When Paola Egonu, born in Italy to Nigerian parents, won a gold medal at the 2024 Paris Olympic games volleyball tournament, a dormant discussion in Italian politics was reignited. Egonu only [became an Italian citizen at the age of 14], after her father naturalised as Italian. Now a national hero, many felt her story should have been different and that the pathway to Italian citizenship should be made easier for the children of immigrants.
After her win, a mural depicting Egonu performing her signature strike appeared outside the office of the Italian Olympic Committee. The artist gave it the title “Italianness”. Within 24 hours someone had painted over Paola’s skin with pink paint, leaving the title untouched. Such racist abuse hides a much harder question Italians have been grappling with for three decades: what makes someone Italian?
This is not the first time a sports event has forced Italians to confront Italy’s inadequate citizenship law. When, in 2020, 14-year-old Great Nnachi made the highest ever pole-vaulting jump in the under-16 female category in Italy, her record could not be registered. She was one of the nearly 800,000 children who were born in Italy, but who are not Italian citizens. The law requires them to wait until they are 18.
Italy is, historically, a country of emigration. Until the 1990s, there were more people leaving than coming in. This is why Italian citizenship follows a descent-oriented model that eludes national borders. Even those born abroad are recognised as Italian as long as they have an Italian ancestor.
Citizenship is therefore inherited through lineage, via the principle of ius sanguinis (right of blood). In contrast, place of birth and residence alone are almost irrelevant, hence why Egonu and so many others, despite being born in Italy, have to make applications for citizenship rather than simply being granted it at birth.
In reaction to Egonu’s mural being defaced, Antonio Tajani, minister for foreign affairs, expressed support for a more inclusive citizenship law and for Egonu, saying: “Courage Paola, you are our pride..” Yet, his coalition partner Matteo Salvini pushed back, saying: “There is a law, it works, let’s deal with something else.”
The prime minister, Giorgia Meloni, has not yet weighed in. However, in 2018, the last time a reform proposal made it as far as debate in parliament, Meloni collected enough signatures to secure a referendum to repeal the reform if it passed, which it did not.
The public backs reform
There have been numerous attempts to introduce some form of birthright citizenship (ius soli, right of soil) in Italy but none have been successful. Strong opposition from the right and tepid support from the left have left each attempt floundering.
The assumption among those right-wing politicians who have blocked reform has been that the Italian public does not want to change the law. But in 2021 I conducted a study in which my co-author and I asked 1,500 people to indicate to whom, out of different hypothetical children’s profiles, they would favour granting Italian citizenship.
We showed each respondent ten profiles of children born in Italy whose parents were immigrants and who differed from each other on 11 attributes, such as their country of origin, employment status, and what team they support at the Olympics. We then asked respondents to indicate for each profile if they were in favour or against granting citizenship to the child. This design allows us to discern what exactly drives support or opposition to a potential reform.
We found that the public is mostly in favour of granting citizenship to the children of immigrants who were born in Italy, albeit under certain conditions. Only 10% were against any kind of birthright citizenship. Most Italians are more supportive of birthright citizenship for children, if their immigrant parents are in employment, have a residence permit and have lived in Italy for more than five years.
Italians attach much more importance to these criteria than others such as ethnicity and command of the Italian language. Although right-wing voters were less likely to grant citizenship compared to leftwing voters, the majority of them did so, as long as the children’s parents had lived in the country for five years and had permanent residency.
Our study, then, suggests that there is an electoral basis for reform.
Doing so would make a meaningful difference to the everyday lives of hundreds of thousands of children. All children in Italy have access to emergency healthcare and education, but their parents have to be legal residents for them to have full healthcare access, for example. Non-citizens can also be removed from the country, unlike citizens.
Other important rights associated with citizenship are the right of free movement within the European Union, of protection by the state in foreign countries and of representing the country in sports competitions.
Most importantly though, these children identify as Italian, but do not feel recognised as such. Citizenship to them represents the consolidation and recognition of their Italian identity.
Research is also clear on the wider benefits of granting citizenship to children. When granted citizenship, children do better at school and their parents integrate more easily.
Germany, Portugal, Belgium, Ireland and the UK have adopted conditional ius soli legislation of various kinds. France and Greece have done so in more limited ways, while in other countries, such as Sweden, there are pathways to citizenship for the children of immigrants at a very early age.
Italy should recognise that it is a country of immigrants and that its success, in sports and elsewhere, will be determined by whether it can successfully reimagine what it means to be a citizen.
Victoria Donnaloja receives funding from the Leverhulme Trust.
This article was originally published on The Conversation. Read the original article.
