic Japanese returning from overseas, a short time after their arrival in Japan it became obvious that they were not as similar to the host society as the Japanese government officials had thought, and the return migrants realized that, due to their cultural differences,
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they were regarded not as Japanese but as foreigners. As Goodman et al. (2003: 14) put it, ‘even though they were brought in as descendants under the rhetoric of homogeneity, they are treated as foreigners because of the same rhetoric’. The good reputation they had in Brazil as diligent and honest people turned into ethnic discrimination in Japan. Instead of becoming included in a broadened notion of Japaneseness, they came to represent a new minority group. According to Tsuda (2003), the contrast between their Japanese appearance and their Brazilian mentality led to doubts regarding their ethnic identity. As a consequence, they developed Brazilian counter-identities3 uncharacteristic of their time in Brazil and thus in opposition to the ‘official’ view of the Japanese government, conceiving the Nikkeijin as culturally close to the Japanese (cf. Oda 2010). A common strategy was to clearly act out their Brazilian identity and culture in order to avoid being confused as a Japanese national and thus reducing expectations as well as assimilative pressures from Japanese ethnic hegemony (cf. Tsuda 2010: 130). Due to the global financial crisis in 2008 many Nikkeijin lost their jobs, as most of them were employed as short-term contract labourers, and temporary workers were the first to be fired (cf. Japan Times 2009; Sharpe 2010: 361). In March 2009, the Japanese government initiated a repatriation programme (Kikoku Shien Jigyō) that subsidized flight fares for Nikkeijin to go back to Brazil (e.g. cf. Sharpe 2010: 361–363). Subsequently, the number of Brazilians in Japan dropped from 316,967 in 2007 to 230,552 in 2010 (MOJ [2019]). Meanwhile, their number was outstripped by the recently rising numbers of immigrants from the Philippines and Vietnam. Although in the following years the number of Brazilians in Japan kept falling to 173,437 people in 2015, it has risen slightly to 196,781 people in 2018 and seems to be stabilizing (MOJ [2019]). This indicates that most of the Nikkeijin who decided to stay in Japan settled permanently. Earning as much money as possible in a short time is no longer the main goal. Instead, other activities have gained importance, especially those carried out in their free time as well as those which strengthen their relationship with the host society (cf. Roth 2002: 16). In this chapter, I examine multiculturalism policies that have developed at the local level, taking the city of Hamamatsu as an example. In order to analyze what role the development of the policies has played for the Brazilian diaspora, I draw on my fieldwork data gathered in 2018, including a three months’ internship at the Hamamatsu Foundation for Intercultural Communication and Exchange (HICE), participant observation at events organized by HICE, NPOs, or other community actors, and interviews with representatives of various institutions related to the Brazilian community in Hamamatsu. First, I will introduce the Japanese notion of multiculturalism (tabunka kyōsei). Taking Hamamatsu as an example, I will then examine the local-level government multiculturalism policies and, finally, discuss their impact on the Brazilian diaspora.
The Japanese notion of multiculturalism (tabunka kyōsei) The process of integration into a host society is closely related to the international discourse about multiculturalism. All societies are multi-ethnic and becoming
Brazilian immigrants in Japan 279 increasingly diversified by migration. A global norm promoting multiculturalism began to diffuse in the 1960s with the reform of national immigration policies (cf. Flowers 2012: 522). Besides ‘the reform and repeal of exclusionary immigration policies’ (ibid.), another marker of this diffusion process is ‘the promotion of multiethnic power-sharing’ (ibid.). Bradley (2014: 37) states that be it Western multiculturalism or its Japanese adaptation tabunka kyōsei, ‘the point remains that the universality of human rights and the local, regional, and national issues that affect their acceptance and valorization are contentious, no matter the context’. Japan has resisted norms of multiculturalism, but ‘has a long history of using Western norms to deal with difference’ (Flowers 2012: 522). It adopted the 2018 United Nations Global Compact for Safe, Orderly and Regular Migration, which also includes the objective of social integration.4 Furthermore, Japan ratified ‘all major human rights conventions, the so-called “core human rights instruments”, some with reservations but the majority without any’ (Sambuc Bloise 2010: 18). Laws protecting minorities from discrimination, ensuring their economic, social, cultural, and political rights, and promoting multicultural societies that were ratified by Japan include the International Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Racial Discrimination, the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights, and the International Covenant on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights. However, the International Convention on the Protection of the Rights of All Migrant Workers and Members of their Families (1990) is yet to be signed by Japan.5 Although Japan ratified the main international covenants protecting human rights, these imported Western legal models and the already existent Japanese rules mutually adapted to each other (cf. Sambuc Bloise 2010: 26). In this process, state actors prioritized traditional Japanese values, opposing individual human rights (cf. ibid.: 19): ‘In order to avoid subsequent conflicts, the Japanese Government always reviews the existing legal order and endeavors to modify statutes before ratifying a treaty so that domestic norms are in tune with international law’ (ibid.). This adaptation in favour of traditional values can be seen as a sign of ‘how enduring the nihonjinron discourse remains, especially since key agents of change remain the country’s elites as well as the bureaucracy’ (ibid.: 26). Although the concept of multiculturalism and its success is seen critically worldwide, the Japanese government chose it as its model in order to achieve the social integration of foreigners (cf. Vogt 2017: 80). For the first time in March 2006, the term tabunka kyōsei (multicultural coexistence) was officially used when the Ministry of Internal Affairs and Communications (MIC) published its ‘Report of the Working Group on Multicultural Coexistence Promotion’ (Tabunka Kyōsei no Suishin ni kansuru Kenkyūkai Hōkokusho), responding to the increasing needs of the foreign population. Therein, it is defined as the third pillar (after international exchange and international cooperation) that aims at the continuous promotion of internationalization of regional communities (cf. MIC 2006: 2). The report divides the support that could be provided into four areas: (1) communication (language learning support and translation of important information); (2) daily life (housing, education, employment, health, disaster management); (3)
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multicultural coexistence in local communities (awareness in the society, independence, and participation of foreign residents); and (4) a promotion system for multicultural coexistence policies (linkages and roles of local and central governments, business, and other agents) (cf. ibid.: 1). Tabunka kyōsei policies frame ‘local discussions of difference that challenge the national discourses of a homogeneous Japan’ (Flowers 2012: 540). These policies are judged differently by scholars. Asian studies specialist Nakamatsu (2013: 137–138) interprets them as ‘a shift in the management of cultural diversity from assimilation to multiculturalism’ and thus as an inclusive, more open approach. However, most scholars seem to criticize the concept’s ambiguity, as well as the inherent danger of othering due to a further institutionalization of the Japanese–foreigner dichotomy and the limitedness of its effects (cf. Kashiwazaki 2013; Kibe 2014; Oishi 2012; Tsuneyoshi 2011). Roth (2002: 140, 144) states that while ‘Japanese society is becoming increasingly multicultural’ (ibid.: 144), more exclusive criteria for membership have evolved. Also, ‘difference is largely constructed as a threat that comes from the outside’ (Flowers 2012: 523). Indeed, the Japanese notion of homogeneity is not broadening in order to include other factors but, instead, is reasserted through multicultural coexistence policies. In other words, the reinforcement of Japaneseness ‘serves to exclude foreigners and other minorities as (not more than) residents’ (Bradley 2014: 31). Furthermore, although immigrants are regarded as local residents, they are not treated as future national citizens, thus ‘denizenship’ is becoming the norm (Kibe 2014; Komine 2014). Many immigrants do not consider the policies as good or useful for them but feel oppressed by these attempts to structure their lives (cf. Flowers 2012: 540). Some try to oppose the identity that is imposed on them by creating their own identities, as the Nikkeijin do in showing their Brazilian counter-identities. Despite the plan for the promotion of tabunka kyōsei, no national policy has developed out of it, thus complicating its implementation at the local level. In order to manage the remaining challenges regarding the implementation of the tabunka kyōsei policy, Oishi (2012: 176) proposes that the national government establish an independent state agency in charge of immigration and integration, cope with the backlashes against tabunka kyōsei, e.g., growing anti-immigrant sentiments, and legally pursue racial and ethnic discrimination, xenophobia, and hate crimes. This includes acknowledging historical legacies, incorporating the historical background of cultural diversities in school education, committing itself to social integration (e.g. by allocating sufficient resources for multicultural coexistence), and formulating comprehensive policies for social integration at the national level. Furthermore, according to Bradley (2014: 37), ‘[m]ore attention to the dimensions of education, political participation and representation, and antidiscrimination frameworks and laws are necessary to improve the basic conditions of a society for and of tabunka kyōsei’. However, promotion of tabunka kyōsei seems to be used by domestic actors at the national level more as a rhetoric tool than as a driver to develop comprehensive policies, in the same way as ‘human rights law and culture become very pragmatically [sic!] tools and arguments used
Brazilian immigrants in Japan 281 together or against each other in discourses to reach out to the public and promote, or oppose, social change’ (Sambuc Bloise 2010: 40). Due to the absence of a consistent national approach, local governments had already taken the initiative and started to develop plans on their own (cf. Flowers 2012: 523; Tegtmeyer Pak 2000: 244). Their progressive local policymaking efforts in the 1960s and 1970s, decentralization (chihō bunken) since the 1990s, and the fact that the capacities of Japanese ministries are bound with more urgent issues than multiculturalism led to an empowerment of local governments regarding policymaking (cf. Aiden 2011: 217; Tegtmeyer Pak 2000: 244; Vogt 2017: 88). They are seen as legitimate policy innovators not only by the general public but also by scholars and the officials themselves (cf. Tegtmeyer Pak 2000: 245). As early as 2001 and in the absence of a comprehensive policy at the national level that could solve local issues of adaptation and integration of foreigners or enhance mutual understanding, the mayors of 13 municipalities with a high foreign population gathered in Hamamatsu (Gaikokujin Shūjū Toshi Kaigi [Committee for Localities with a Concentrated Foreigner Population, CLCF, or G-13]) to decide on the Hamamatsu Declaration (Hamamatsu sengen), which aimed at mutual appreciation and the acknowledgement of the same rights and duties for all residents (Japanese and foreign).6 The declaration includes measures in the areas of education, social security, as well as foreigner registration and other procedures (cf. G-13: 2001). According to Ishi (2008: 127) their goals were to discuss shared problems and views, to find solutions, and to seek the central government’s (financial) help. Subsequently, in order to deal with issues regarding the integration of foreign residents that were arising at the grassroots level, many local initiatives developed. Due to the lack of a national approach to multiculturalism policies, local governments partly drew upon global norms of multiculturalism to create their own policies (cf. Flowers 2012; Maeda 2012). However, the local governments are not totally on their own in their ambition to implement appropriate policies for coexistence in a multicultural society. They cooperate with other groups (residents, NGOs, NPOs, international exchange associations, [local] businesses, and scholars) as well as with each other: through direct collaboration (e.g. Hamamatsu Declaration), sharing of best practices, or policy dispersion through NGOs (cf. Aiden 2011: 226–227; Kibe 2014: 73; Vogt 2017: 90). Therefore, at the locallevel opportunities of trust-learning across ethnic boundaries, which were lacking at the national level, came into being (cf. Vogt 2017: 95). According to Vogt (ibid.: 81), these are precursors to successful integration and the implementation of multicultural policies. In summary, multiculturalism can be a norm that informs law-making. Although the tabunka kyōsei discourse did not result in comprehensive national policies, some local governments took an increasingly active role in developing strategies to integrate foreign residents into the society. Such strategies were seen as models by other local governments. Ten years after publishing the tabunka kyōsei promotion plan at the national level, the MIC published a collection of best practice examples from throughout Japan (cf. MIC 2017). Thus, multiculturalism
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does not only diffuse from other (Western) countries to Japan; instead, the policies developed in Japan have become diffused within Japan among the local governments. One example of this diffusion is the Hamamatsu Declaration. The tabunka kyōsei discourse and the resulting policies at the local level have shaped the role of institutions, like cultural centres, in helping foreign residents to integrate. These institutions might be used by local governments or civil society actors in order to pursue their objectives of creating policies for the coexistence within a multicultural society or for promoting integration. In order to examine the role of local governments for multiculturalism in Japan, I take the city of Hamamatsu as an example.
Taking Hamamatsu as an example: Local-level government multiculturalism policies Hamamatsu is located in Shizuoka Prefecture, about 260 km southwest of Tōkyō, and has 796,114 habitants, which makes it the prefecture’s largest city (CoE 2017c: 1). 25,162 foreigners reside in the city. Among them, 9,890 are Brazilians (MOJ [2019]; as of 2018). Thus, with 39.3% of the foreign residents and 1.2% of all the habitants of Hamamatsu, they account for the largest group of foreign residents in the city and, at the same time, make Hamamatsu the city with the highest absolute number of Brazilian residents. Hamamatsu is an industrial hub. Corporations like Suzuki and Honda have their factories there. It is also known for the production of musical instruments (e.g. Yamaha, Roland, Kawai, and Tokai). With the revision of the immigration law in 1990, the number of Brazilian residents had begun to rise sharply (see Figure 13.1). Nowadays, it is the Japanese city with the highest absolute number of Brazilian residents. In 2009, a Brazilian Consulate General was inaugurated in Hamamatsu, which beside its consular function designs activities for supporting the Brazilian residents in the fields of education, work, and culture, among others (cf. MRE [2019]). Furthermore, the Consulate offers legal advice, psychological counselling, and support for entrepreneurship (cf. interview Consulate General 25000 20000 15000 10000 5000 0 1990 1992 1994 1996 1998 2000 2002 2004 2006 2008 2010 2012 2014 2016 2018
Figure 13.1 Numbers of Brazilian residents in Hamamatsu. Source: HICE n.d. a.
Brazilian immigrants in Japan 283 Hamamatsu). There are three Brazilian schools in Hamamatsu that are recognized by the Brazilian government: Colégio Mundo de Alegria, Escola Alcance, and Escola Alegria de Saber (cf. MRE [2019]). The Brazilian residents live dispersed throughout the city. There are no ethnically segregated neighbourhoods. However, ‘the city does not take specific actions to mix citizens from different areas’ (CoE 2017a: 13). In terms of intercultural7 efforts, Hamamatsu is very ambitious. In 2001 it formulated the ‘Hamamatsu Global City Vision’ (revised in 2007) which serves as a guide to set up policies for internationalization and to promote coexistence, exchange, and cooperation. This document evolved into the ‘Hamamatsu Intercultural City Vision’ of 2013, a guide for the city’s intercultural policy which was built on the three pillars of Collaboration, Creation, and Comfort (Hamamatsu City [2012]: 1; Hamamatsu City [2017a]: 1). The ‘2nd Hamamatsu Intercultural City Vision’ came into effect during the FY 2018 and continues with the key initiative of ‘City Development Utilizing Diversity’, aiming at creating the ‘Hamamatsu model of an intercultural society’ (Hamamatsu City [2017a]: 1). In October 2017 Hamamatsu was designated as an ‘Intercultural City’ (ICC) by the Council of Europe and therefore is the first and, until now, the only city in Asia that received this title. Thus, it is leading the way among the cities in Japan regarding the integration of foreigners. The definition of ‘Intercultural City’ by the Council of Europe is as follows: The intercultural city has people with different nationality, origin, language and religion/belief. Political leaders and most citizens regard diversity positively, as a resource. The city actively combats discrimination and adapts its governance, institutions and services to the needs of a diverse population. The city has a strategy and tools to deal with diversity and cultural conflict. It encourages greater mixing and interaction between diverse groups in the public spaces. (CoE 2017a: 2) Hamamatsu achieved an intercultural city index of 54 per cent, and thus is positioned 20th among the 88 cities that are designated as intercultural cities (cf. CoE 2017a: 42). Its strongest efforts for intercultural and inclusive integration could be seen in the ‘political commitment of the Mayor and of the City Council, the activities of the Intercultural Centre and of the HICE [Hamamatsu Foundation for Intercultural Communication and Exchange], the city vision, and the informal language courses’ (ibid.). Fields where local policies need to be developed are ‘education, public services, business and labour market, mediation and governance’ (ibid.). That means not that there are no efforts in these areas, but that important measures are missing. For example, in schools teachers’ ethnic background does not match that of the students’,8 the representation of minorities in public service and political positions is low, there is no anti-discrimination legislation,9 no diversity umbrella organization for business exists,10 there is no intercultural mediation11 provided in places like hospitals, police stations, youth
284 Chaline Mondwurf clubs, retirement homes, in neighbourhoods, etc., and there are no voting rights for foreign residents in local elections (cf. CoE 2017a: 43–44; 2017b: 1–3). One institution mentioned in the ICC report is the local library, which ‘is another space that is being used to encourage meaningful intercultural mixing and integration’ (CoE 2017a: 21). Besides lending books and other materials in foreign languages, the library runs a programme called ‘Book Start’ in different languages, which introduces children (ages one and below) to the charm of reading by reading picture books to them, singing together, and giving advice to their parents (cf. ibid.; Chūō Toshokan [2017]). Also, they provide books in different languages via an ebook portal. Hamamatsu also has a Foreign Residents Council, which was established in 2008. Its ten members12 are drawn from all main resident minorities and are elected for a term of two years. During that time, they hold about eight meetings. Although voting rights are granted to Japanese citizens only, the members of the Foreign Residents Council discuss issues related to civic life and submit proposals to the mayor. The main discussion topics are ‘the city’s initiatives regarding foreign residents and […] ways to improve relations between foreign and Japanese residents in the community’ (Hamamatsu City 2017b) as well as the promotion of intercultural integration (cf. CoE 2017c: 10; Hamamatsu City 2017b; Hamamatsu City [2017c]). The most active institution fostering the interaction between foreign and native residents is the Hamamatsu Foundation for Intercultural Communication and Exchange (Hamamatsu kokusai kōryū kyōkai, abbr.: HICE). It operates the Hamamatsu Intercultural Center, which offers consultation and supports intercultural activities and city development, and the Hamamatsu Foreign Resident Study Support Center (U-ToC), which offers free language classes. Its goals are international exchange and multiculturalization of the residents of Hamamatsu (cf. HICE n.d. b). In order to achieve these goals, they offer various training and language courses, opportunities to participate in city events, and consultation services. Some of these events aim at introducing other countries and cultures (e.g. presentations about other countries, foreign food cooking courses, language classes, and a Global Fair). Others especially aim at a certain group of foreign residents.13 For foreign residents, HICE offers, for example, consultation corners (in various languages) for mental health and immigration/residency, free legal counselling, and free consultation by a certified administrative procedures legal specialist. Also, they offer courses in Portuguese on psychological orientation, financial organization, and entrepreneurship. Furthermore, certain events are related to multiculturalism. HICE employees teach classes about multiculturalism in Hamamatsu for prospective midwives and nurses in order to raise awareness about the situation of foreign residents living in the city. They also lead a group of young people (mostly university students), with foreign roots, called COLORS (Communicate with Others to Learn Other Roots and Stories). This group goes to high schools, tells the students about its experiences, and gives tips for planning their future. Also, it organizes job seminars where young people with foreign roots talk about their work experiences. Besides HICE, there are many NPOs and
Brazilian immigrants in Japan 285 other civil society actors working in the fields of education, language, and culture which are organized by Brazilians as well as other foreign minority groups that are present in Hamamatsu. Norms related to interculturalism do not only diffuse between cities and counties at the local government level. Other institutions are also seeking best practices in order to improve the outcome of their own projects. Some institutions in Hamamatsu reference institutions from other cities. For example, employees of the Hamamatsu Central Library told me that many libraries in Japan are eager to provide services for their foreign users but do not know which approach to take. Although the IFLA (International Federation of Library Associations and Institutions) published guidelines for multicultural libraries that were translated into Japanese, a national guideline is missing. Despite that, meetings of libraries within the same prefecture do take place where strategies are discussed. One of the discussion topics at the library meeting of Shizuoka Prefecture in the FY 2018 was multicultural services. The Hamamatsu Central Library also takes other library’s strategies as an example (nationwide). On the other hand, some institutions from other cities take institutions in Hamamatsu as an example. An employee of the Toyota International Association (TIA)14 told me that she participated in a seminar at HICE to learn how they are dealing with certain tasks. She also went to the international association in Kyoto as well as to an NGO meeting in the British industrial town of Coventry, where 70% of the population comprises minorities, to study their intercultural strategies. Even at the national level, diffusion of best practices of interculturalism is fostered. In March 2017, the Ministry of Internal Affairs and Communications (MIC) published a collection of best practices for tabunka kyōsei from throughout Japan (cf. MIC 2017).
The effects of local multiculturalism policies on the Brazilian diaspora Hamamatsu is a very active city in terms of efforts for interculturalism. Based on the Intercultural City Vision, City Hall and the Intercultural Center work hard to implement these policies. The Hamamatsu City Hall makes a great effort to develop frameworks in order to become an intercultural city. One of the reasons for this endeavour is the commitment of the mayor. Suzuki Yasutomo has been mayor of Hamamatsu since 2007 and has strong ambitions to connect Hamamatsu internationally. For example, Hamamatsu joined the UCLG (United Cities and Local Governments) network, and the mayor of Hamamatsu is a member of the executive board as well as of the council of the Asia Pacific Regional Section (cf. Hamamatsu City 2016). Joining the Council of Europe’s Intercultural Cities network was another big step towards interculturalism and opened the doors for an active exchange of ideas, policies, and good practices with European countries regarding the living together of different cultures and ethnicities. While the Division of International Affairs of the Hamamatsu City Hall mainly fosters the relations to other countries, HICE is in charge of supporting the foreign residents living in Hamamatsu. Many foreign residents make use of the
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consultation services offered by HICE (immigration / residency, legal counselling). According to one of the psychologists working at HICE, in the field of mental health between 500 and 700 people attend HICE in Portuguese every year, the majority of which are Brazilians. HICE also regularly dispatches a Brazilian psychologist to interpret at hospitals and mental institutions. HICE offers many events that introduce other countries and their cultures. However, most of the participants are Japanese. One of the reasons might be the language barrier: these events are held either in Japanese or in English. According to one of my Brazilian interviewees, another reason is the low interest of Brazilians living in Japan regarding other cultures. The language courses offered at HICE cover a wide range; however, only beginner-level classes are offered. The Hamamatsu Foreign Resident Study Support Center (U-ToC) offers Portuguese classes for people who want to support foreign residents. Participants are mainly Japanese people who are interested in helping or in communicating with the Brazilian residents. Here as well only a beginner’s class is available. Although the courses only last for a few weeks, they are certainly a good opportunity to obtain basic knowledge about other languages and cultures, and are an incentive to interact more with foreign residents living in Hamamatsu. U-ToC also offers free Japanese courses. Since the classes take place on weekdays during the day, most participants are foreigners who stay for the short term and do not work (e.g. wives of expatriates). The promotion of multiculturalism is another field of activity in which HICE participates. The classes for prospective nurses and midwives aim at raising their awareness and preparing them for situations in their workplace that require intercultural competencies. Although many students have not seemed to be interested in the topic, it can be a good preparation for the job and provide them with important basic knowledge, particularly because many did not know why there are so many Brazilian Nikkeijin (and other foreign residents) in Hamamatsu. The presentations by this group of young people with foreign roots, called COLORS, at Japanese high schools have not met with much interest either. However, some foreign students have participated actively in the group work after the presentation and asked questions. It is very important to explain their future options to them, and it is also important that all students, not only the ones with foreign roots, listen to the presentations, in order to raise awareness about their fellow students’ situations. Once a year, HICE organizes a Global Fair. Using the whole HICE building, lectures, exhibitions, and presentations about other cultures take place; there is even a corner with food from around the world. People from many different cultures come to present, exhibit, or just visit, and everybody shows a high interest in the other cultures. The two main goals of HICE, international exchange and multiculturalization, seem to be achieved only partially. They make a great effort and manage to raise awareness among Japanese residents for tabunka kyōsei as well as for other cultures and customs, not only by offering informative presentations and organizing events but also by actively going out into society and promoting their ideals at various occasions. However, tolerance alone ‘does little to solve the problems
Brazilian immigrants in Japan 287 of mutual understanding and cooperation that are necessary in communities in many places in Japan’ (Bradley 2014: 37). There are not enough activities aiming at cultural exchange. While there are events, courses, and services aiming at Japanese or a particular group of foreign residents, opportunities where the groups can mingle, exchange ideas, get to know each other, and discuss their values are missing. A possible reason is that the actual goals of HICE seem to be supporting foreign residents in everyday life as well as raising awareness among Japanese people for other cultures, rather than creating more opportunities for Japanese and foreign residents to interact. This might be linked to the Japanese understanding of multiculturalism: foreigners are integrated as local residents but not as future national citizens. The Central Library does not follow any certain multicultural guidelines but is mentioned in the 2nd Intercultural City Vision as being in charge of promoting ‘intercultural services that are easy to use for foreign residents, such as having a well-stocked foreign-language section in libraries’ (Hamamatsu City [2017a]: 36). One of the librarians at the Hamamatsu Central Library told me that they pursued this aim actively by buying books in foreign languages, especially when they received a subsidy in 2014. It is important to have many books in stock; however, just having them does not raise the number of users in the long term. One of my interviewees told me that when she takes Brazilian children for an excursion to the library, some of the adolescents who are 15 or 16 are going there for the first time. It is not enough for the library to provide intercultural services. The foreign residents also have to be aware of these services and introduce their children to them. The City Hall’s Foreign Residents Council, for its part, provides a very good forum to discuss problems regarding the foreign population. However, as its role is limited to submitting proposals to the mayor, it has only a minor influence on actual policy decisions. The Intercultural City Vision makes clear not only that the success of its policies depends on local government institutions but that [i]n order to realize an intercultural society, a variety of stakeholders, including government, citizens (the leaders of community development), foreign laborer employment businesses, and citizen groups engaging in intercultural initiatives, must fulfill each of their roles through the advancement of effective initiatives that take advantage of their own unique characteristics. (Hamamatsu City [2017a]: 18) HICE (financially) supports events of civil society actors in their endeavours to support the foreign residents, and many of the organizations of the Brazilian community have strong ties to HICE. Another institution offering support is the Brazilian Consulate General in Hamamatsu. They also have a Residents Council: Community representatives discuss problems with the Consul, try to find ways to cooperate within the Brazilian community, and plan joint activities. The civil society related to the Brazilian community is strongly developed. There are many NPOs teaching Japanese and/or Portuguese. The International
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Institute of Education and Culture and the NPO Arace are civil society organizations led by Brazilian women that offer language classes on Saturdays. They focus mainly on Brazilian (but also on other foreign) children who have difficulties at school and help them gain language proficiency in Portuguese as well as in Japanese. Brazilian dance and sports academies foster interaction between Brazilian and Japanese residents. Exchange organizations like Aliança de Intercâmbio Brasil Japão15 and ABRAH16 organize events in order to foster the exchange between different nationalities and support the Brazilian community in important structural matters. Supporting organizations have not only developed from within the Brazilian community. There are also Japanese people who joined in order to support the foreign residents in their city. Volunteer groups have formed that offer interpretation services. Some institutions adapted to the needs of foreign residents. For example, the Yamaguchi Heart International Clinic offers medical consultation with interpretation in various languages and is also open on weekends. Uninsured foreigners can also receive a screening. The Catholic Church offers services in different languages, including Portuguese, and plays a big role in interaction. While most initiatives focus on foreign residents, the civil society organization Hamamatsu Kokusai Rikai Kyōiku Netto (Hamamatsu network for education of international understanding), aims at raising the awareness of the majority, i.e., Japanese residents, to the situation of foreign residents by organizing workshops and seminars. The NPO FRECTiVE also organizes events for Japanese residents in other languages in order to put them in the position of foreign residents and make them live through situations where they do not understand what is being spoken. In summary, the local government in Hamamatsu plays a very active role in promoting interculturalism and in updating respective guidelines and plans. While being a pioneer city within Japan in terms of its efforts regarding interculturalism, they still have a long way to go in order to achieve the integration of Japanese as well as foreign residents in an intercultural society. However, as the local government is constantly seeking best practices from other cities and countries and as civil society is very active in terms of supporting the integration of foreign residents and raising awareness for their situation among the Japanese residents, it is likely that the city’s efforts will improve and produce even more significant impacts for their residents, both Japanese and foreign.
Conclusion In this chapter I have introduced the Japanese notion of multiculturalism (tabunka kyōsei) and, taking Hamamatsu City and its Brazilian residents as an example, examined Japanese multiculturalism policies at the local level as a means of migration management. The tabunka kyōsei concept developed out of the international discourse on multiculturalism through norm diffusion. However, the Japanese understanding of it aims at the integration of foreigners as such and thus reasserts the homogeneity of Japanese society.
Brazilian immigrants in Japan 289 The high influx of Brazilian return migrants (and other Latin American return migrants) since the 1990s did not lead to a broadening notion of Japaneseness that includes people of Japanese descent. Instead, they are excluded from being Japanese. This provoked the development of a Brazilian counter-identity and the constitution of Brazilian residents as a new minority group among many others. They have no voting rights; however, as local residents in Hamamatsu, they are capable of participating at the local level through the Foreign Residents Council, and the Hamamatsu Declaration defines their specific rights and duties. As there is no comprehensive policy or implementation guideline at the national level. Many initiatives developed at the local level, starting with the Hamamatsu Declaration. They were designed to find local solutions and best practices, which are diffused and adopted by other actors at the local level. This includes not only the local governments themselves but also other institutions like libraries, cultural centres, and civil society actors. Hamamatsu is especially active in this field. It became a member of many international networks aiming at sharing best practices for developing successful intercultural societies. In October 2017 it became an Intercultural City of the Council of Europe. The city’s Intercultural City Vision aims at building an intercultural society. Within the Brazilian community many initiatives developed to support the Brazilian residents. However, a successful intercultural society is characterized by interaction between local and foreign residents. The city’s intercultural policies nourished awareness of interculturalism within the local society. As a result, many initiatives led by Japanese residents developed. Also, the Intercultural City Vision constituted a framework for HICE in organizing events and supporting community initiatives. It is a good first step that Japanese as well as foreign residents have made an effort to support each other. However, not all initiatives stimulate interaction between different groups. Many just aim at helping foreign residents to get along in Japan rather than to foster actual interaction, which, for example, could be promoted by creating events aimed at both Japanese and foreign residents that foster mutual understanding and provide a space for discussion, interaction, and dialogue. Still, Hamamatsu serves as a good example within Japan and its endeavours and initial successes are promising.
Notes 1 After the restoration in 1868 the emerging nationalism ‘idealized cultural and racial homogeneity as the foundation of the nation state’ (Weiner 2009: 1). ‘[C]ultural empathies were mobilized, while regional identities were either suppressed or subjected to a process of cultural redefinition’ (ibid.). ‘Japaneseness’ meant purity and homogeneity of the nation (cf. ibid.: 2). After World War II, a genre of literature, nihonjinron, emerged, treating the uniqueness of the Japanese cultural and national identity. Until today the Japanese notion of homogeneity is rooted in the consciousness of Japanese people and politicians, although many scholars started to criticize homogeneity as an illusion, pointing to ethnic minorities like Ainu, Okinawans, and oldcomer as well as newcomer immigrants (cf. e.g. Weiner 2009). 2 Right now there are discussions about widening this special visa category and including the fourth generation. This type of visa is initially granted for one to three years and
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can be renewed. After living in Japan for ten years it is possible to apply for permanent residency. Tsuda (2000: 60–68) describes examples of these Brazilian counter-identities as resistance to Japanese assimilation pressure, e.g., conspicuously Brazilian behaviour, using Brazilian clothes, a way of speaking (loudly, in Portuguese) and greeting (affectionately, including embracing and kissing in public), using public and personal symbols (writing their names in katakana, the Japanese phonetic alphabet used for foreign names, and wearing a beard), and enacting Brazilian culture (e.g. Samba). Most relevant here is objective number 16: ‘Empower migrants and societies to realize full inclusion and social cohesion’. For a detailed description of the objectives see United Nations (2018): Global Compact for Safe, Orderly and Regular Migration: Intergovernmentally Negotiated and Agreed Outcome. July 13, https://refugeesmigr ants.un.org/sites/default/files/180713_agreed_outcome_global_compact_for_migrati on.pdf (Accessed: April 11, 2020). For an overview of Japan’s ratification status of human right treaties see: United Nations Human Rights Office of the High Commissioner: UN Treaty Body Database. https://tbinternet.ohchr.org/_layouts/15/TreatyBodyExternal/Treaty.aspx?CountryID =87&Lang=EN (Accessed: July 28, 2019). For a list of current member cities see Ueda shiyakusho shimin machizukuri suishinbu, jinken danjo kyōseika (2019): Gaikokujin shūjūtoshi kaigi: Tabunka kyōsei shakai wo mezashite, kaiin toshi [Committee for Localities with a Concentrated Foreigner Population: Seeking a multicultural society, member cities]. April 1. http://www.shuj utoshi.jp/member/index.htm (Accessed: August 18, 2019). Tabunka kyōsei is nowadays translated as ‘interculturalism’ by the Hamamatsu City Hall. According to one of my interviewees, although the Japanese expression stayed the same, the shift in translation from ‘multiculturalism’ to ‘interculturalism’ shows a shift in understanding from separation (different groups not interacting with each other) to integration (different groups interacting with each other and influencing each other for the better). By employing teachers with minority backgrounds and bilingual skills the city would achieve much better results in the intercultural city index (cf. CoE 2017a: 12). Hamamatsu does not have an anti-discrimination legislation for businesses, nor is there ‘a charter or another binding document against discrimination in its own administration and services’ (CoE 2017a: 17). Also, the city ‘does not monitor the extent and character of discrimination in the city’ (CoE 2017a: 40). A business umbrella organization could promote diversity as well as a means for nondiscrimination in the employment (cf. CoE 2017a: 18). The Council of Europe recommends testing mediation services, for example, by training mediation workers from a variety of ethnic and language backgrounds for schools and hospitals, that can intervene whenever a problem arises (cf. CoE 2017a: 24). Eight of these are foreign resident members chosen from public applicants. The other two are one educator and one expert (cf. CoE 2017c: 10). As an Intercultural Center, HICE offers services and events for all residents, foreign and Japanese. However, as the number of Brazilian residents in the city is the highest among the minority groups, many services and events focus on them. TIA was established in 1988 and aims at expanding ‘local cultural exchange activities in order to promote mutual understanding and friendship with foreign countries’ (TIA [2019]). Aliança de Intercâmbio Brasil Japão (Brazilian Japanese Exchange Organization) was founded in 2009 with the goal of supporting the integration of Brazilian and Japanese residents through activities in the areas of culture, education, and sports, and aiming at the improvement of Brazilian children’s education in Japan (cf. Aliança de Intercâmbio Brasil Japão 2019).
Brazilian immigrants in Japan 291 16 ABRAH (Associação Brasileira de Hamamatsu; Eng.: Brazilian Association of Hamamatsu) is an association that supported Brazilian entities in connecting with the Japanese local government. Since the inauguration of the Brazilian consulate general in Hamamatsu in 2009, ABRAH’s objectives shifted towards being an intermediary for legal questions and organizing lectures and other projects in Japan with lawyers from Brazil (cf. interview ABRAH).
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Hamamatsu City (2017a) The 2nd Hamamatsu Intercultural City Vision. (Draft) https:/ /www.city.hamamatsu.shizuoka.jp/hamaeng/topics/pdf/draft-2nd-tabunka-en.pdf. Accessed June 14, 2019. Hamamatsu City (2017b) Hamamatsu-shi gaikokujin shimin kyōsei shingikai: Hamamatsu Foreign Residents Council. https://www.city.hamamatsu.shizuoka.jp/houmu/fuzoku/iti ranlist/fuzoku11.html. Accessed July 15, 2019. Hamamatsu City (2017c) Canal Hamamatsu: 5th Call for Board Members: Hamamatsu Foreign Residents Council. https://www.city.hamamatsu.shizuoka.jp/hamaeng/topics/c ouncil.html. Accessed July 15, 2019. [HICE] Hamamatsu Kokusai Kōryū Kyōkai [Hamamatsu Foundation for International Communication and Exchange] (n.d. a) Hamamatsu-shi ni tsuite no dēta, tōkei [Data and statistics regarding the city of Hamamatsu]. http://www.hi-hice.jp/aboutus/statistic s.html. Accessed June 14, 2019. [HICE] Hamamatsu Kokusai Kōryū Kyōkai [Hamamatsu Foundation for International Communication and Exchange] (n.d. b) About HICE: activities. www.hi-hice.jp/HICEe ng/aboutus/business.html. Accessed June 14, 2019. Ishi, Angelo Akimitsu (2008) ‘Between privilege and prejudice: Japanese-Brazilian migrants in “the land of yen and the ancestors”’. In David Blake Willis and Stephen Murphy-Shigematsu (eds.) Transcultural Japan: At the Borderlands of Race, Gender, and Identity. (Asia’s Transformations; 20). London: Routledge, pp. 113–134. Japan Times (2009) Nonregular Workers Face More Job Losses: Ministry. July 1. https:/ /www.japantimes.co.jp/news/2009/07/01/business/nonregular-workers-face-more-job -losses-ministry/#.XPUy0djgq00. Accessed June 14, 2019. Kashiwazaki, Chikako (2013) ‘Incorporating immigrants as foreigners: multicultural politics in Japan’. Citizenship Studies 17 (1), pp. 31–47. Kibe, Takashi (2014) ‘Can tabunkakyōsei be a public philosophy of integration? Immigration, citizenship and multiculturalism in Japan’. In Wilhelm Vosse, Reinhard Drifte and Verena Blechinger-Talcott (eds.) Governing Insecurity in Japan: The Domestic Discourse and Policy Response. (Sheffield Centre for Japanese Studies/ Routledge Series). Abingdon: Routledge, pp. 71–87. Komine, Ayako (2014) ‘When migrants became denizens: understanding Japan as a reactive immigration country’. Contemporary Japan 26 (2), pp. 197–222. Maeda, Hitomi (2012) Japanese Brazilians in Japan: A Formula of Assessing the Degree of Social Integration. Saarbrücken: AV Akademikerverlag. [MIC] Sōmushō [Ministry of Internal Affairs and Communications] (2006) Tabunka kyōsei no suishin ni kansuru kenkyūkai hōkokusho: chiiki ni okeru tabunka kyōsei no suishin ni mukete [Report of the working group on multicultural coexistence promotion: towards the promotion of multicultural coexistence in regional communities]. http://www.soum u.go.jp/kokusai/pdf/sonota_b5.pdf. Accessed June 14, 2019. [MIC] Sōmushō Tabunka kyōsei jireishū sakusei wākingugurūpu [Ministry of Internal Affairs and Communications, Working Group for Compiling the Collection of Examples for Multicultural Coexistence] (2017) Tabunka kyōsei jireishū: tabunka kyōsei suishin puran kara 10-nen, tomoni hiraku chiiki no mirai [Collection of examples for multicultural coexistence: 10 years since the plan for the promotion of multicultural coexistence, lead to the region’s future together]. http://www.soumu.go.jp/main_co ntent/000476646.pdf. Accessed July 28, 2019. [MIC] Statistics Japan Sōmushō Tōkeikyoku [Ministry of Internal Affairs and Communications, Statistics Bureau] (2019a) Dai 2-shō Jinkō, setai: 2–1 Jinkō no sui’i
Brazilian immigrants in Japan 293 to shōrai jinkō [Chapter 2: Population, households: 2-1 population development and future population]. https://www.stat.go.jp/data/nihon/02.html. Accessed April 11, 2020. [MIC] Statistics Japan Sōmushō Tōkeikyoku [Ministry of Internal Affairs and Communications, Statistics Bureau] (2019b) Dai 2-shō Jinkō, setai: 2–8 Kokuseki-betsu zairyū gaikokujinsū [Chapter 2 Population, households: 2-8 number of foreigners residing in Japan, divided by nationality]. https://www.stat.go.jp/data/nihon/02.html. Accessed April 11, 2020. [MOJ] Hōmushō [Ministry of Justice] (2013) Zairyū gaikokujin tōkei [Statistics on foreigners residing in Japan]. http://www.moj.go.jp/content/000115700.pdf. Accessed April 11, 2020. [MOJ] Hōmushō [Ministry of Justice] (2019) Zairyū gaikokujin tōkei (moto tōroku gaikokujin tōkei) [Statistics on foreigners residing in Japan (former statistics on registered foreigners)]. http://www.moj.go.jp/housei/toukei/toukei_ichiran_touroku.ht ml. Accessed April 11, 2020. [MRE] Ministério das Relações Exteriores (2019) Consulado-Geral do Brasil em Hamamatsu [Consulate General of Brazil in Hamamatsu]. http://hamamatsu.itamaraty .gov.br/pt-br/Main.xml and subordinated pages. Accessed July 17, 2019. Nakamatsu, Tomoko (2013) ‘Under the multicultural flag: Japan’s ambiguous multicultural framework and its local evaluations and practices’. Journal of Ethnic and Migration Studies 40 (1), pp. 137–154. Oda, Ernani (2010) ‘Ethnic migration and memory: disputes over the ethnic origins of Japanese Brazilians in Japan’. Ethnic and Racial Studies 33 (3), pp. 515–532. Oishi, Nana (2012) ‘Immigration and social integration in Japan’. In James Frideres and John Biles (eds.) International Perspectives: Integration and Inclusion (Queen’s Policy Studies Series). Montreal, QC: McGill-Queen’s Press, pp. 165–184. Roth, Joshua Hotaka (2002) Brokered Homeland: Japanese Brazilian Migrants in Japan. (The anthropology of contemporary issues) Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press. Sambuc Bloise, Joëlle (2010) ‘International human rights law in Japan: the cultural factor revisited’. SSRN Electronic Journal (November 26, 2010), pp. 1–40. Available at SSRN: https://ssrn.com/abstract=1715348 or http://dx.doi.org/10.2139/ssrn.1715348. Accessed July 28, 2019. Sharpe, Michael Orlando (2010) ‘When ethnic returnees are de facto guestworkers: what does the introduction of Latin American Japanese Nikkeijin (Japanese descendants) (LAN) suggest for Japan’s definition of nationality, citizenship, and immigration policy?’. Policy and Society 29, pp. 357–369. Tegtmeyer Pak, Katherine (2000) ‘Foreigners are local citizens too: local governments respond to international migration in Japan’. In Mike Douglass and Glenda S. Roberts (eds.) Japan and Global Migration: Foreign Workers and the Advent of a Multicultural Society. London: Routledge, pp. 244–274. [TIA] Toyota International Association (2019) TIA. https://www.tia.toyota.aichi.jp/en/ about/overview/. Accessed July 16, 2019. Tsuda, Takeyuki ‘Gaku’ (2000) ‘Acting Brazilian in Japan: ethnic resistance among return migrants’. Ethnology 39 (1), pp. 55–71. Tsuda, Takeyuki (2003) Strangers in the Ethnic Homeland: Japanese Brazilian Return Migration in Transnational Perspective. New York: Columbia University Press. Tsuda, Takeyuki ‘Gaku’ (2010) ‘Crossing ethnic boundaries: Japanese Brazilian return migrants and the ethnic challenge of Japan’s newest immigrant minority’. In Nelson H.H. Graburn, John Ertl and R. Kenji Tierney (eds.) Multiculturalism in the New Japan:
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Crossing the Boundaries Within. (Asian Anthropologies; 6). New York: Berghahn Books, pp. 117–138. Tsuneyoshi, Ryoko (2011) ‘Three frameworks on multicultural Japan: towards a more inclusive understanding’. Multicultural Education Review 3 (2), pp. 125–156. Vogt, Gabriele (2017) ‘Multiculturalism and trust in Japan: educational policies and schooling practices’. Japan Forum 29 (1), pp. 77–99. Weiner, Michael (2009) ‘“Self” and “other” in imperial Japan’. In Michael Weiner (ed.) Japan’s Minorities: The Illusion of Homogeneity. New York: Taylor & Francis, pp. 1–20.
14 Liberation from blood The inclusion of non-citizens in the South Korean polity So Young Chang and Luicy Pedroza
Introduction In 1948, a mere three years after liberation from imperial Japanese rule and a mere two years prior to a brutal civil war that would divide the Korean peninsula, the first democratically elected National Assembly of the Republic of Korea was discussing the text of the Nationality Act. There was particularly heated contention over Article 10, which would prevent naturalized persons as well as their spouses and children from taking public office. Enthusiastically agreeing with its adoption, one asked, ‘If a naturalized person takes public office, what will that make for our future? Will our 5000-year-lineage as a homogenous ethnic nation disappear?’ (National Assembly Minutes 1948) Seeing the inclusion of the article as unnecessary, another argued, ‘There is no naturalized citizen who is so out of their minds as to stand for election as a president or assembly representative’ (ibid). The fact that this article was eventually included in the first enactment of the Nationality Act is noteworthy. It provided a public rationale for a hierarchy of citizenship among Koreans based on mode of acquisition. Even now, the stratification of citizenship status still remains a key feature of the Korean immigration system, with country of origin as a main distinguishing factor (Seol and Skrentny 2009; Seol 2017). While Article 10 has now been repealed, the hierarchization of citizenship has proven to be resilient. This chapter focuses on the institutional barriers to change in nationality law, showing how the Nationality Act has evolved or failed to evolve within the larger context of political processes in Korea. In the intervening seven decades since enactment, Korean society has undergone developments that include a Philippines-born naturalized citizen serving as a member of the ruling party.1 In 2018, Korea voted to endorse the Global Compact on Refugees and also signed the non-binding Global Compact for Safe, Orderly and Regular Migration, joining other UN member states in affirming the need for international cooperation in managing migration. For how much circumstances have changed both inside and outside Korea, the Nationality Act has only undergone a handful of amendments. Consequently, it is worth questioning both what the substance of the changes made is and whether it is able to correspond to a starkly different political and economic reality. In particular, we interrogate the role of law in normalizing
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a discriminatory treatment of immigrants, considering how the myth of a pure Korean race has endured in contemporary debates.2 As international migration has become part of modern Korean society, how has the government adopted new rules of membership? This chapter begins with a theoretical exploration of the distinction between citizenship and nationality and introduces the historical context of major migration policies in Korea. Then, relying on primary sources from the legislative, judicial, and executive powers as well as relevant media reports, we identify the main fulcrum of change as dual nationality, particularly in terms of resolving the issue of compulsory military service for male dual nationals. The last section makes the assessment that even though institutions in Korea have attempted to abandon exclusively ethnic understandings of citizenship, the existing discussions on nationality and citizenship keep reverting to the pathos of reciprocity, duties, and obligations that tie nationality to lines of blood. For immigrants to become participants of the polity beyond nationality, the terms for a more flexible and porous citizenship are yet to be negotiated.
Citizenship, nationality, and migrant’s rights: Theory and theoretical expectations for the Korean case Citizenship is a polyvalent concept that can be understood in many different ways: as an identity – which can be thin or thick, formal or informal – as a variety of practices connected to civic life in a community, and/or as a status that defines membership in a political community and is the source of rights and obligations between an individual and that polity. Although there is an important overlap between these meanings, they do not coincide perfectly with each other. Scholarship investigating citizenship – especially critical citizenship studies – makes clear that the thin, formal, status-centric understandings of citizenship hardly implicate the socially significant dimension of civic practices, such as collectives claiming their rights and thereby re-creating and re-signifying citizenship (Balibar 2015, 2012; E. F. Isin and Turner 2002; E. Isin and Nielsen 2008; C. Tilly 1999; Castles and Davidson 2000). These many studies make clear time and again that citizenship is a social institution with a trajectory in political thought and collective action that is much bigger and richer than the documents to attest it (passports and IDs). Citizenship provides contemporary political theories and social movements with a repertory of empowering meanings. Let us, however, focus on what citizenship means as status attesting ‘full’ formal membership in a political community and on the challenges that this definition faces today in a world of easier international migration and transnational lives. In its guise as status, citizenship has come to be reduced to nationality as a majority of nation-states in the world consolidated as sovereign entities demanding exclusive loyalty from their members (Pedroza 2019). Hannah Arendt critically called this process the appropriation of citizenship by the nation-state. It is important to highlight that this process was, of course, not homogeneous or equally strong across countries. In fact, across several young nation-states (especially in the
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American continent), neither such appropriation nor the identification between citizenship and nationality was ever ‘complete’ (Pedroza and Palop-García 2017). Yet, even in the many countries where citizenship and nationality became synonymous, the exclusivity of nationality started to break some decades ago, as illustrated by three phenomena, all of which are partly observable in Korea. The first is the U-turn from international conventions on the prevention of dual nationality to the increasing toleration of dual nationality, especially for immigrants and their children. Even Korea, long seen as an ethno-nationalistic polity, began allowing dual nationality – albeit restricted to those over the age of 65 and to male nationals who have completed military service – with a 2010 amendment to the Nationality Act (S. Park 2014). The second phenomenon that is breaking the exclusivity of membership and the rights attached to it is the increase in reforms that have enfranchised resident immigrants – that is, non-naturalized people – in over 35 countries of the world, showing that the quintessential right of citizenship (the formal right to participate in politics, as candidate or as voter) is being redefined as going beyond the boundaries of nationality (Bauböck 2010, 2015, 2005; Pedroza 2014; Earnest 2015; Justwan 2015). Regarding this phenomenon too, Korea is the pioneer case in Asia. The third phenomenon is the mirror expansion of rights to emigrants, which occurs along the lines of membership but beyond the sovereign territory, as voting rights are extended to emigrant citizens – and has occurred throughout the world (Bauböck 2009; Navarro 2007; Collyer 2013).3 These phenomena changing and expanding the confines of formal citizenship are relevant for the Korean context (Brubaker and Kim 2011; Kalicki 2009a; Pedroza and Mosler 2018), just as they are relevant to many other countries that have experienced changes in their migration profiles. However, Korea is singularly taking part in all of them as the only such polity in Asia, while also sharing its current migrant profile with political communities that have started to experience more and more immigration, prompting debates about how to redraw the lines between those who belong and those who do not (see Bosniak 2006). A critical issue in these debates is how nationality laws and migration laws and policies are addressing the demands placed on membership – either by way of rights of citizenship or access to nationality – by different actors who now claim a voice. In particular, there is academic debate on the extent to which Korea’s groundbreaking extension of voting rights to resident immigrants reflects a break with its ‘tradition of citizenship’ (Mosler and Pedroza 2014) or not (Kalicki 2009a, 2009b), but we know less about how other rights that used to be the exclusive privilege of citizens (understood as nationals) have been extended to migrants. For Europe we know that social or economic rights have given rise to tensions (Guiraudon 2007; Blauberger and Schmidt 2014), as other rights keep being restricted along the lines of formal membership (Careja and Emmenegger 2013). However, we know little about how formal political powers in Korea play out and interact in redefining access to and retention of nationality. In this chapter we seek to contribute to that latter aim with an analytical exercise to gauge the openness of the main political powers towards change in citizenship and nationality in South Korea. Drawing on similar studies by Joppke (2008) and Spiro (2008),
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which have contributed much to the discipline of citizenship studies by considering international and supranational influences as much as domestic pressures on citizenship reform and legislative reforms with the same attention as court cases and executive decisions, in this piece we try to understand the direction of recent changes to citizenship law and its practice in Korea by unpacking the reform attempts by key agents of those changes (by no means the only ones but those in the position to make authoritative changes with the responsibility to provide public justifications, i.e., accountability). To take this a step further, ‘Theorists should also abandon their exclusive immigration perspective and learn to understand that every immigrant is also an emigrant and that migration not only involves the crossing of borders between two societies but also connects them to each other’ (Bauböck 2012). This angle allows us to analyze dilemmas in nationality law that arise from conflicts in legal traditions between countries, such as dual nationality. If there were no migration in the world, assignment of national membership through either jus soli or jus sanguinis would incur the same result: the attribution of nationality at birth would be enough to define a person’s membership and stay the same through lifetime (Weil 2001), but this is not the case for millions of persons. As people emigrate and get married to persons of other nationalities and eventually have children who can aspire to the nationality of both parents, jus sanguinis (the right of a person born to parents of a certain nationality to get that same nationality – i.e., ‘right of blood’) leads to potential conflicts between nationality rules of the parents and with the jus soli (the right of persons born in a territory to acquire the nationality of that territory – i.e., ‘right of soil’) in the country where the children are born. Also, as people born into a country emigrate to other countries where they seek a formal membership to match their social circumstances, the acceptance of dual nationality by both ‘receiving’ and ‘sending’ states for migrants plays an important role in decisions of whether people naturalize or not. This is why the different national membership attributions across countries reflect divergent state responses to cross-border movement as applied to both immigrants and/or emigrants.4 A caveat is in line here. As much as, for the purpose of simplification, crosscountry comparisons tend to reduce a citizenship profile to a handful of principles contained in laws, there is no reason why we should assume that a narrative of citizenship is homogeneous within a state and coherent across its institutions. In fact, there is often a struggle of competing narratives about membership across different powers (Smith 2014; Hansen and Koehler 2005). This is the reason why in this chapter we do refer to principles that generally serve as indicators for legal citizenship profiles (such as the reliance on jus soli or jus sanguinis), but we neither stay at that kind of analysis nor strive to come up with a narrative of what we deem to be the prevailing understanding of citizenship and nationality in Korea. Rather, we aim to make visible the struggle between discourses and agendas across different branches of the state vis-à-vis the challenges imposed by migration. To accomplish that, we will shed light on different public venues of policy with regard to nationality reforms: lawmaking, court cases, and competitive presidential campaigns. For us, this means looking at those parts of government where
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decisions on access to citizenship are made and considering how they operate (their institutional rules and their composition).5 This makes it feasible to observe what would otherwise be too complex and entangled for us to dissect empirically since, as Guiraudon (1998) said, one can only narrow the range of likely policy outcomes by pinning down the political venues that a reform has to go through. Before we engage with an analysis of the institutional setting, the following section will first delineate how migration and nationality policies in Korea have transformed over time, identifying nodes of change as Korea shifted its profile from a migrant-sending to a migrant-receiving country, and then highlight the current main features of that profile.
Transformation of migration policies in Korea: Immigrants, emigrants, and people in-between After the first democratically held elections in Korea, the Nationality Act was enacted on December 20, 1948. Since its passage, the Act has been amended 16 times. After a ten-year interlude which included the Korean War, the first amendment was made to the Act in 1962. In that same year, the Emigration Act was passed to facilitate emigration, in particular the labour migration of Korean miners and nurses to West Germany that began in the 1960s as part of the Gastarbeiter regime (Creutzenberg 2007). Still in force today, the Act also deals with restrictions on emigration (e.g. for those attempting to evade military service) and regulates agencies that broker and facilitate emigration. One year following the Emigration Act, the Immigration Act was enacted. It is important to note that the Korean term for the Immigration Act directly translates to Law on the Management of Exit and Entry of the Country (출입국관리법). When an official English translation of the Immigration Act was first published in 1996, it was titled the Immigration Control Act.6 However, it was re-named as the Immigration Act in 2016, perhaps in view of the former title’s negative overtone. Beyond specifying the conditions for admission, since 2012, Article 39 of the Act provides a legal framework for the social integration of foreigners. The Immigration Act has proven to be dynamic, going through 36 amendments, including four significant amendments in 1967, 1977, 1983, and 1992. While not all these are relevant to the entry, stay, and naturalization of foreigners, they provide the basis for the legal status of migrants in Korean society, whether emigrants or immigrants. Once Park Chung Hee came into power in 1961, he began an economic development project to transition the Korean economy from import substitution industrialization to export-oriented growth. As has been writ large in development literature, the ‘Asian Tigers’ achieved economic growth under varying degrees of authoritarian rule. In an attempt to quell discontent from society, Park declared martial law and dissolved the National Assembly in 1972. Meanwhile, boosted by the cash injection from a treaty on the normalization of relations with Japan, the economy grew at a rapid speed and Korea celebrated reaching 10 billion dollars in export earnings in 1977. Korea only held democratic elections again in 1987 after a violent student protest now called the Gwangju
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Massacre. During the authoritarian rule, there was little change to the migration laws, with no enactment of new major laws and limited amendments to the Immigration Act and the Nationality Act. A turning point came just ahead of 1988, when Korea hosted the Summer Olympics in Seoul. In addition to labour shortages in the construction sector, there was a growing demand for workers in the manufacturing, construction, fishery, and services industries, and the government began tacitly overseeing the entry and stay of migrant workers (Kong, Yoon, and Yu 2010). Many hailing from Southeast Asian countries are thought to have entered on tourist visas and remained to pursue work irregularly (C.-J. Lee 2003). In 1991 the government launched a ‘trainee’ programme modelled closely after the Japanese example, but the scheme was only administered at the level of guidelines (Yoo 2005). After facing much criticism over the exploitation of foreign workers, the government introduced the Employment Permit System (henceforth EPS) in 2003 which is still the official government-to-government programme for bringing temporary low-skilled foreign labour to Korea. After the Act on the Employment, etc., of Foreign Workers was passed, there was a one-time regularization campaign that lasted for several months and benefited 184,199 foreigners. As of December 2018, there are 274,727 workers in Korea under the EPS scheme (‘Registered foreigners by district’ 2019). While EPS still faces criticism for restrictions on number of job changes and the absence of family reunification (‘Concluding Observations…’ 2019), it has undergone improvements made possible largely by struggles by civil society activists (D. Kim 2011). The growing presence of marriage migrants has been a driving force for redrawing lines of membership in Korea. Around the time that migrant workers began arriving in Korea in large numbers, migration of female spouses, either already married to or intending to marry male Korean nationals, also became a significant trend (H.-K. Lee 2008; Seol et al. 2005). The government has been generally receptive to their integration into Korean society, largely due to the fact that it is ethnic Korean men (and not naturalized non-ethnic-Koreans) who are marrying foreign spouses, and also considering the steadily declining fertility rate in Korea, which reached a record low of 0.96 in 2018 (Haas 2018). In 2005, marriage with foreigners made up 14% of marriages (Jones 2007). In order to account for the changing demographic balance, the government passed the Multicultural Families Support Act in 2008 and established the support of such families as a key pillar in the First Basic Plan on Immigration Policy unveiled that same year.7 Looking at both labour migration and marriage migration, immigrants of Korean ancestry play a large role. Korean–Chinese women were the largest group of marriage migrants arriving in Korea, with about 100,000 between 1990 and 2005 (Y.-J. Lee, Seol, and Cho 2006). Apart from the EPS, there is a sizeable pool of ethnic Korean workers from China and former USSR countries who enter through a differentiated scheme called the Work and Visit (H-2) visa that provides more favourable labour market access but stops short of conferring equal rights to citizens – a sort of in-between category.8 The total numbers of Korean–Chinese workers and non-national EPS workers are similar: as of 2018, there were 274,727
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workers under the EPS compared to 246,189 H-2 visa holders (‘Registered foreigners by district’ 2019). Beyond policies related to entry of ethnic Koreans as workers, the theme of the Korean diaspora – which is spread out in the world and diverse in its profile – looms large on the horizon of migration and nationality policies. It is difficult to identify a uniform diaspora policy from the Korean state towards all its emigrants because, clearly, not all Koreans abroad are treated the same. The controversy surrounding the passage of the Act on the Immigration and Legal Status of Overseas Koreans in 1999 is telling in this regard. The Act was devised in the context of economic liberalization – after gaining membership into the OECD in 1996 and being embroiled in the Asian financial crisis in 1997 – as the government attempted to reach out to the overseas Korean community for their financial and human capital. In the process, however, the lawmakers implicitly decided to allow for greater rights to be enjoyed by Korean descendants living in wealthier countries. This was accomplished by restricting the eligibility to acquire a privileged status to post–Korean War era emigrants, who went mostly to Western countries. Those that emigrated prior – often under much harsher conditions during Japanese colonial rule to Manchuria and what is now Russia and Central Asia – would only be able to access limited rights, creating what has been termed ‘hierarchical nationhood’ (Seol and Skrentny 2009). Finally, the last feature that we want to highlight as defining the migration and nationality policies in contemporary Korea is the division of the peninsula. The regulation of rights and duties of Koreans beyond today’s territorial borders of South Korea is an inextricable part of the construction of nationhood in a divided Korea. North–South relations dictate the terms for key citizen responsibilities such as male military conscription, and the agenda for reunification necessarily entails extensive discussions about lines of belonging. This echoes the nationality rules and practices that the Federal Republic of Germany applied for decades, until after its reunification with the GDR (Green 2001; Thränhardt 1995). For ethnic Germans (i.e. those that escaped the GDR or immigrated from the communist bloc countries), there was privileged, immediate access to nationality and all citizen rights. At the same time, following generations of immigrants who had no German ancestry faced near total exclusion, even in the face of growing numbers of children who were born and raised in Germany, yet who had no access to ever become citizens in the only country they knew.
Key features of the Nationality Act This section introduces the Nationality Act as the main statute dealing with matters of loss and acquisition. Article 2 of the South Korean Constitution states that ‘nationality in the Republic of Korea shall be prescribed by Act’ (Constitution of the Republic of Korea 1987). The Act deals with how nationality can be acquired, lost, and reinstated. It is under the purview of the Nationality Division within the Ministry of Justice which also oversees the Immigration Act. Table 14.1 summarizes the main modes of nationality acquisition and loss that exist globally and their applicability under Korean law.
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Table 14.1 Acquisition and loss of nationality in South Korea. Conditions regarding nationality status
Application in Korea
Jus soli
Generally no, unless the child is stateless Jus sanguinis Yes, if at least one parent is/was a Korean national at the time of birth Naturalization based on socialization (e.g. having No completed public school curriculum) Naturalization based on very long residence (e.g. No longer than ten years) Naturalization based on special achievements Yes Naturalization based on cultural affinity No Naturalization based on financial assets No Naturalization based on marriage Yes, there is a facilitated track for spouses of nationals Naturalization based on statelessness (adults) No Naturalization for regularized immigrants No Nationality for stateless persons (not children) No Reinstatement of nationality for former nationals Yes Dual nationality Yes, but only for certain groups Renunciation of nationality Yes, it is both possible and mandatory except for conscripted dual nationals Loss due to acquisition of foreign nationality Yes Loss due to residence abroad No Involuntary loss through deprivation (other than Yes, but only for naturalized dual lapse due to acquisition of foreign nationality nationals or residence abroad) Source: Data from the IMISEM project.9
The table quickly makes visible the few openings in the Korean nationality regime: they occurred mostly with regard to dual nationality and spouse naturalization provisions. On the whole, however, the table also suggests that the regime privileges birthright and descent as a channel to membership in the polity, and anchors citizenship on civic duties in a context in which military service is still deemed essential to statehood. The existence of compulsory military service for all male Korean nationals gives rise to special provisions in the Act. Jus sanguinis nationality is automatically conferred and male dual nationals by birth wishing to keep their foreign nationality have an obligation to renounce their Korean nationality between the ages of 15 to 18. Otherwise, they must fulfil military service or be prevented from renunciation until they reach the age of 38. Adult foreigners who naturalize do not have to fulfil military service but must renounce their foreign nationality within one year of naturalization.10 For female dual nationals – whether by birth or by naturalization as a minor – that do not renounce their foreign nationality, their Korean nationality is automatically lost at the age of 22. Male dual nationals who complete their military service are eligible to keep both nationalities.
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Dual nationality is only tolerated for the following cases: dual nationals by birth before they come of age, male dual nationals that have completed military service, overseas Koreans over the age of 65 who apply for reinstatement of citizenship,11 naturalized marriage migrants, and those naturalized under the special track (adopted minors and foreigners that have contributed exceptionally to Korea, such as in sports or science). Aside from the aforementioned cases, individuals will automatically lose their Korean nationality in the following scenarios: naturalization abroad, failure to renounce a foreign nationality for dual nationals by birth before a deadline, or failure to renounce a foreign nationality within one year of naturalizing in Korea. Additional grounds for loss exist as the Minister of Justice may revoke the nationality of persons when they are deemed to threaten the national interest as per Article 14-3;12 importantly, this provision only applies to naturalized citizens. The circumstances for nationality loss are admittedly narrower than the conditions laid out for the deportation of permanent residents or other aliens in Article 46 in the Immigration Act, but the extension of executive power to revoke nationality is worth noting. The government differentiates its statistics between voluntary and involuntary loss. In 2017, there were 19,364 instances of involuntary loss and 1,905 renunciations (‘Korea Immigration Service Statistics 2017’ 2018). There are also presumably significant numbers of unreported cases of involuntary loss, as there is no penalty for failure to report.
The institutional guardrails of nationality in Korea This section discusses changes – both attempted and successful – related to nationality that have taken place in each branch of government since 1948. The objective is to identify the main themes around which debates on nationality law have revolved. We ordered them in themes that represent the basis upon which acquisition or loss of nationality depends: dual nationality, naturalization, jus sanguinis, jus soli, reinstatement, and technical grounds (i.e. changes made at an administrative and not substantive level). Dual nationality was the most salient topic of discussion across the branches. The following section focuses on each government branch in turn, beginning with a brief exposition about general characteristics and then observing how each has dealt with nationality. The primary sources are submitted drafts and official reviews of 44 bills in the National Assembly, rulings on 18 cases in the Constitutional Court, and annual reports and guidelines from the Ministry of Justice, as well as newspaper articles and other media coverage.
Debating nationality in Korea Legislative branch: Debates and bills in the National Assembly The Korean National Assembly is composed of elected members serving fouryear terms. Bills can be proposed by both members and the executive branch, and the president has veto power prior to the promulgation stage. While the Assembly has gained public trust over the years, the high rate of expired bills13 and the disproportionate power of the executive branch (C. W. Park 2000) are seen as
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persistent problems. Since the 17th Assembly there has been a dramatic increase in the number of expired bills, especially those proposed by members, compared to those proposed by the executive (Figure 14.1).14 During this period, members have proposed four times more bills concerning the Nationality Act than the executive. Yet, the persistent backlog in the National Assembly is stunting a more dynamic debate around nationality law because many bills never reach a plenary vote, so that the arguments, either for or against, are never heard. Still, we can address the content of the proposed bills with regard to nationality from the enactment of the Nationality Act in 1948 up to the 20th Session of the National Assembly as of August 2018. As the following table shows, dual nationality was the most addressed theme (Table 14.2).15 Of the 14 bills discussing dual nationality, 3 of them passed. A few bills pushed for the expansion of dual nationality, including a bill passed in 2010 that allowed dual nationality – albeit in the restricted manner mentioned previously – for the first time (Bill 1807200) and an expired bill that would have offered dual nationality for talented foreigners as an incentive for naturalization (Bill 177945). Some bills addressed the lack of knowledge about nationality laws among dual nationals by birth which results in involuntary loss of nationality for female 30000 25000 20000 15000 10000 5000 0 16th
17th
18th
Expired
Proposed bills
19th
Figure 14.1 Expiration of bills in the National Assembly. Source: An and Kim 2016. Table 14.2 Themes addressed by bills on nationality.16 Theme
Total
Passed
Dual nationality Naturalization Jus sanguinis Reinstatement Technical N/A*
14 13 6 4 4 2
3 5 1 1 1 2
*The bill to enact the Nationality Act in 1948 and wholly amend the Act in 1997 was coded as N/A.
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nationals or military conscription for male nationals living abroad due to missing the timeline for renunciation. Bill 1800656 proposed sending a notice by mail to all dual nationals by birth a year prior to the deadline for declaring their chosen nationality, but an evaluation committee noted that ascertaining valid addresses for all those concerned would be difficult. Bill 172333 brought up the issue that although Korean nationality is automatically lost upon acquiring a foreign nationality, many people do not report their new acquisition, thereby making them covert dual nationals. The proposal was to enforce a penalty of 20 million KRW (approx. US$20,000) for the failure to report.17 The most publicized and salient of the dual nationality bills has been the successfully passed Bill 170849 of 2005, which amended Article 12 to make it mandatory for male dual nationals by birth to choose their nationality between January to March in the year that they turn 18 years old, when they are conscripted. It also included a provision that would prevent those who were born abroad without the family’s intention to settle abroad from renouncing their nationality. The ambiguity of the phrase ‘without intention to settle abroad’ was questioned in parliamentary debates, but the main leader of this bill – conservative Hong Joon-Pyo – argued for its relevance, appealing to media reports about rapidly increasing rates of renunciation at consulates in the United States and the alleged practice of temporary overseas stays for the purposes of renunciation. Naturalization was also a frequently recurring theme and in fact, five bills successfully passed. Of those five, two bills from the 1960s concerned points such as requiring renunciation of foreign nationality upon naturalization (AA0606) and elimination of public service restriction for naturalized citizens (AA0817). More recently two restrictive bills from the executive successfully passed: Bill 177771 instituted the revocation of nationality where there is evidence of deception and Bill 2003961 tightened the criteria for naturalization eligibility. Other proposed bills attempted to provide further clarification of naturalization criteria, such as by refining the legal definition of the requirement for ‘good conduct’ (Bill 1908553) and by limiting the duration for the exercise of discretionary power by the Minister of Justice for decisions on the revocation of nationality (Bill 1802232). The bills concerning marriage migration – 5 out of the 13 bills – also touched upon naturalization criteria but particularly touched upon the conditions for accessing the facilitated track. Some appealed to the protection of human rights of foreign spouses, for instance, such as by maintaining a shorter residency requirement even in cases of divorce (Bill 1904692) and in cases of proven incidence of domestic violence (Bill 1900491). For the legislative committee evaluation reports in these bills, there was a shared negative outlook about the potential increase in fake marriages and that existing provisions – such as Article 25 of the Immigration Act which grants temporary residency status to domestic violence victims – are sufficient. While marriage migrants may face more liberal entry conditions compared with other migrants, the break-up of marital relations still poses a threat to their security of status. As such, there was mixed legislative intent, involving both expanding and tightening eligibility criteria.
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Many of the bills discussing jus sanguinis acquisition dealt with the eligibility of descendants of independence activists18 who were either stateless or not yet Korean nationals when they passed away (Bill 1724300), as well as the descendants of North Koreans (Bill 1903741). The successful bill (161068) in the 16th session expanded the scope of retroactive conferral of nationality through matrilineal lineage, which had become possible through the 1997 whole amendment of the Act. While many of the bills contained changes that would expand the eligibility for national membership by way of clearer criteria and special considerations, the backlog poses a major challenge to the many attempts at reforming the Nationality Act. As well, the fact that government-proposed bills are more likely to pass presents an obstacle to more rights-centred and inclusive reforms, because progressive bills are more likely to be proposed by members, such as those on marriage migrants. Judicial branch: Judgements of the Constitutional Court The Constitutional Court of Korea is highly respected by the public and functions as a major actor in governance (Ginsburg 2009). It was established in 1987 and deals with matters of impeachment and dissolution of political parties, as well as the constitutionality of laws and decisions of lower courts, including the Supreme Court (West and Yoon 1992). Anyone whose basic constitutional rights have been violated can file a complaint. Although there is still ensuing debate, this means that foreigners can also bring a case forward, although not without having exhausted all other avenues (Lim et al. 2017) (Table 14.3). A review of 18 cases beginning in 1997 shows that only one case resulted in an amendment to the Nationality Act. This was the landmark decision of 97HeonKa12 which allowed Korean mothers to transfer their nationality to their children. This ruling was reflected in the whole amendment of 1997, which undertook sweeping modifications to remove gender bias.20 Twelve cases were dismissed on procedural and other technical grounds and five decisions found articles in the Act to be constitutional. When we look at the content of the bills, we find that, as in the legislative assembly, dual nationality was the most frequently occurring theme. Interestingly, all of these cases were filed by Korean–American dual nationals born in the United States. The first case was 2002HeonBa13 where the Minister of Justice provided the statement that Korea is not the only country to place restrictions on the loss of Table 14.3 Themes in the Constitutional Court Cases.19 Dual nationality Naturalization Jus sanguinis Marriage migration Reinstatement
7 6 3 1 1
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nationality. He further argued that in a democracy, obligations of military service and taxation have fundamental and constitutional value, and that allowing dual nationals to evade their military duties in an opportunistic manner would impair the principle of equitable justice and, furthermore, threaten the entire premise of national defence. Subsequent complaints about the same article were all dismissed, even though several of those plaintiffs attested to having no knowledge about their status as a dual national, as they were born and raised in the United States.21 For the cases on naturalization, there were three cases from Korean–Chinese plaintiffs; 2015HeonBa26 challenged the fact that there is no time limit for revocation of nationality due to forged documents (2015HeonBa26) and 2007HeonMa1458 challenged rejections based on missing documents. The case 2007HeonMa1454 concerned the fact that the special facilitated track for naturalization required more than three years of continued residence in the country, while many Korean–Chinese enter on three-year permits and end up ineligible due to time lost during bureaucratic procedures. This case was dismissed because the plaintiff had already naturalized, voiding the need for a ruling. Aside from the ruling in 97HeonKa12, there has not been too much change through the judicial branch. However, the challenges to Article 12 may still be forthcoming due to continued backlash from the overseas Korean community. It was seen as a positive sign that the latest challenge in 2013HeonMa805 included opinions from four judges that Article 12 violates the individual’s freedoms, especially in that they may not be able to seek public service employment in their country of primary residence (e.g. the United States) because the law prohibits dual nationals from eligibility. Executive branch: The Ministry of Justice’s application of nationality guidelines The Ministry of Justice administers both the immigration and nationality portfolios through the Korea Immigration Service. The Ministry’s far-reaching powers are legally embedded, beginning with the fact that naturalization procedures need to be formally approved by the Minister of Justice. Much of the process is governed by internal Ministry guidelines and since these are not recognized as laws, they remain outside of judicial review (C. Lee 2017). And yet, these guidelines are of the utmost importance for individual migrants who aspire to Korean nationality. As per a document titled the Guidelines on Nationality Administration and the Guidelines on the Reinstatement of Nationality and Other Affairs for Co-Ethnics of Foreign Nationality, applications for naturalization and reinstatement of nationality by Korean–Chinese were refused until 2001 (C. Lee 2012).22 The discretionary power of the Ministry of Justice has been challenged on several cases involving the revocation of nationality for naturalized persons who had forged documents, but so far they have been unsuccessful (see 2015HeonBa304, 2015HeonBa26). Beyond the Ministry of Justice, many aspects of migration policy are also established through presidential decrees (Kang 2015). Where the Nationality Act
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is concerned, the hierarchy is as follows: the Act, Enforcement Decree (decided by presidential decree), Enforcement Rules, followed by Guidelines.23 The graph in Figure 14.2 shows that, while the number of immigrants naturalizing has seemingly increased, the rate of refusal has also been rising. According to an annual report from the Ministry of Justice, the lower rates of naturalization in 2006 and 2007 were related to bureaucratic issues: the handling of naturalization procedures was being transferred from the Office of Legal Affairs to the Nationality Division within the Korea Immigration Service (‘Korea Immigration Service Statistics 2011’ 2012, 594). As for loss, the vast majority of cases were involuntary loss relating to the acquisition or retention of a foreign nationality. There was a significant spike in 2016, but this does not necessarily reflect reported instances. As the Ministry of Justice explained, the figure reflects the cases of loss that have been registered by the Ministry in that year, but the procedural loss may have already occurred in the preceding years. It has also been stated that an impetus for intensifying the processing of nationality loss was to prepare for an upcoming presidential election (Y. J. Kim 2018). As per Article 14 of the Act, renunciation of nationality requires the applicant to have overseas residence and to file the claim at a consular mission. While it is not the bulk of their administrative tasks, nationality-related matters have been increasing in volume: at the Korean consulate in Los Angeles, the number of nationality cases increased by 40.6% between 2016 and 2017 (H. S. Han 2018). This may be due to increased awareness about the specifics of nationality law that compel dual nationals by birth to explicitly renounce (Figure 14.3). 60000 50000 40000 30000 20000 10000 0 2004 2005 2006 2007 2008 2009 2010 2011 2012 2013 2014 2015 2016 Accepted
Rejected
Figure 14.2 Statistics on naturalization. Source: ‘Korea Immigration Service Statistics’ 2011–2017.
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40000 35000 30000 25000 20000 15000 10000 5000 0 2004 2005 2006 2007 2008 2009 2010 2011 2012 2013 2014 2015 2016 Involuntary loss
Renuncia˜on
Figure 14.3 Statistics on loss. Source: ‘Korea Immigration Service Statistics’ 2011–2017.
Discussion: The centrality of dual nationality The fact that dual nationality makes up the bulk of governmental activity in its three branches with regard to the access of migrants to nationality is not surprising in itself. However, the circumstances for its relevance are unique in Korea, and there are several factors that make wider access to dual nationality an unpopular policy option for lawmakers. Male military conscription is a highly sensitive topic where gender inequity intersects with class resentment over elites’ exemption by way of international mobility. There are also concerns in the diplomatic arena, where Chinese and Russian governments have expressed scepticism over Korea’s overseas diaspora engagement policy for fear that a strengthened Korean nationhood beyond its borders may incite separatist sentiments among Korean ethnic minorities living in their territories (J.-Y. Lee 2002).24 Future attempts to broaden the eligibility for dual nationality will need to address the thorny topic of privilege – whether gender-based or class-based – and the historical and geographic scope of the Korean diaspora. Individual claims for dual nationality are still subordinate to the need for preserving a state-governed definition of the Korean nation. At the same time, the dilemma facing certain dual nationals has become better known in recent years, as it becomes clear that dual nationality can be a burden when it is imposed rather than sought. In a petition to the South Korean government, a group of Koreans residing in Singapore requested government intervention for their double conscription bind, and more specifically for exemption from conscription in Korea (Minutes from the National Defence Committee 2014). Currently, Singapore is the only country in the world that requires its permanent
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residents to undergo compulsory military service.25 As such, Singapore’s permanent residents with Korean nationality are forced to comply with conscription in both countries. As of 2014, there were 68 such individuals known to the Military Manpower Administration, but there may be more. As with determining the nationality status of overseas Koreans, the Korean government has few means to assess exact numbers of overseas permanent residents other than through selfreporting. This petition was discussed during a defence committee meeting in 2014 and the concluding remarks from the Military Manpower Administration state that considering the negative fallout from selective exemption, this matter would be best handled through diplomatic channels.26 In these formal debates surrounding dual nationality, there is no attention devoted to the immigrants’ perspective. And disappointingly, the recent bills that passed concerning naturalization moved towards tightening eligibility. Against the background of a growing immigrant population, it is remarkable that there has been no discussion whatsoever about adopting jus soli policies, even for the second generation immigrants and even for the children of recognized refugees. The current situation leaves no path open for children born to refugees in Korea to become Korean nationals unless they have at least one Korean parent at the time of birth (Jang 2018). Among the second generation of immigrants, there are varying degrees of legal exclusion and disenfranchisement. As of November 2018, a newspaper article estimated that there were as many as 20,000 undocumented children in Korea, owing to the fact that foreigners cannot register their children’s birth with Korean authorities (S.-H. Han 2018). Even in cases of children born out of wedlock to a Korean father and a foreign mother, their births can only be registered with a foreign embassy (Committee on the Elimination of Racial Discrimination 2018). Without birth registration, children have their basic rights curtailed as they are unable to attend schools or go to hospitals. It is all the more ironic that a reverse battle is being fought by Korean–American dual nationals on the other side of the ocean, to be able to renounce their nationality. In the backdrop of growing criticism by political theorists of birthright-based assignment of nationality for its arbitrary character and imposition of national interest (Cohen 2005 and Shachar 2009), the Korean government insists on tying membership to birthright. Reading this in conjunction with recent interpretations of the extension of the franchise to resident immigrants (Brubaker and Kim 2011; Kalicki 2009a; Pedroza and Mosler 2018), which also found those extensions to be severely limited in scope to benefit mostly ethnic Korean immigrants, has sobering implications for whatever projections of change there are towards a more inclusive understanding of citizenship in the contemporary Korean polity.
Conclusion Kang Wook-Joong was a member of the National Assembly in 1948 who spoke passionately about the need to eliminate Article 20 from the Nationality Act: What has this mindset wrought for our nation, for our country? We find ourselves in the current state of affairs because of the dogmatic, conservative,
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and feudalistic view that our bloodline is pure. What futile effort and sin against future generations would this be, to reignite this mindset just as we are about to do away with its legacies? (National Assembly Minutes 1948) While he found no vocal support during the debates and the article was successfully included in the Nationality Act, he presented an appeal for equality and civic values of citizenship that still finds resonance today: ‘With the advancement of our society, international relations are thriving, international trade has developed, international marriage has been recognized, and since then, those nations that once called for purity of blood are now calling for liberation from blood’ (ibid.). While during his time the political circumstances made a nationality regime based on descent at least understandable, he could not foresee that 70 years later the liberation from blood would be so minimal. Over time, both loss and acquisition of nationality would become contentious topics. Korea keeps a stratified regime of citizenship that has opened spaces for membership to immigrants in a highly selective fashion, filtering them through the gates of Korean ancestry. At the same time, Korea also stratified the treatment of its emigrants through differentiating diaspora and dual nationality policies along the lines of military duties and economic power.27 As of 2019, the few openings are observable only in the very limited voting rights gained by some residents, and the admission of dual nationality for those over the age of 65 or for men who have served in the military. Thus, we conclude that the terms of citizenship and membership have proven to be rigid in the face of a different migration profile. For a long time, Korea was known as a country of emigration, evidenced by the fact that the Emigration Act preceded the Immigration Act. Unfortunately, that experience has not translated into a legacy that affords sympathy, empathy, or reciprocity to the newly arriving immigrants in Korean society. Looking at the government branches that have key competencies over the Nationality Act, we found in this chapter that some institutional factors hamper more progressive and dynamic changes to how nationality law is regulated and practised, in particular: the systemic backlog in the legislative branch, whereby, especially, the rights-expanding bills proposed by members expire before reaching a vote; the powerlessness of the Constitutional Court to bring about change in the Nationality Act due to its limitation which only allows it to address plaintiffs who see their human rights threatened; and the unlikelihood that the executive branch will curtail its own wide scope of power and action beyond judicial review in the application of rules pertaining to nationality. Rather than a proactive stance by key institutions to reform nationality laws in order to accommodate a new demographic reality in Korea, the institutions we analyzed seem to reinforce an ethnic vision of Korean-ness and its concomitant duties.
Notes 1 In 2012 the National Assembly welcomed its first non-ethnic-Korean member in Jasmine Lee, a politician for the Saenuri Party who originally hails from the Philippines.
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2 The online response to the arrival of 500 Yemeni refugees on Jeju Island in 2018 has been vitriolic and xenophobic, prompting the UN Committee on the Elimination of Racial Discrimination to recommend the South Korean government to adopt legislations against hate speech. 3 In the Korean context, it is interesting to observe that the rights and status of emigrant Korean nationals are determined by the same legislation that addresses overseas Koreans (either former nationals or direct descendants of Koreans) (Act on the Immigration and Legal Status of Overseas Koreans 1999). For certain areas such as foreign currency exchange, the two groups are given the same treatment. 4 One only needs to look at the drama that unfolded in Australia in 2017 over the eligibility of several members of the parliament to serve, given that they were dual nationals who are prohibited from standing for election as per section 44(i) of the Australian Constitution. See (Hobbs, Pillai, and Williams 2018) for overview and legal analysis. 5 Thus, while ‘a bureaucrat in the Interior Ministry, one sitting in an agency for integration policy, a politician running for re‐election, and an administrative judge need not think about foreigners’ rights in the same way and use the same criteria’ (Guiraudon 1998, 287); we aspire to observe if there is a pattern to abstract from the decisions they made regarding what is proper policy and what is not. 6 On how a name change reveals changes in government perception of the immigration portfolio and division of labour for migration-related matters, see Garnier (2017), who applies this to Australia. 7 A ‘multicultural family’ needs to have at least one Korean national as per Article 2 of the Act. 8 In comparison, the F-4 visa issued to those who have at least a parent or a grandparent who has held Korean nationality gives close to equal rights of citizenship as nationals. For specified countries of origin (including the People’s Republic of China, the Philippines, Indonesia, and Central Asian countries), applicants must meet additional qualifications based on educational background and income level (Visa Issuance Introductory Manual). 9 The IMISEM Project is a research project supported by the Leibniz Gemeinschaft Competition, running from 2015 to 2017 at German Institute for Global and Area Studies (GIGA). It is collecting data on migration policies for countries across three regions (Asia, Latin America and the Caribbean, and Europe). Both authors of this chapter belong to it. See its website: https://www.giga-hamburg.de/en/project/everyimmigrant-is-an-emigrant-how-migration-policies-shape-the-paths-to-integration 10 As per Article 10, if they cannot renounce nationality, they must vow to not exercise their foreign nationality in Korea – for example, in seeking diplomatic protection of the other country. Then again, it is customary that dual nationals vow to not claim diplomatic protection on one of their states of nationality in their other state of nationality. 11 The right to dual nationality was earned through wide organization among the Korean– American community seeking greater mobility. However, the age restriction exists so that one cannot access the economic, social, and political rights of Korean nationality without fulfilling military service. 12 The circumstances include threats to national security, diplomatic relations, national economy, as well as disruption of the social order in Korean society. The assessment of the latter can be given by the executive. 13 Bills that are not sent for promulgation before the end of an assembly session expire and cease to be valid. 14 Even when accounting for the fact that the volume of proposed bills has gone up, the rate of expiration was higher than the rate of bill initiation. Between the 17th and the 19th Assemblies, the number of expired bills more than tripled while the number of initiated bills only doubled (An and Kim 2016). To add to the public outcry over an inefficient and dysfunctional National Assembly, 94% of the 6,301 expired bills in the 18th
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Assembly were proposed by members and 48.5% of member-proposed bills expired before reaching a final decision (Mok 2014). Each bill was assigned one theme, according to the basis upon which the Act would expand, narrow, or clarify the scope of nationality. Accessed through the National Assembly of the Republic of Korea at http://likms .assembly.go.kr/bill/main.do As it stands, the only penalty that exists is for continuing to use a Korean passport for entry and exit as per the Immigration Act. Independence activists have a special status in Korean society for having fought for freedom from Japanese colonial rule. Some were forced to emigrate before the founding of the Republic of Korea and the Nationality Act did not automatically confer nationality to those residing abroad at the time of enactment. Accessed through Constitutional Court of Korea at http://search.ccourt.go.kr/ths/pr/t hs_pr0101_L1.do The amendment bill put forth by the government refers to Korea’s ratification of the Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination against Women in 1984. In 2014HeonMa401, the plaintiff only discovered his status when his application for a visa to attend a summer study programme in Korea was denied and in 2013HeonMa620, the plaintiff was denied a visa to travel to Korea. After the guidelines were abandoned in 2001, Korean–Chinese came to make up 76% of naturalizing citizens between 2002 and 2012 (Kwon and Kim 2008). There are four guidelines and they concern topics such as criteria for naturalization based on special achievements and the procedure for nationality determination. Discussion of Hungary’s ‘fuzzy citizenship’ policy towards ethnic Hungarians in neighbouring countries (mostly Romania and Slovakia) also shows that diaspora engagement can result in diplomatic quagmires. As partial reprieve, there is the example of Singapore which does not confer automatic jus sanguinis to children of Singaporean national(s) born abroad if the country of birth has the jus soli principle. According to the MMP official, in one case involving a Korean–American officer who was serving in Korea as part of the US military, the individual was given a grace period to be posted to another country. On the use of arbitrary points in time and deadlines to hide other distinctions behind an apparently neutral criterion, see Cohen 2018.
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Lee, Chul-Jae (2003) ‘(When did migrant workers arrive) 외국인 노동자 언제부터 들어왔나’. Choong-Ang Ilbo 중앙일보, November 5. Available online at https://news .joins.com/article/252579. Lee, Chulwoo (2012) ‘How can you say you’re Korean? Law, governmentality and national membership in South Korea’. Citizenship Studies 16 (1), pp. 85–102. https://doi.org/10 .1080/13621025.2012.651405. Lee, Chulwoo (2017) Report on Citizenship Law: The Republic of Korea. Country Report. Global Citizenship Observatory (GLOBALCIT). Available online at http://cadmus.eui .eu/bitstream/handle/1814/45374/GLOBALCIT_CR_2017_06.pdf. Lee, Hye-Kyung (2008) ‘International marriage and the state in South Korea: focusing on governmental policy’. Citizenship Studies 12 (1), pp. 107–123. https://doi.org/10.1080 /13621020701794240. Lee, Jin-Young (2002) ‘Korea-China diplomatic relations and Korean-Chinese co-ethnics’. National Strategy 8 (4), pp. 77–100. Lee, Yean -Ju, Seol, Dong-Hoon and Cho, Sung-Nam (2006) ‘International marriages in South Korea: the significance of nationality and ethnicity’. Journal of Population Research 23 (2), pp. 165–182. https://doi.org/10.1007/BF03031814. Lim, Hee, Seon, Kim and Je, Kyong (2017) ‘The legal status of aliens in Korean constitution – focus on the decision of the constitution court on aliens’. Kookmin Law Review 30 (1), pp. 255–291. Minutes from the National Defence Committee. (2014). Mok, Y.J. (2014) 94% of Expired Bills Are Proposed by Members. ‘Imkimanlyopyeki Peoplyul 94%ka Uiwonpalui’ 임기만료폐기 법률 94%가 의원발의 “일은 해?” 데일리안, July 16. Available online at http://www.dailian.co.kr/news/view/448393. Mosler, Hannes B. and Pedroza, Luicy (2014) ‘An unexpected pioneer in Asia: the enfranchisement of foreign residents in South Korea’. Ethnopolitics, 15 (2), pp. 187– 210. https://doi.org/10.1080/17449057.2014.954318. National Assembly Minutes. (1948). Navarro, Carlos (2007) ‘The political rights of migrant workers and external voting’. In Voting from Abroad. The International IDEA Handbook. Stockholm and Mexico City: IDEA and IFE, pp. 173–174. Available online at http://www.idea.int/publications/vo ting_from_abroad/upload/chap8.pdf. Park, Chan Wook (2000) ‘The national assembly in the newly democratized Korean polity’. Korean Journal of Policy Studies 15 (1), pp. 25–42. Park, Shincha (2014) ‘Who benefits from dual citizenship? The new nationality law and multicultural future of South Korea’. In Kosuke Shimizu and Bradley S. William (eds.) Multiculturalism and Conflict Reconciliation in the Asia-Pacific. London: Palgrave Macmillan, pp. 190–212. Available online at https://link.springer.com/chapter/10.100 7/978-1-137-40360-5_10. Pedroza, Luicy (2014) ‘The democratic potential of enfranchising resident migrants’. International Migration 53 (3), pp. 22–35. https://doi.org/10.1111/imig.12162. Pedroza, Luicy (2019) Citizenship beyond Nationality: Immigrant Voting Rights across the World. Pennsylvania: University of Pennsylvania Press. Pedroza, Luicy and Mosler, Hannes B. (2018) ‘Citizenship and migration in South Korea: in the forefront of democracies?’ In Korea’s Quest for Economic Democratization: Globalization, Polarization and Contention. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, pp. 209–231. Pedroza, Luicy and Palop-García, Pau (2017) ‘The grey area between nationality and citizenship: an analysis of external citizenship policies in Latin America and the
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Bills in the Legislative Assembly: An, Kyu-Paik (2014) Partial Amendment of the Nationality Act. Cho, Il-Hyun (2007) Partial Amendment of the Nationality Act. Cho, Myeong-Cheol (2012) Partial Amendment of the Nationality Act. Cho, Yoon-Sun (2008) Partial Amendment of the Nationality Act. Choi, Kyu-Sik (2005) Partial Amendment of the Nationality Act. Choi, Yong-Kyu (2008) Partial Amendment of the Nationality Act. Government. (2007) Partial Amendment of the Nationality Act.
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Government. (2009) Partial Amendment of the Nationality Act. Hong, Jun-Pyo (2004) Partial Amendment of the Nationality Act. Hong, Mi-Young (2005) Partial Amendment of the Nationality Act. Hwang, Wu-Yeoh (2013) Partial Amendment of the Nationality Act. Im, In-Bae (2005) Partial Amendment of the Nationality Act. Im, Su-Kyeong (2014) Partial Amendment of the Nationality Act. In, Jae-Keun (2013) Partial Amendment of the Nationality Act. Kang, Ki-Jeong (2015) Partial Amendment of the Nationality Act. Kim, Choon-Jin (2008) Partial Amendment of the Nationality Act. Kim, Hoe-Sun (2014) Partial Amendment of the Nationality Act. Kim, Won-Woong (2005) Partial Amendment of the Nationality Act. Lee, Sang-Min (2008) Partial Amendment of the Nationality Act. Lee, Seong-Kwon (2006) Partial Amendment of the Nationality Act. National Assembly Minutes. (1948a). National Assembly Minutes. (1948b). Noh, Cheol-Rae (2009). Partial Amendment of the Nationality Act. Park, Nam-Choon (2013) Partial Amendment of the Nationality Act. Shim, Jae-Cheol (2013) Partial Amendment of the Nationality Act. Won, Yoo-Cheol (2012) Partial Amendment of the Nationality Act. Yang, Chang-Young (2014) Partial Amendment of the Nationality Act. Yeo, Sang-Kyu (2011) Partial Amendment of the Nationality Act. Yoo, Ki-Jun (2006) Partial Amendment of the Nationality Act.
Cases in the Constitutional Court: 2005HeonMa739. 2006. Korean Constitutional Court. 2007HeonMa1183. 2009. Korean Constitutional Court. 2007HeonMa1454. 2008. Korean Constitutional Court. 2007HeonMa1458. 2008. Korean Constitutional Court. 2011HeonMa502. 2014. Korean Constitutional Court. 2013HeonBa424. 2015. Korean Constitutional Court. 2013HeonMa620. 2013. Korean Constitutional Court. 2013HeonMa805. 2015. Korean Constitutional Court. 2014HeonBa211. 2015. Korean Constitutional Court. 2014HeonMa146. 2014. Korean Constitutional Court. 2014HeonMa401. 2014. Korean Constitutional Court. 2014HeonMa670. 2014. Korean Constitutional Court. 2015HeonBa26. 2015. Korean Constitutional Court. 2015HeonBa304. 2015. Korean Constitutional Court.
Index
Locators in bold refer to tables and locators in italics refer to figures. 1999 Bangkok Declaration on Irregular Migration 27 Abe administration 10 A Beijing Man in New York 142 ABRAH 288 Act on the Immigration and Legal Status of Overseas Koreans 301 Additional Articles of the Constitution (Taiwan) 204 Admission Scheme for Mainland Talents and Professionals (ASMTP), Hong Kong 230 Admission Scheme for the Second Generation of Chinese Hong Kong Permanent Residents (ASSG) 231 advanced industrial economies 21, 22, 24, 25 African and Chinese business partners 51 African–Chinese relations 46, 61–62 African–Chinese trading business 49 African diaspora 51–52; in China 43–44; in Guangzhou (China) 59–61 African Economic Zones 62 African immigrants, in China 45–47; Guangzhou (China) 9 African traders 43–45; building internal local networks 50–51; discriminatory practices against in China 43; in Guangzhou 47–49; surveillance of 52–54 ageing populations 3; in East Asia 10–11; in Japan 257; in Shanghai 77 Ahl, Björn 6, 10 Aliana de Intercâmbio Brasil Japão 288 alienation, fear of 3 All-China Women’s Federation (ACWF) 101 Anagnost, Ann 143
Anglo-Saxon immigration countries 17, 18, 19, 32 anti-communist bastion 199–201, 216 anti-human trafficking initiatives 33 anti-immigration policies, enforcement of 237 Arab guest workers 20 Arendt, Hannah 296 Asian financial crisis 43 (Asian Crisis), 26, 27, 301 Asian immigration movements, regulation of 19 Asianization 19 Asian–Pacific migration region 17 Asian Tigers 21, 22, 299 Asia Pacific Regional Section 285 assimilation pessimists 10 asylum, and China 6, 161–166 Bangkok Declaration on Irregular Migration (1999) 27 Barabantseva, Elena 9, 10 Battistella, Graziano 4 Bayok, Anastasiya 6 bills in the National Assembly, expiration of 304 birth tourism 8; mainland Chinese 234 Black Africans, racialization of in China 46–47 Blagoveshchensk 125–128 blue-stamp hukou 75 Bodomo, Adam 46 Boucher, Anna K. 28, 32 Brazil, ethnic Japanese from 6 Brazilian community, in Japan 287–288; counter-identity 289; identity and culture 278
320
Index
Brazilian diaspora 278, 285–288 Brazilian-Japanese communities 257–258, 277 Brazilian-return migrants 289 Brazilians, in Japan 277 bridge theory 46 Building a Nation on the Value of Human Rights Protection’ 217 Çaǧlar, Ayse 45, 67 Canton Fair 43 Capital Investment Entrant Scheme 231–232 Central Asia 17 Chang, So Young 8, 10 Charles-Edwards, Elin 17 Cheema, G. Shabbir 4 Cheng, Isabelle 5, 7, 10 Chiang Ching-kuo 203 Chiavacci, David 2, 6, 9 China 2, 135; administrative reform in 3, 184, 187, 192; African migrants in 9, 45–47; challenging refugee protection norms 170–171; citizenship in 9, 69, 135–150; Convention on the Protection of the Rights of Migrant Workers and 179; discriminatory practices against African immigrants 43; emigration policy of the 1970s 20; emigration pressure on 26; as host country to refugees 155; illegal immigrants in 10, 97–103; international migration to 179; and the international refugee protection regime 156–158; Middle East diplomacy and 170; migration cooperation with Russia 115–117; as origin of refugees 155; point-based immigration systems 6; political asylum in 126; and the protection of immigrant rights 188; refugee policy 155–156; refugee policy in the 1980s to 2010s 160–166; refugee protection norms in 166–170; residence permit 59, 102, 181, 183–184; signing of the Refugee Convention and the Protocol 161, 171; and socialization toward human rights norm 160–162; work visa (Z-visa) 181–183 China Dream 140 Chinese citizenship: regime 136; and visas for foreign spouses 150 Chinese civil war, mainlander immigration during 227 Chinese Communist Party (CCP) 68, 70, 82, 96, 99, 108, 136, 187, 191; Central Committee 101
Chinese Eastern Railway (CER) 126 Chinese–foreign marriages 135 Chinese government, central 3, 43, 58, 67, 69–71, 73, 94–96, 103–105; local governments 47, 52–54, 61, 68, 74–81, 100–102 Chinese Green Cards 59 Chinese immigration legislation: and African traders 59–61; new 58–59 Chinese immigration regimes 70–73, 93, 136; Russian and Ukrainian women and 9 Chinese mainlanders: and immigration 8, 204, 217, 233–235; stigmatization of 8, 237, 239; visa restrictions and 8, 242 Chinese men, Russian and Ukrainian women marriage to 9, 141, 145, 147 Chinese migration, internal 10, 67–83 Chinese spouses, attitudes toward in Taiwan 215 Chinese women, and control over their bodies/reproductive rights 140 Chun Doo-hwan dictatorship 203 citizenization (shiminhua) 70 citizenship 136, 298; in China 9; dual 8, 137, 296; graduated 9, 10, 92, 93, 109; and immigrant rights 5; and Immigration Control and Refugee Recognition Act (ICRRA) 270–273; and immigration regimes 9–11; in Japan 259; in Korea 296; politics of 9–11; right of 296 citizenship policy 17, 33 Cold war 199–201, 216 compulsory military service 8: and dual citizenship/nationality 309–310 concubines 147 Constitutional Court of Korea 306–307, 311; themes of cases in 306 Convention on the Protection of the Rights of Migrant Workers, in China 179 Convention Relating to the Status of Refugees (1951) see Refugee Convention, the Council of Europe’s Intercultural Cities network 285 Court of Final Appeal (Hong Kong) 240 cross-border governance issues 4, 129 cross-cultural friendships/marriages 51 Cross-Strait Act 204, 205, 212, 215 cultural homogeneity 6 Curley, Melissa 5 currency traders 52 Czoske, Pilar-Paz 6, 10
Index debt bondage 27 Democratic Progressive Party (DPP) 203 demographic ageing, in Northeast Asia 30 discrimination: against Chinese men and foreign wives 147–148; and ethnic Japanese 278 discriminatory immigration policies, revoking of 19 Division of International Affairs of the Hamamatsu City Hall 285 dual citizenship/nationality 8, 108, 137, 296–299, 302, 304, 309–310 East Asia 2, 17; immigration in 4; and intraregional migration flows 23–24, 27; labour and marriage migration in 198; as a migration destination 22; migration flows to 18; as a non-migration region 19; policy-making in 5; and regional migration governance 28 East Asian countries, migration flows to 18 East Asian economic miracle 20–21 East Asian governments, and citizenship policies 9–10 East Asian immigration economies, and Asian international migration 32 East Asian immigration regimes 1; migration, statistics 19 East Asian migration region 16, 18; boundaries of 17–19; and citizenship policies 27; comparison to Europe 25; composition of 23, 24; development of 30–32; migration potential of 23–26; and South Asian immigrants 19; transformation into 21–22, 32; unilateral immigration policies 26–30 see also East Asia East Asian non-migration region, becoming an East Asian migration region 19–23 East Asian states, and immigration 1 economic development, and emigration movements 21 economic partnership agreements (EPA) 28 economic-stream immigrants 185–188 emerging economies 21, 22, 26 emigrants’ remittance 25–26 Emigration Act (Korea) 299, 311 emigration countries, structural dependence on 25–26 emigration economies 18 emigration movements 18; and economic development 21 emotional relationships, between African and Chinese business partners 51
321
Employment Permit System (EPS) 300–301 Employment Services Act (1992) 207, 209 ethnic capital 210–213 ethnic chauvinism 8 ethnic descent, nationality law 8 ethnic enclaves 46 ethnic hegemony 6; Japanese 8 ethnic homogeneity 268, 280, 288, 295 ethnic Japanese: from Brazil 6; Japan’s immigration policy and 277–278 ethnic-Korean returnees 4 ethnic nationalism 10 ethnic return migration, contribution to East Asian migration inflows 19 Eurasian children 9; attitudes toward 147–149 European immigration experience 25–26 Exit-Entry Administration Law (EEL) 58, 97–98, 137, 163, 173, 181; legal measures against 190–191 family planning policies 140 family relations, marketization of 147 Federal Republic of Germany 301 feminist scholarship, and marriage and labour migration 135 fertility rates 3 Fifth Forum on China-African Cooperation (FOCAC) 61 Finnemore, Martha 158 First Basic Plan on Immigration Policy (South Korea) 300 First Gulf War 21 floating population, in China 51–52 foreign direct investment, and Japan 22 foreign employees, in China 189 foreigners 2; surveillance of in Guangzhou 52–54 Foreigners Employment Regulations 188, 189 foreign immigration law, and China’s immigration law 179 foreign nationals, Chinese legislations 179–181 Foreign Professionals Act (2017) 207 Foreign Residents Council 289 foreign trainee programmes 29 foreign wives, in China 101, 135–137 see also marriage migrants, racism in wives’ country 147–149 foreign workers: irregular 29–30; mass repatriation of 27; selection of in Taiwan 207; in Taiwan 207 Four Asian Tigers 22; and industrialization 21
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free trade agreements (FTA) 28 Freie Universität Berlin 2 Frontier Closed Area 238 Gastarbeiter regime 299 General Employment Policy (GEP) 229–230; visas issued under 230 Gest, Justin 28, 32 Glick Schiller, Nina 67 Global Compact for Migration 5, 44, 97, 179, 295 global financial crisis 278 globalization 198; and international migration 19 global migration 31 global mobility 1 Goodman, Roger 278 graduated citizenship 9, 10, 92, 93, 109 graduated illegality 93 Graduate School of East Asian Studies 2 Gransow, Bettina 8–9 Great Leap Forward 238 Great Proletarian Cultural Revolution 238 Greenhalgh, Susan 140 grey zones, legal 4 Guangdong Free Trade Zone 59 Guangdong Regulations 54–57 Guangzhou: African immigrants in 9; African traders 59–61; African traders in 43–45, 47–49; immigration legislation in 54–57; surveillance of foreigners in 52–54 guest worker programmes 29, 29–31; in Japan 31, 33 Guidelines on Nationality Administration (South Korea) 307 Guiraudon, Virginie 299 Gulf Cooperative Council (GCC) 17–18; as an emigration destination 20 Gulf region 32; and need for foreign workers 20, 21 H-2 visa holders (South Korea) 301 Haiti 25 half-Chinese children 137 Hamamatsu 6; Central Library 285; City 277, 278, 282; Brazilian residents in 288–289; Hamamatsu Declaration 289; Hamamatsu Foundation for Intercultural Communication and Exchange (HICE) 278, 284; and multiculturalism 282–285 Heihe 125–128 hierarchical nationhood 301
high-skilled-labour immigration/workers 2, 7, 181, 186, 188 Hirschmann, Albert O. 30 Home Affairs Committee at the Legislative Yuan (Taiwan) 215 homogeneous nation, Japan as 277, 289 Hong Kong 2, 7, 225; citizenship, Chinese mainlanders and 8; employment schemes 229–232; immigration regime 240–242; issues with mainlander immigration to 237–240; mainlander immigration to 227–234; mainland students in 236; One-Way Permit policy and 234; post-handover development 240–242; post-war history of and immigration 238–240; refugee immigration 232–234; Right of Abode 233 household registration, in Taiwan 5, 199 household registration (hukou) system 68 Huang Rihan 170 human capital 6 human rights, and immigration practices 4 human rights norms: internalization of 158–160; and migrants 27; strategic adaptation and 160 human trafficking issues 4, 27, 30 Human Trafficking Prevention Act 214 identity see national identity illegal immigrants 7; in China 10, 91–93; and population security in China 102–107; as a threat to regional security 102–107 illegal immigration 53, 91–93 immigrants 4; criminalization of 7; discriminatory practices against 8; discriminatory treatment of in Korea 296; economic-stream 185–188; fear against 108; illegal 7, 91–114; to Japan 278; new selection criteria in the Western world 19; protection of rights of 188; rights of 4; securitization of 7, 93 immigrant selection system, hybrid 191 immigrant workers, and citizenship rights 69 immigration: mainlander 204, 217, 225–227; as a security issue 93–96; and social stability 259; three illegals of 91–93, 180 Immigration Act (1999, Taiwan) 207, 299, 300, 303, 311; and domestic violence victims 305
Index Immigration Arrangements for Non-local Graduates (IANG) 230 Immigration Bill (1971, Hong Kong) 238 Immigration Control Act (South Korea) 299 Immigration Control and Refugee Recognition Act (ICRRA) 257; revision of 258, 259, 260, 261, 266; revision of (2018) 268–270; revision of (2018) and citizenship 270–273 immigration economies 23; in East Asia 16 Immigration Law 135 immigration legislation, in Guangzhou 54–57 immigration movements 16, 18 immigration regimes 1, 10, 136; in China 70–73; in East Asia 3; East Asian 1; evolution of 2; Hong Kong’s 240–242; and illegal immigration 91; and national identity 7–9; theory on 5–6 immigration scheme, in Japan 4 Indochinese refugee crisis 160, 161 Indonesia 26, 27, 203, 208; as an emerging economy 21; marriage migrants and 201; MOU with Taiwan 29 industrialization phase 19; and the Four Asian Tigers 21 Intercultural City Vision 287, 289 interculturalism 285 internal Chinese migrants, and African traders 51–52 internal migration and immigration, in China 67, 68–70 international (refugee) migration, concerns about 2 International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights (ICCPR) 191 international immigrant districts 46 International Institute of Education and Culture 287–288 international law, and immigration-related discourses 5 international marriage 136 see also marriage migrants international migration 19; and cross border connections 19 international migration movements 17 international mobility 1, 2, 309 International Organization of Migration (IOM) 5 international refugee conventions, China and 6 international refugee law, impact on China’s refugee policy 171–172
323
international refugee protection norms, and the norm diffusion theory 158–160 international refugee protection regime, and China 156–158 intraregional migration/flows 16, 17; in East Asia 6, 23–24, 27; mobility 1, 2, 309; and political regulation of 27 irregular immigrants/immigration 22, 27, 28: to Japan 22; into the United States 25 Japan 2; citizenship policy in 17; foreigners living in 6; guest worker programme in 29, 33; as a homogeneous nation 277; immigration scheme in 4; industrialization of 22; irregular immigration to 22; labour immigrants in 10; labour shortages in 257; Lewis Turning Point in 22; and multiculturalism 278–282; multiculturalism 288; population of 257–258, 277; types of foreign labour to use 258–259 Japanese ethnic hegemony 8 Japanese immigrants (Nikkeijin) 277 Japanese Immigration Law 277 Japanese labour unions 259 Japanese multiculturalism policies 277 Japanese national identity 8 job seeker’s ratio, Japan 258, 265 Joppke, Christian 297 jus sanguinis 298, 302, 306 Kang Wook-Joong 310–311 Korea 2; Act on the Employment. 300; discriminatory treatment of immigrants in 296; dual citizenship/nationality 297, 303, 309–310; economic development of 299–300; exclusivity of nationality in 297; First Basic Plan on Immigration Policy 300; government branch and nationality debate 303–309; hierarchical nationhood in 301; and immigrant rights 297; male military conscription in 309– 310; and marriage migrants 300, 303, 305; Multicultural Families Support Act 300; North–South relations and citizenship rights 301; overseas diaspora engagement policy 309; signing of the Global Compact for Safe, Orderly and Regular Migration 295; signing of the Global Compact on Refugees 295; trainee programme in 300; and voting rights to resident immigrants 297
324
Index
Korean–Chinese women, as marriage migrants 300 Korean construction workers, and the Gulf region 20 Korean diaspora 301, 309 Korean immigration system, and stratification of citizenship 295 Korean mothers, and children’s nationality 306 Korean National Assembly, and nationality debate 303–306 Kwun Tong (Kowloon) 240 Labour Contract Law, and foreign employees 189 labour immigration/immigrants 3, 7, 17, 22; in Japan 10 labour markets, and immigrants 2 labour migration 16–17, 135 labour migration management 27 labour migration reforms 10 labour rights, of immigrants in China 188–190 labour shortages: in China 69; in Japan 257, 265 labour unions, Japanese 259 Lan Shanshan 46–47 Law on the Management of Exit and Entry (South Korea) 299 League of Nations 156 legal grey zones 4 Levitt, Peggy 67 Lewis Turning Point 22 Li Congyu 170 Li Zhigang 46 local communities, and immigrants 2 localized citizenship regimes 10 local migration industries 20 long-term residency visa 257 low-skilled foreigners: immigration of 4; in Japan 4 see also low-skilled labour immigration low-skilled labourer visa categories 258 low-skilled labour immigration 7; in Japan after 1989 259–265 mainlander immigrants/immigration 8, 225–227, 234; the British and 238–240; to Hong Kong 237–240 Malaysia: and immigration controls 28; as a migration destination 22–23, 24; South Asian immigrants to 19 male military conscription 309–310; and dual citizenship/nationality 309–310
Manila Process 27 Mao Zedong 68 Marcos, Ferdinand 203 marriage migrants/migration 136, 303, 305; in Korea 300 marriage squeeze 202 Massey, Douglas S. 21 Mexico 25 Meyer-Clement, Elena 6, 10 Middle East diplomacy, China’s 170 migrant spouses, in Taiwan 215–216 migration: commercialization of 27; governing 82–83; governing by China 82; nation-states and 1; unregulated 5 migration destinations, in East Asia 22 migration flows, between China and Russia 120–124 migration governance 44; between China and Russia 119–125; and Taiwan 204–207 migration legislation, in Taiwan 213–216 migration management 2 migration movements, international 17 migration state 198; Japan as 4; Taiwan as 199–201 migration transition 25; European 25 migration traps 33 Military Manpower Administration 310 Ministry of Immigration 135 Ministry of Justice (Korea), and nationality guidelines 307–309 Mixed-blood (hunxue) children 141 Mondwurf, Chaline 6, 8 Multicultural Families Support Act (South Korea) 300 multiculturalism: and Brazilian disaspora in Japan 285; and ethnic-Korean returnees 4; and Hamamatsu City 282–285; in Japan 277, 278–282, 288 multiple-entry visas, vs single-entry visas 205 Muslim migrants 52 mutual psychological security 50 Myanmar 2, 100; asylum seekers from 162 National Assembly of the Republic of Korea 295 national humiliation 136 national identity: and immigration regimes 7–9; Japanese 8; politics of 8; in South Korea 8 Nationality Act 295, 296, 299, 300, 304; features of 301–303 nationality debate, themes addressed by bills in Korea 304
Index nationality discourse: in Korea 303–309; and Korean government 303–309 nationality guidelines, in Korea 307–309 Nationals without Household Registration in the Taiwan Area 205 National Unification Guidelines see Guidelines, the naturalization 305; cases in the Constitutional Court of Korea 307; statistics for Korea 308; statistics on loss of in Korea 309 New-Type Urbanization 69 New World, East Asian migration to 19–20 Nikkeijin 277, 278 non- and ethnic-Korean foreigners 8 norm diffusion 5–6, 115–117, 118, 119; definition of 158; examples of 125–129; norm diffusion theory 155, 156; and international refugee protection norms 158–160 North America and Oceania, immigration flows from East Asia to 19 Northeast Asia, demographic ageing 30 Northeast Asian immigration economies, and restrictive immigration policy 28–29 Northeast Asian migration regime 28 North Korea, asylum seekers from 162 One-Way Permit policy 228, 229, 234, 240 Other, the: dangerous 7, social 94 Othering processes 95 Overseas Chinese/Certificate 71, 97, 138, 201; returned 165, 182, 199; in Taiwan 205–206, 217 Park Chung Hee 299 Pearl River Delta (PRD) 43 Pedroza, Luicy 8, 10 People’s Republic of China see China Peruvian–Japanese communities 257 Philippines 27; emigration trap 25; emigration trap and 25–26 Plümmer, Franziska 7, 10 point-based immigration systems 10, 192; in China 6 political asylum, in China 126 Ponkratova, L. 120 population, upgrading, with immigrants 80–82 Population Policy Guidelines 207 population quality 140; and eugenic foundations of 140
325
population question, in China 140–144 population security, and illegal immigration in China 96–102 post-Tiananmen era 140 PRC see China PRC Labour Contract Law (2012) 188 PRC Labour Dispute Mediation and Arbitration Law (2007) 188 PRC Labour Law (2009) 188 public security 10, 91, 99, 164 Public Security Bureau 51, 98 Quality Migrant Admission Scheme (QMAS) 230 racism, against Chinese men and foreign wives 147–148 Refugee Convention, the 156; Refugee Convention and the Protocol, China and 161, 171 refugee crisis, and China’s Middle East diplomacy 170 refugee policy: China’s 155–156; China’s in the 1990s and 2010s 160–166; international norms on China’s 160 refugee protection norms: in China 166–170; China’s challenge to 170–171 refugees 155; protection of 156 regional security, illegal immigrants as a threat to 102–107 religious extremism 3 residence permit 59, 102, 181, 183–184, temporary 137; permanent 184–185 restrictive immigration regulation 27, 33 Rights of Abode controversy 240–241 Risse, Thomas 158 rural-to-urban migrants, Chinese 61, 67 Russia, migration cooperation with China 115–117 Russian and Ukrainian women (in China), citizenship and 9 Russian immigration: first wave into China 126; second wave into China 126; third wave into China 126 Russian South Hostel 126 Russian speaking women 136 Russian wives/women: as Chinese wives 9, 10, 136, 137; status of 144–147 sanfei (three illegals) 7, 57, 73, 91–92, 96, 99–102, 180; securitization of 101–102, 107, 108 see also illegal immigration, illegal immigrants Schein, Louise 140
326
Index
Schiller, Nina Glick 45 Schubert, Gunter 7–8, 10 second-class citizens 52, 94, 241 selectivity-oriented citizenship legislation, in Taiwan 215–216 Sham Shui Po (Kowloon) 240 Shanghai 75–76; upgrading population of 77–79 Shanghai Cooperation Organization (SCO) 7, 103–107 Shanghai Municipal Bureau of Statistics 74 Shanghai Municipal Government 77 shiminhua (citizenization) 70 Shinzō Abe 258 Sikkink, Kathryn 158 Singapore, South Asian immigrants to 19 Sino-African relations 62 Sino-Russian border: migration 115–117; norms and 117–119; regions 6 Sino-Russian migration governance 117 Sino-Russian relations 120; history of 125; split of 126 Sino-Vietnamese relations 161 Soboleva, Elena 6, 7 South Asian emigration, into Malaysia 19 Southeast Asia, low-skilled workers from 4 Southern and Southeast Asia 17 South Korea 2; acquisition of and loss of nationality in 302; citizenship policy in 17; foreign trainee programme in 29; industrialization phase in 22; low-skilled workers in 4; multiculturalism in 8; national identity in 8 South Korean, and ethnic nationalism 10 South Korean Constitution 301 South Manchurian Railway (SMR) 126 South–South racialization 46 Special Administrative Region 8 Spiro, Peter J. 297 Standing Committee of China’s National People’s Congress 240–241 State Immigration Administration (SIA, China) 3, 7, 61–62, 92, 96, 164, 190 Strausz, Michael 8, 10 subnational immigration systems 1 Supplementary Labour Scheme (SLS) 231 systematic immigration 11 Taiwan: Additional Articles of the Constitution of 204; as anti-communist bastion 199–201, 216; citizenship policy
in 17; during the Cold War 199–201, 216; as an emerging migration state 201–204; Employment Services Act (1992) 207; Foreign Professionals Act (2017) 207; foreign workers in 207; guest worker programme in 29; household registration and 5; human rights norms and 5; Immigration Act (199) 207; immigration legislation 7; industrialization phase in 22; migration governance and 198–199; transition to a migration state 199–201, 207 Taiwanese citizenship regime 5 Technology Talent Admission Scheme (TechTAS) 231 Thailand 2; and immigration controls 28; as a migration destination 22–23, 24; South Asian immigrants to 19 Third Wave of Democratization 203 Tiger Economies 203 total fertility rate (TFR) 23–24 Touch Base Policy 240 Toyota International Association (TIA) 285 trading-cum-garrison state 198 Trainee and Technical Internship Program 258, 265 trainee visa 10, 257 transnational households 136 transnational mobility, regulation of 1 transnational urban spaces 49–50 Trans-Siberian Railway 126 Treaty of Kyakhta 126 Treaty of Nerchinsk 125 Tuen Mun (New Territories) 240 UN High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) 232 United Nations Global Compact of Migration see Global Compact of Migration United States: and irregular crossings 25; and irregular immigration 25 unregulated migration 5, 94 unwanted immigrants, stigmatization of 3, 7, 91–92, 97 urban diaspora 9, 43 Ussuriisky Island/Heixiazi Dao 120 visa-free regime, and Russia-China 126 visa regulations, institutionalization of 1 Wang Xiang 10 WeChat groups 136, 137, 144
Index White woman’s body 140 Wong, Stan Hok-Wui 5 work permits: issued in China 72; in Taiwan 207 work permit system 191–192 work visa (Z-visa) 181–183 World Trade Organization, China’s membership in 43 WTO 160
327
Xi Jinping 7; administration of 69 Yamaguchi Heart International Clinic 288 Yangtze River Delta 68, 74 Yiwu 74–75, 79–80 Yomiuri Shimbun 261 Yuen Long (New Territories) 240 Yuexiu district 52