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Part I - Legal Contradictions and Tensions in Local Migration Governance

Published online by Cambridge University Press:  15 September 2022

Moritz Baumgärtel
Affiliation:
Universiteit Utrecht, The Netherlands
Sara Miellet
Affiliation:
Universiteit Utrecht, The Netherlands

Summary

Type
Chapter
Information
Publisher: Cambridge University Press
Print publication year: 2022
Creative Commons
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This content is Open Access and distributed under the terms of the Creative Commons Attribution licence CC-BY-NC 4.0 https://creativecommons.org/cclicenses/

2 Crimmigration and Crossover Youth The Deportation of Former Wards of the State

Benjamin Perryman Footnote *
1 Introduction

‘The most fundamental principle of [Canadian] immigration law is that non-citizens do not have an unqualified right to enter or remain in the country’.Footnote 1 Based on this principle, Canada, like many states, attaches immigration consequences to non-citizens who are convicted of criminal offences.Footnote 2 Deportation regularly follows criminal conduct. Citizenship, in this ‘crimmigration’ context, is formalistic and defined by the federal government, which has exclusive constitutional responsibility over naturalization and aliens.Footnote 3 Conventionally, it is the state, and the state alone, that determines when a non-citizen can be deported on account of criminality.

A growing migration studies literature challenges this conventional account and posits that migration governance is multi-scalar, even in the context of deportation. This literature reveals a ‘multilayered jurisdictional patchwork’ that involves processes and actors at the substate, national, and international scales.Footnote 4 In order to understand how deportation is truly governed, this literature contends, one must appreciate the role that each of these scales plays, or as Resnik more bluntly observes, there is a ‘uselessness of using any single nation-state as the unit of analysis when thinking about the migration of people, law, or objects’.Footnote 5

A multi-scalar account of deportation practices, however, does not determine the valence or contribution of a particular scale. Substate actors, such as local law enforcement, may contribute to deportation processes by criminalizing racialized migrants via traffic stops, other mundane offences, and local ordinances.Footnote 6 Conversely, some cities across the globe, in very different national contexts, employ local-level policies with the common intention of providing ‘sanctuary’ or ‘refuge’ to migrants without status.Footnote 7 Even within a single state, there can be significant site specificity despite the fact that local or other substate officials are implementing a common federal immigration policy.Footnote 8 As a result, the specific impact of multi-scalar migration governance must be evaluated on a case-by-case basis.

What multi-scalar accounts of deportation practices reveal is that rescaling of migration governance can create opportunities for subnational forms of citizenship. For example, where local and state-level governments provide voting rights, protections against deportation, access to identification, and accessible education, migrants without formal citizenship may gain ‘membership via the mere fact of presence and residence in a city or state, in spite of the powerful boundaries still surrounding formal membership in the nation-state’.Footnote 9 This type of ‘local citizenship’ challenges the normative foundation of citizenship as exclusively within the purview of the state.Footnote 10 It does so by creating a form of ‘social legality’ that operates independently of formal legal status and produces a more complex meaning of citizenship.Footnote 11

Beyond contributing to what citizenship means, social legality and presence-based forms of citizenship also engender multidimensional politics when states seek to include or exclude certain migrants.Footnote 12 Local protest over the morality and human cost of deportation, in specific cases, can alter how federal immigration officials implement deportation policies.Footnote 13 Scaled up, the politics of belonging can even lead to legal and policy changes at the level of the state, for example, the attempt at formal recognition for undocumented migrants who arrived in the United States of America as children.Footnote 14 Accordingly, the multi-scalar migration governance literature also provides a constructivist account of the social and political forces that can shape the creation, interpretation, and application of immigration law.

This chapter applies a multi-scalar account of deportation practices to a specific scenario in Canada: former crossover youth facing deportation as adults. Crossover youth are minors who grow up in the child welfare system and ‘crossover’ to the youth criminal justice system.Footnote 15 Where crossover youth are non-citizens, a finding of guilt within the youth criminal justice system may prevent them from becoming a Canadian citizen.Footnote 16 Such youth cannot be deported because youth sentences are exempted from ‘crimmigration’ consequences.Footnote 17

‘Crimmigration’ consequences result from the intersection between criminal law and immigration law. While criminal courts in Canada do not sentence non-citizens to expulsion, a criminal conviction can lead to a loss of immigration status and deportation, often with minimal consideration of the actual circumstances of the criminal offence. In this sense, the immigration law implications are related to the criminal law and follow directly from the criminal offence even if they are not technically a criminal punishment.

As non-citizens, crossover youth are vulnerable to ‘crimmigration’ consequences, including deportation, if they are convicted of further offences as young adults. Canadian immigration legislation deems adult offenders ‘inadmissible’ and assigns deportation consequences based on the maximum sentence possible not the actual circumstances of the offence.Footnote 18

Research on crossover youth shows that their recidivism rates are higher than other youth and often linked to personal characteristics associated with involvement in the child welfare system.Footnote 19 Race is also a factor that mediates placement, experience, and outcomes within the child welfare system.Footnote 20 This means that migrant youth are exposed to a non-trivial risk of deportation when placed in the Canadian child welfare system. As a result, non-citizen crossover youth are disadvantaged in two ways. First, they are more likely to become involved with the criminal justice system than children who are raised by their families. Second, they face more severe consequences for their actions than children who are citizens because they can be deported if their criminal involvement continues into young adulthood.

Building on the concept of ‘emplacement’, developed by Çağlar and Glick Schiller,Footnote 21 this chapter argues that the apprehension of migrant children by the Canadian child welfare system deprives some children of the right to have rights. This deprivation is caused by the mutually reinforcing failures of local- and state-level institutions to properly protect migrant children in the child welfare system, including from the state’s own threat of deportation. At the same time, the placement of crossover youth in local institutions enables a politics of resistance to deportation in the context of ‘crimmigration’.

The politics of resistance has relational and legal dimensions, which are both informed by a multi-scalar account of deportation practices. Section 2 shows how placement of migrant children in cities and local child welfare systems creates relational obligations of care that demand a redefining of citizenship. Wards of the state are of the state. In other words, when the state exercises its coercive power to apprehend a migrant child because they are in the state’s jurisdiction and in need of protection, the state assumes the role of parent, providing opportunities (and erecting barriers) to that child’s development, and through this process, accepting that child as a member of the state, even if that child is a non-citizen. This creates a ‘social legality’ of belonging. Section 3 explains how ‘social legality’ can transform into ‘formal legality’ via administrative, equitable, and constitutional legal reasoning. An administrative legal regime that grants discretionary power not to deport in compelling circumstances may need to account for the abysmal treatment of migrant children in care. The apprehension of migrant children by the child welfare system may also create fiduciary obligations – owed by the state to wards in its care – that if breached require an equitable remedy that puts former wards in as good a position as they would have been if there was breach of the duty. Government action, at the local and state levels, including a failure to act, may also violate the constitutional rights of migrant children in care. Laws that make it harder for certain groups of children to obtain citizenship, a child welfare system that systematically produces worse outcomes for certain groups, and deportation processes that ignore the experience of former crossover youth may constitute arbitrary and discriminatory disadvantage. To the extent that former crossover youth were denied the equal protection of law, they may be entitled to a constitutional remedy to confer citizenship or prohibit deportation.

The main claim of this chapter is that a multi-scalar analysis of deportation practices can shape legal argument and obligation. This is important because the migration studies literature is often framed in social, political, and moral terms that call for changes to policies for the benefit of migrants rather than in legal terms that demand application of existing principles to migrants. Using a detailed analysis of the interconnection between subnational child protection services and federal deportation practices, the chapter challenges the traditional lens of analysis that primarily conceives of deportation as implicating only the role of the federal government. The chapter shows that the placement of non-citizen children in the child protection system demands a reconceptualization of citizenship that transforms notions of social legality into formal legality.

2 Emplacement and the Redefining of Citizenship

When children migrate to Canada, as immigrants or refugees, they arrive not just in a new country but in new legal, political, and social spaces. The multi-scalar migration governance literature, discussed earlier, demonstrates that the nature of those spaces can be local, nation-state, or international, depending on the specific jurisdictional context. Çağlar and Glick SchillerFootnote 22 conceptualize engagement within these different spaces as ‘emplacement’. They define ‘emplacement’ as:

the relationship between, on the one hand, the continuing restructuring of place within multi-scalar networks of power and, on the other, a person’s efforts, within the barriers and opportunities that contingencies of local place-making offer, to build a life within networks of local, national, supranational, and global interconnections.Footnote 23

This definition recognizes that migrants are not simply governed by state and non-state institutions but also engage with those institutions at different levels. The act of leaving, arriving, and existing in these different spaces is thus relational, and these relations are shaped by a panoply of actors, legal regimes, and political processes that operate in a particular space.

For a migrant child apprehended by the child welfare system, the spaces and institutions of most apparent salience are substate, particularly provincial or municipal agencies responsible for child protection. As this section explains, migrants arrive disproportionately in Canadian cities. There, they engage with opportunities and barriers provided by substate institutions, especially in the context of service delivery. One of those services is child protection, which in Canada is implemented by provincial or municipal agencies. For migrant children in care, it is these agencies that shape the opportunities and barriers that influence their lives most immediately. The federal government still governs the acquisition of formal citizenship, but this space and reality is a distant horizon for migrant children in care as well as many social workers who are responsible for securing these children’s best interests.

The importance of federal responsibility for citizenship becomes more immediate and ominous when migrant children in care become involved in the youth criminal justice system. Such crossover youth may be prohibited from becoming Canadian citizens and gaining the full panoply of rights associated with citizenship, including the right not to be deported.Footnote 24 While many thought or assumed they were Canadian – an understandable assumption for a young adult who has grown up entirely in the care and control of the state – apprehension by the child welfare system does not confer formal citizenship status. This makes former crossover youth vulnerable to ‘crimmigration’ consequences if they are convicted of crimes as young adults.

Far from being a fictitious scenario, this section highlights two recent case studies where a former crossover youth faced deportation from Canada on account of criminality. What is noteworthy about these cases is that they raised public dialogue on the meaning of citizenship and resulted in public calls for the redefinition of citizenship in the face of potential deportation.

2.1 Cities as Sites of Migration and Apprehension

In Canada, between 2011 and 2016, fully two-thirds of all immigration was to the five most populated cities and nine out of ten migrants relocated to an urban centre.Footnote 25 This is not a uniquely Canadian phenomenon. Globally, migration to cities is ‘a constitutive element of modernity’.Footnote 26 This can place cities in tension with state authorities. Cities that attempt to integrate irregular migrants or prevent the removal of non-citizens ‘take a direct policy stance against national immigration and citizenship policies’.Footnote 27

Under Canada’s federal constitutional order, only the federal government and provincial governments have authority to regulate in their respective jurisdictional areas. Cities ‘are creatures of [provincial] statute and can only act within the powers conferred on them by the provincial legislature’.Footnote 28 Formally, they have no legal authority over immigration. However, practically, cities and other substate actors play a crucial role in the integration of migrants.Footnote 29 For example, the federal government may fund city libraries or non-profit organizations to deliver language classes and other integration services to migrants even though regulation of city libraries and non-profit organizations are not federal responsibilities.

Given the services many major Canadian cities are responsible for regulating and administering, either directly or by delegation from provincial or federal governments, it is unsurprising that cities are key actors in integrating migrants. Though constitutional authority for civil and political rights is vested at the provincial level, in practice, major municipalities are responsible for public education, welfare provision, social housing, policing, and child protection. Each of these services comes with a unique legal regulatory regime as well as governmental and non-governmental employees who interpret and apply that regime. For many migrants, these are the government officers who matter the most – far more than any official in the federal immigration department.

Child protection falls under provincial jurisdiction in Canada, and in each province, there is a department or ministry that is responsible for child protection legislation and service delivery. In some provinces, service delivery is delegated to children’s aid societies, which are agencies mandated by provincial law to deliver child protection services in a specified territorial jurisdiction. In practice, this means that there is often a children’s aid society for a given city, for example the ‘Children’s Aid Society of Toronto’. Such societies develop local policies and deliver child protection services in their respective city. In cities where there is a sizeable population of non-citizen children in care, those policies may relate to the unique immigration and citizenship needs of non-citizen children. In other provinces, these frontline child protection services are delivered by provincial employees, often without any tailoring of the services to the unique needs of non-citizen children. Other than providing some funding for children who are refugee claimants or government-assisted refugees (and Indigenous children), the federal government is not responsible for child protection. The federal government does, however, retain jurisdiction over the naturalization and citizenship of children in care, but the initiation of such processes is left to provincial child protection authorities or their children’s aid society delegates.

If emplacement entails migrants navigating networks of power to overcome barriers and make the most of opportunities, municipal service delivery becomes one site where multi-scalar migration governance takes shape. Migrants, like all people, have economic and social needs that involve engaging with state service delivery regimes. How these regimes treat migrants or specific classes of migrants influences the extent to which this multi-scalar governance acts as a barrier or opportunity. This is especially the case for municipal child welfare agencies that are responsible for apprehending children in need of protection.

Until recently, many child welfare agencies made little to no effort to secure Canadian citizenship for wards in their care, it was simply ‘not something that has been required to be monitored’ as part of standard best practices.Footnote 30 Worse, research shows that migrant children in care regularly assume that their child welfare worker is taking care of their most pressing needs, including the acquisition of citizenship, but these assumptions are often misplaced.Footnote 31

The reasons for this type of systemic failure are contested. At best, it is the result of child welfare workers who do not have an adequate understanding of the unique needs of migrant children or the resources to respond to those needs.Footnote 32 Others point to a more pernicious explanation that situates the apprehension, inadequate care, and potential displacement of migrant youth within Canada’s historic and ongoing race relations.Footnote 33

Anti-Black racism is part of Canada.Footnote 34 So is xenophobia.Footnote 35 At the nation-state level, Canada has a long history of immigration policies designed to exclude non-White migrants, either explicitly or substantively.Footnote 36 This racism has significant implications for the treatment of migrant children in the child welfare system.

While there is no formal discrimination in child protection in Canada, recent studies show stark disparities based on race. In Toronto, for example, when a report is made to children’s services, Black families are twice as likely to be investigated and Black children are more likely to be apprehended. Poverty, not abuse, is the strongest predictor of placement in care. Once in care, Black children are more likely to be adopted or ‘age out’ of care, whereas White children are more likely to be reunited with their families. All in all, on a population basis, Black children are overrepresented in care by a factor of five times.Footnote 37

These racial dynamics do not mean that non-White migrant children are per se targeted by child protection services. It does, however, suggest that there is an intersectionality between immigration status and race that may affect emplacement for some migrants. Indeed, studies of separated refugee children show that they are subject to both anti-refugee and anti-youth discourses.Footnote 38 To the extent that Blackness intersects with non-citizenship, this disproportionate treatment of Black children and families has led some scholars to argue that the child welfare system is complicit in facilitating a ‘pipeline that first normalizes the separation of largely racialized, poor, and/or immigrant families and then reframes foster children as threats to the social order requiring their incarceration and expulsion’.Footnote 39

Even if we do not accept that Canada is consciously complicit in an apprehension to deportation pipeline, the emplacement of migrant children in the child welfare system functions as a barrier to their full integration in Canadian society, particularly with respect to gaining Canadian citizenship and all the inherent rights that such status entails. This makes former crossover youth vulnerable to deportation if they engage in criminal activity as young adults. At the same time, the emplacement of migrant children in poor systems of care may also challenge our conception of citizenship where former wards of the state face deportation because the state, as parent, failed to obtain citizenship on their behalf.

2.2 Redefining Citizenship in Response to Former Crossover Youth

The importance of cities in multi-scalar migration governance, including in the context of former crossover youth, has implications for how citizenship is defined. Globalization has changed the social fabric of cities.Footnote 40 Transnational mobility, transnational migrant networks, neoliberal restructuring of states that deemphasizes public authority, and securitization of borders are factors related to changing cities that affect the national characteristic of citizenship.Footnote 41 Through these changing dynamics of cities and their place within the world, citizenship is being:

(1) rescaled – the hegemony of the national-scale political community is being weakened by the formation of communities at other scales; (2) reterritorialized – the link between the nation-state’s territorial sovereignty and citizens’ political loyalties are being challenged; and (3) reoriented – away from the nation as the predominant political community.Footnote 42

The rescaling, reterritorialization, and reorientation alter the role cities play in conceptualizing citizenship and belonging.

The implications of these changes are unsettled. Some scholars draw a connection between residence in cities and conceptions of ‘local citizenship’ that confer entitlement to services and possibly protection from deportation.Footnote 43 Others suggest that belonging within cities requires the development of non-legal roadmaps to establish the temporal meaning of community and to situate migration within that meaning.Footnote 44

These iterations of local citizenship propose alternative normative foundations of citizenship. In its most extreme form, local citizenship ‘proposes an ideal in which citizenship is no longer bound to an a priori political community but is based on the mere reality of presence and residence in a place’.Footnote 45 This is not unlike conceptions of nation-state citizenship that require nothing more than birth in a country, it is just that the scale of place is different, shifting from the nation-state to the city. Relationally focused conceptions of local citizenship require something more. The concept of emplacement developed by Çağlar and Glick Schiller is capable of constituting that something more.Footnote 46 Emplacement recognizes that a migrant’s engagement with local barriers and opportunities creates relations between that person and local networks. These relations then transform what it means to be a citizen and what it means to belong.

Just as the evolving approach to nationality at international law has not displaced the state, developing concepts of local citizenship also do not displace the state. ‘The real significance of urban citizenship for cosmopolitan democracy is not that it would provide an alternative basis to territorial federation, but that it could transform national identities and nationalist ideologies from below and from within’.Footnote 47

The pathway through which this transformation takes place is relational. Citizenship is constituted through performative acts and social processes at the municipal level.Footnote 48 This does not have to be limited to engagement through service provision, but service interactions will undoubtedly form part of this constitutive process, whether viewed as barriers or opportunities within the concept of emplacement.

What municipal citizenship also enables is space for migrants to more readily become political actors.Footnote 49 This does not alleviate tensions between residents and newcomers. What it does, however, is bring to the forefront the question of ‘who is an established resident, legitimate local actor, or who is acceptable as a new resident and, thus, who has the right to local sociopolitical, cultural, and economic space and who does not’.Footnote 50 Confrontation and consensus around this question need not exclude traditional nation-state conceptions of belonging, but it will not be limited to those formal definitions of citizenship.

In this context, migrant children who are apprehended by child welfare systems can make claims to both placed-based and relationally based citizenship. When children are apprehended by local child protection services, they are placed in care. For crossover youth, this often means residential care in group homes or other state-run institutions with concomitant poor outcomes on important determinates of development such as education, health, employment, and criminal involvement.Footnote 51 The opportunities and barriers of these ‘care’ placements inevitably shape who migrant youth become. Relationally, migrant children who become wards of the state are legally of the state. The state stands in loco parentis (in the place of a parent) especially for apprehended children who are not placed in foster care or adopted. Thus, the act of apprehension becomes a relationship of both responsibility and control.

One important site of responsibility and control is applications for citizenship, which until 2017 could not be made directly by minors.Footnote 52 Even today, the practice of applying for citizenship as a minor requires a guardian or the provision of additional information by the child.Footnote 53 As a result, responsibility and control of citizenship applications for migrant children in care continues until those children ‘age out’ of the child welfare system as young adults.

It is at this point of aging out where former crossover youth are most vulnerable to ‘crimmigration’ consequences. Non-citizens who are convicted of crimes are inadmissible to Canada and subject to deportation.Footnote 54 This applies equally to former crossover youth who spent their entire childhood in care, even where child protection agencies failed to apply for citizenship on their behalf.

The recent cases of Abdoul Abdi and Abdilahi Elmi show that this vulnerability to deportation is not fictitious for former crossover youth. Both Mr Abdi and Mr Elmi came to Canada as child refugees fleeing persecution in Somalia. Both were apprehended by child protection services, in Nova Scotia and Ontario, respectively, who failed to apply for Canadian citizenship on their behalf.Footnote 55 In Mr Abdi’s case, his family attempted to apply for citizenship on his behalf, but child protection services ‘intervened on the basis that as a ward of the state only DCS [Department of Community Services] could apply for citizenship’.Footnote 56 Both faced a tumultuous childhood and became crossover youth.Footnote 57 In Mr Abdi’s case, he was transferred between thirty-one different placements between the ages of 6 and 18, many of which were group homes or other institutionalized settings.Footnote 58 Because they were non-citizens, both Mr Abdi and Mr Elmi became inadmissible and deportable when, as young adults, they were convicted of criminal offences.

What makes these case studies interesting, from the perspective of multi-scalar migration governance, is that neither Mr Abdi nor Mr Elmi was deported. Mr Abdi’s deportation order was overturned by the Federal Court on two occasions.Footnote 59 Mr Elmi’s deportation was temporarily halted by Canada following an interim measures request from the UN Human Rights Committee.Footnote 60

Central to both outcomes was advocacy that challenged the conventional account of citizenship as strictly within the purview of the nation-state. For example, Muscati and Macklin argued: ‘The issue is not whether Mr Abdi is a model member of the Canadian community and so ‘deserves’ to stay. What matters is that he is already a product and member of this society’.Footnote 61 Black Lives Matter – Toronto ensured that Canadians were aware of the federal government’s efforts to deport a former crossover youth to a country too dangerous for Canadian officials to visit.Footnote 62 These types of interventions recast the state at a different scale, highlighting not just the federal state’s role in effecting deportation but also the provincial state’s role in making migrant children in care precarious by preventing them from acquiring citizenship. This lack of status then became a ‘gateway to a range of traumatic vulnerabilities that are systemic in nature [and] … experienced disproportionality and specifically by poor and racialized people’.Footnote 63 At this scale, the ‘local citizenship’ of Mr Abdi and Mr Elmi mattered and challenged Canada’s assertion that citizenship at the level of the nation-state was determinative politically and morally.

In Mr Abdi’s case, the federal government decided not to pursue further deportation proceedings.Footnote 64 Mr Elmi’s case remains pending while the UN Human Rights Committee considers a complaint that his deportation would violate international law. Following Mr Abdi’s case, the federal government changed its policy manual that governs what factors immigration officials must consider before deciding whether to deport a long-term resident of Canada. The province of Nova Scotia implemented a new policy to ensure that the citizenship status of wards in its child welfare system was tracked and that there was an individualized plan for each to ensure that they gained status if needed. These changes are important insofar as they acknowledge that emplacement in the child welfare system may redefine citizenship in a manner that requires recognition, but like much of the multi-scalar migration governance literature, the changes are grounded more in political, social, and moral arguments than in legal arguments. This is something that is changing.

3 Courts and the Transformation of Social Legality to Formal Legality

At international law, no one can be arbitrarily deprived of the right to remain in their ‘own country’. What constitutes one’s ‘own country’ is determined based on residency and attachment to place not citizenship.Footnote 65 This has led the UN Human Rights Committee to develop a jurisprudence on the right to belong that focuses on a non-citizen’s sociological connection to the state where they reside and comparing that attachment to their sociological connection to the state of citizenship. Where relative attachment is stronger to the country of residence, removal may constitute an arbitrary deprivation and violation of international law.Footnote 66 However, one of the problems with this international human right is that it is not always respected by states, including Canada. Decisions of the UN Human Rights Committee are not technically binding on Canada and have been largely ignored.Footnote 67

If a redefined conception of citizenship premised on ‘social legality’ is to be accepted legally in Canada, it needs to find recognition in domestic law. There are three avenues for this recognition: (1) administrative discretion, (2) fiduciary duties, and (3) equality rights. None of these avenues has been expressly applied in the context of former crossover youth facing deportation from Canada. Each has strengths and weaknesses in this context. Crucial to recognition of all three avenues will be insights from the multi-scalar governance literature discussed in this chapter, particularly the concept of emplacement, that highlight the interconnections of different scales and the role they play in shaping the people and the circumstances that appear before courts.

3.1 The Administrative Discretion of Immigration Officials Not to Deport

Canadian immigration law is punitive. Penal populism creates the political conditions for Parliament to pass laws, such as the Faster Removal of Foreign Criminals Act, that make it easier to attach ‘crimmigration’ consequences to the criminal conduct of non-citizens.Footnote 68 The Supreme Court of Canada, for its part, has held that the objective of immigration legislation is to prioritize security over integration ‘by removing applicants with [criminal] records from Canada, and by emphasizing the obligation of permanent residents to behave lawfully while in Canada’.Footnote 69 This is part of the securitization of migration.Footnote 70

Nonetheless, immigration officials retain some discretion not to deport a long-term resident even where their criminality is well founded.Footnote 71 The scope of this discretion is unsettled but may be broader where the person concerned is a long-term resident.Footnote 72

In Mr Abdi’s case, his counsel urged the Federal Court to recognize a broad scope of discretion not to deport in circumstances where the person concerned was a former crossover youth for whom the state had failed to obtain citizenship. As Nath notes, the Court was presented with excruciating detail on the intensity of harm Mr Abdi experienced in care, as well as the experience of similarly situated individuals, but this was not the focal point of the Court’s decision:

The series of losses facing Abdoul [and presented to the Court] are incredibly violent – the loss of home, the loss of one’s state’s protection, or in Arendtian terms, the loss of belonging to any community. These losses are recognized minimally. In the state’s submission to the court, all Charter and international human rights arguments are described as ‘speculative and premature’, leading one commentator to write: ‘Our government argues that the rights of children are so irrelevant that they should not even be spoken about’. [citations omitted]Footnote 73

In response, the Court resolved the case based on the failure of immigration officials to even consider the arguments that were presented, but the Court did not provide guidance on how those arguments should have been treated if they were properly considered.Footnote 74

Following Abdi v. Canada (Public Safety and Emergency Preparedness), it may be possible to recognize an expanded scope of discretion not to deport in circumstances where the person concerned was failed as a child in care. This would require an explication of emplacement and a discussion of the different scales of failure that took place, especially substate policies that prevented non-citizen children in care from acquiring the protections of citizenship. A multi-scalar account of migration governance and deportation practices is helpful here because it reveals the causal pathway between the state’s apprehension of migrant children and the state’s deportation of those children who become former crossover youth. The strength of this avenue is the existing precedent that at least requires consideration by immigration officers of circumstances beyond the scale of the nation-state, including the provincial and city scales responsible for child protection. But the weakness of this avenue is the narrow jurisdictional scope of the Federal Court. In Canada’s federal system of government, provincial superior courts are responsible for the family law and criminal law dimensions of former crossover youth. The Federal Court is traditionally focused on immigration consequences and security rather than what might be decades of emplacement that preceded a discrete criminal conviction that prompted the ‘crimmigration’ consequences at issue. The multi-scalar account of deportation practices challenges this traditional focus by revealing the interconnections between child protection and deportation. This may demand an expanded focus when the Federal Court reviews exercises of administrative discretion by immigration officials.

3.2 The Fiduciary Duties Owed by Child Welfare Agencies to Wards of the State

If responding to the multi-scalar dimensions of former crossover youth is beyond the scope of the Federal Court, an alternative avenue for transforming social legality into formal legality is to look to courts that have jurisdiction to consider the broader, multi-scalar circumstances of a former crossover youth. One possible avenue is a claim for breach of fiduciary duties in a provincial superior court responsible for family law.

Under Canadian law, a fiduciary duty can arise in various relationships where ‘one party, the fiduciary, [must] act with absolute loyalty toward another party, the beneficiary … in managing the latter’s affairs’.Footnote 75 This duty arises from the power the fiduciary holds over the more vulnerable beneficiary and the potential misuse of that power to the detriment of the beneficiary. It protects the ‘integrity of the relationships’ not the rights of the parties.Footnote 76

Fiduciary relationships are characterized by ‘an undertaking of responsibility’ towards a ‘person or class of persons’ whose ‘legal or substantial practical interests’ are vulnerable to the fiduciary’s exercise of discretion.Footnote 77 They arise in social or economic interactions, deemed important by law, where the ‘high trust and confidence’ necessitated by the relationship creates ‘an implicit dependency and peculiar vulnerability of beneficiaries to their fiduciaries’.Footnote 78 Such relationships can be between private actors or between government and individuals or classes of individuals, though the general performance of government functions does not in itself create a fiduciary obligation.Footnote 79 Types of private fiduciary relationships include relationships between executor-beneficiary, lawyer-client, physician-patient, broker-investor, director-corporation, and parent-child. Types of public fiduciary relationships include the relationship between the Crown (as represented by government) and Indigenous peoples.Footnote 80

The fiduciary duty in the parent-child context arises from ‘obvious reasons’, according to the Supreme Court of Canada, that extend from the fact that ‘society has imposed upon parents the obligation to care for, protect and rear their children’.Footnote 81 It is this relationship of care that grounds the fiduciary obligation in the family law context.Footnote 82 Unlike other fiduciary duties, the parent–child duty does not require an undertaking of responsibility on the part of the parent.Footnote 83 As a result, a parent may be liable to their child for breach of their fiduciary duty if they do not act in the child’s best interests, for example, where they sexually abuse the child in their care, knowingly expose them to sexual abuse, or fail to intervene to prevent abuse when they knew or ought to have known that abuse was occurring.Footnote 84

When a child is apprehended by a child welfare agency, however, liability for breach of fiduciary duties becomes more complex. In Canada, constitutional responsibility for child protection rests with provincial governments who have a ‘transcendent statutory duty to promote the best interests, protection and well-being of the children in their care’.Footnote 85 But this does not necessarily mean that failure to adequately care for children who are wards of the state will constitute a breach of fiduciary duties.

In K.L.B. v. British Columbia, the Supreme Court of Canada held that the province did not owe fiduciary duties to state wards placed in abusive foster care settings, though the Court did find that the province could be vicariously liable for a failure to properly supervise such settings.Footnote 86 Following this reasoning, the Court held in a later case that there is no general fiduciary duty imposed on government actors responsible for children to secure their best interests:

The maxim that parents should act in their child’s best interests may help to justify particular parental fiduciary duties, but it does not constitute a [general] basis for liability. The cases on the parental fiduciary duty focus not on achieving what is in the child’s best interest, but on specific conduct that causes harm to children in a manner involving disloyalty, self-interest, or abuse of power — failing to act selflessly in the interests of the child. This approach is well grounded in policy and common sense. Parents may have limited resources and face many demands, rendering it unrealistic to expect them to act in each child’s best interests. Moreover, since it is often unclear what a child’s ‘best’ interests are, the idea does not provide a justiciable standard. Finally, the objective of promoting the best interests of the child, when stated in such general and absolute terms, overshoots the concerns that are central to fiduciary law. These are …: loyalty and ‘the avoidance of a conflict of duty and interest and a duty not to profit at the expense of the beneficiary’.Footnote 87

The absence of a general fiduciary duty, however, does not prohibit liability for specific conduct that causes harm where the beneficiary is a defined person or class of persons who is under the requisite degree of control needed to establish a fiduciary relationship.

Under the guise of such specific circumstances, several class action proceedings have been initiated against provinces for systemic failure that caused harm to children in care. In Papassay v. The Queen (Ontario), the Court refused to summarily dismiss a class action brought by former children in care who alleged that the province had breached its fiduciary duty to them in failing to seek compensation on their behalf for ‘physical or sexual abuse before and/or during their Crown wardships’.Footnote 88 This failure to secure the wards’ legal interests was considered a potential breach of the fiduciary duty owed by guardians to children in their care.Footnote 89 In T.L. v. British Columbia (Children and Family Development), the Court approved a class action settlement between former children in care and the province resulting from a guardianship social worker’s breach of fiduciary duties.Footnote 90 The parties agreed that the social worker had harmed children in his care by neglecting them, misappropriating their funds, and failing to plan for their welfare, and that the province was vicariously liable for this harm.Footnote 91 In the specific context of migrant children in care, a class action has also been commenced against a province alleging, amongst other things, that the failure to apply for citizenship for wards of the state is a breach of fiduciary duties and that the province knew or ought to have known that the failure secure citizenship for migrant children in care would cause them immediate- and long-term harm.Footnote 92 The multi-scalar governance literature is likely to play a role in explicating these harms should this case advance to trial. By showing the connection between the child protection system’s failure to acquire citizenship for non-citizen children in care and the subsequent risk of deportation of those children as former crossover youth, the multi-scalar governance literature can qualify harm caused by state failure of non-citizen children in care.

The strength of the fiduciary avenue for transforming social legality into formal legality is that it transforms emplacement into obligation not discretion. Fiduciary duties are premised on relationships and the implications of asymmetrical power in those relationships. In this sense, the emplacement of migrant children in the child welfare system, followed by a failure to secure them citizenship, is not just a denial of the right to have rights, it is also a fundamental breach of the obligation to preserve the integrity of the relationship between guardian and child. Fiduciary law better captures the social dimension of the relationship breakdown and the juridical reason that law provides a responsive remedy.

Two doctrinal aspects of fiduciary law also make it a promising avenue for former crossover youth facing deportation. First, there is no limitations period for fiduciary claims, which means that such claims can be raised well after a migrant child ages out of care. This is important because former crossover youth may not even realize that child welfare agencies failed to apply for citizenship on their behalf. Second, the remedies available following a breach of fiduciary duty include ‘equitable compensation’. In Frame v. Smith, Justice Wilson, dissenting but not on this point, explained that the purpose of equitable compensation is ‘to restore to the plaintiff what has been lost through the defendant’s breach or the value of what has been lost’.Footnote 93 If what has been lost from the state’s neglect of migrant children in care is access to Canadian citizenship and the safety from deportation it provides, then equitable compensation for that loss could include a grant of Canadian citizenship or a stay of deportation.

The weakness of the fiduciary avenue is the need to bring such claims in provincial superior courts that do not normally consider immigration law. Additionally, actions in provincial superior court can easily take two to three years to be heard and cost tens of thousands of dollars. Given these access to justice barriers, it is unsurprising that to date, the fiduciary claims advanced in this context have occurred through class action proceedings. A pre-requisite of such proceedings is that there are common issues between class members, which diminishes the ability of this mechanism to respond to particularized harms of individuals.

3.3 The Constitutional Right to Equality and Non-discrimination

The final avenue for transforming social legality into formal legality is the Canadian constitution and its guarantee of equality rights. Section 15 of the Canadian Charter of Rights and FreedomsFootnote 94 provides: ‘Every individual is equal before and under the law and has the right to the equal protection and equal benefit of the law without discrimination and, in particular, without discrimination based on race, national or ethnic origin, colour, religion, sex, age or mental or physical disability’.

The test for discrimination under section 15 requires a claimant to prove: (1) that a law or government action ‘creates a distinction on the basis of an enumerated or analogous ground’ and (2) that this distinction constitutes arbitrary or discriminatory disadvantage.Footnote 95 A law will amount to arbitrary or discriminatory disadvantage where it ‘fails to respond to the actual capacities and needs of the members of the group and instead imposes burdens or denies a benefit in a manner that has the effect of reinforcing, perpetuating or exacerbating their disadvantage’.Footnote 96

In Mr Abdi’s case, he argued before Canadian immigration officials that the state’s denial of citizenship to him as a child was discriminatory. Canada’s Citizenship Act prevented him from applying for citizenship directly, and it made the application process more onerous for state wards who, like him, were not adopted. The Citizenship Act also prohibited crossover youth from obtaining citizenship because of their record of youth offences. These barriers were magnified by the provincial child welfare agency’s failure to have any internal policy on securing citizenship for migrant children in its care and its efforts to prevent Mr Abdi’s family from applying for citizenship on his behalf on the basis that he was a state ward. On judicial review, the Federal Court found that immigration officials had completely ignored these submissions:

Mr. Abdi provided detailed submissions on his particular and unique facts, including the fact that he was a long-term ward of the state. With respect to his lack of Canadian citizenship, he highlighted the fact that the [child welfare agency] intervened to remove his name from his aunt’s citizenship application. These factors may be relevant considerations with respect to a s. 15 Charter value of non-discrimination in the [delegate]’s referral decision. But they were not considered. There is no indication in the record or in the [delegate]’s decision that she turned her mind to any of these considerations.Footnote 97

As a result, the Court held that the decision to refer Mr Abdi to a deportation hearing – a pro forma process that resulted in an automatic deportation order in the circumstances – was unreasonable and set it aside.Footnote 98

Had immigration officials or the Court engaged with the constitutional arguments, there are strong reasons to believe that the test for discrimination would have been met in this context of a former crossover youth facing deportation. The Citizenship Act makes a distinction between state wards who are adopted and state wards who are not adopted. The former are entitled to citizenship on application regardless of the amount of time they have been in Canada and even if they have certain involvement with the youth criminal justice system, whereas the latter require three years of residence before applying and are prohibited from taking the oath of citizenship if similarly involved with the youth criminal justice system.Footnote 99 The Citizenship Act makes a distinction for applications by minors, including state wards, by requiring such applications to be made by ‘a person who has custody of the minor or who is empowered to act on their behalf … unless otherwise ordered by a court’.Footnote 100 These distinctions make it more difficult for migrant children in care to obtain citizenship – difficulties that are compounded where provincial child welfare agencies lack policies and expertise for migrant children in care. By making it more difficult for migrant children in care to obtain Canadian citizenship, the law reinforces, perpetuates, and exacerbates the disadvantage of an already vulnerable group, imposing an insecure status upon them. Rather than provide for them, as children in need of protection, the law makes it more likely that they will be deportable should they become involved in the criminal justice system as young adults. This is discriminatory and contrary to section 15 of the Charter.

The strength of the constitutional avenue for transforming social legality into formal legality is that it transforms emplacement into a rights violation, one that can capture the multi-scalar nature of the state conduct that makes former crossover youth vulnerable to deportation. Placement of non-citizen children in care, even for bona fide child protection reasons, imposes discriminatory disadvantage on those children because of Canada’s multi-scalar deportation practices. Those practices make non-citizen children in care more likely to be involved in the criminal justice system and less likely to acquire the protections of citizenship, resulting in a non-trivial risk of deportation. Understood as a rights violation, this imposition of discriminatory disadvantage requires an appropriate remedy. Section 24(1) of the CharterFootnote 101 provides that ‘[a]nyone whose rights or freedoms … have been infringed or denied may apply to a court of competent jurisdiction to obtain such remedy as the court considers appropriate and just in the circumstances’. This is a broad remedial power that could include remedies akin to those provided for breach of a fiduciary duty, including a grant of citizenship or a stay of deportation. Importantly, this type of remedy can be provided by the Federal Court in the context of an immigration proceeding.

The weakness of the constitutional avenue is its complexity and increased cost. Constitutional cases turn on having an adequate evidentiary record to explain the relevant social facts that shape the underlying rights claim.Footnote 102 For example, a claimant would need to present evidence on the vulnerable nature of children in care and the phenomenon of crossover youth since this is beyond the scope of ordinary judicial knowledge. In Mr Abdi’s case, such evidence was provided by two university professors with expertise in child protection and youth justice.Footnote 103 But this evidence is costly to obtain and likely beyond the capacity of most former crossover youth on account of their marginalization.

4 Conclusion

The multi-scalar migration governance literature reveals that migrants are emplaced in different state and substate spaces when they arrive in a new country. One of those spaces is cities, which often provide the services and points of engagement that are of most immediate significance to migrants as they build their lives in a new country.

The enhanced role of cities in place-making has redefined citizenship or at least added new conceptions of citizenship that challenge the notion that the national scale is the predominant political community that confers belonging. What has emerged is a conception of ‘local citizenship’ that is based on residence and relationships at the local scale, and which extends from a migrant’s engagement with opportunities, barriers, and networks at that scale to create a form of social legality. This has implications for the politics of belonging where federal immigration authorities seek to deport a person who lacks formal citizenship but possesses ‘local citizenship’.

Emplacement, redefining citizenship, and the politics of belonging are shaped by the specific migratory context. This chapter examined these concepts in the context of migrant children in Canada who are apprehended by provincial child welfare agencies. The literature and case studies discussed show that migrant children in care often do not receive the support they need, particularly in obtaining Canadian citizenship. At the same time, migrant children are at risk of crossover into involvement with the criminal justice system that can expose them to deportation precisely because of the state’s failure to secure citizenship on their behalf. Where deportation is threatened, redefined conceptions of citizenship and competing authority over belonging leads to political confrontation. This confrontation can prevent federal authorities from deporting former crossover youth where the social legality they possess is politically powerful.

Social legality, however, does not confer formal legality. One of the shortcomings of the multi-scalar migration governance literature is that it rests on political, social, and moral claims rather than on legal claims. If a redefined conception of citizenship is to be transformed into formal legality, there must be an avenue for recognizing these political, social, and moral claims in domestic law.

In this chapter, three such avenues were explored in the context of former crossover youth facing deportation from Canada: (1) administrative discretion, (2) fiduciary duties, and (3) equality rights. Each of these avenues comes with strengths and weaknesses, both theoretically and practically. Administrative discretion confers legal authority on immigration officials to temper the punitive force of ‘crimmigration’ consequences in compelling circumstances, such as where the state played a role in depriving a former crossover youth of obtaining citizenship and the right to have rights. But the inherent nature of discretion is that it does not have to be exercised and when applied in the context of immigration law, it may not fully capture the multi-scalar dimensions of the experience of former crossover youth. Fiduciary duties transform relationships of care into obligations that if breached may require an equitable remedy. But this area of law is highly technical and such claims would have to be brought in courts that are not normally engaged with immigration law. The constitutional guarantee of equality may transform emplacement into a rights violation where citizenship laws and the failure of child welfare agencies disadvantage migrant children by denying them the protections afforded by citizenship. But constitutional claims are complex and expensive, requiring legal submissions and an evidentiary record that many former crossover youth would be unable to generate.

Nonetheless, what is common across all these avenues is the transformation of ‘social legality’ into a legitimate legal claim. As multi-scalar migration governance continues to redefine citizenship, these avenues may be pressed into force in domestic courts when former crossover youth face deportation from Canada. This will shape both political and legal contestation of the principle, recognized under immigration law, that non-citizens do not have an unqualified right to enter or remain in Canada.

3 From Control to Deterrence Assessing Border Enforcement in South Africa

Jeff Handmaker and Caroline Nalule
1 Introduction

Prior to 1994, South Africa was infamous for its racialized policies and seemingly limitless measures of social control and internal movement through a regime of apartheid, or racialized separation. Despite much pressure from the international community, the government was stubbornly resistant to change, reinforcing its control through police and security forces that were “always in the front line in the enforcement of apartheid … (and) ensured that black South Africans were kept in their places in segregated and inferior institutions.”Footnote 1

South Africa’s racialized control over movement extended to how the state controlled migrants at its external borders.Footnote 2 An essential feature of these measures has been – and to a significant extent continues to be – how South Africa maintains bilateral agreements with neighboring governments, which is the first of the country’s two-gates system, the other being individualized entry through a border post.Footnote 3

Those who have managed to cross the border and enter South Africa in an unregulated manner, whether through a border post or a gap in the fence, particularly from Mozambique and Zimbabwe, have often been confronted with a hostile reception.Footnote 4 While typical of the realities of (forced) migration globally, and the desperation of those who would do anything to cross the border for a perceived improvement of their lives, these particular experiences have shattered the idealistic vision that many migrants had of South Africa when it became a liberal democracy, following the country’s first democratic elections in 1994.

From the very beginning of this democratic transition, scholars cultivated a perception, that was shared by policymakers, politicians, and the general public, of South Africa being inundated with (African) migrants that they were undesirable.Footnote 5 As in many parts of the world, antiforeigner sentiment spawned an aggressive enforcement of the Aliens Control Act based on the general misperception that South Africa was faced with a flood of migrants, especially from neighboring countries.Footnote 6 Migrants in general have largely been seen to be coming for reasons that are perceived as harmful to South African society. There was particular concern raised by international organizations such as the UN High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) and International Organization for Migration (IOM) that economic migrants, in an attempt to regularize their status, would overwhelm the country’s otherwise liberal asylum system. The South African government reinforced this perception of being inundated by migrants with the development of a so-called white list for handling asylum applications that implicitly assumed certain countries from where asylum seekers were coming were “safe.”Footnote 7

To date, with some exceptions, most of the scholarship on migration in South Africa, including by the current authors, has been in relation to legal and policy developments and especially compliance with international law, demographic surveys, and studies of civil society responses to migrants.Footnote 8 In this chapter, we focus on the emergence of post-1994 migration policies and enforcement practices, arguing that several aspects of what Valverde refers to as forms of “everyday legal governance,” including governance through uses (rather than persons or rights), are visible in South Africa’s postapartheid migration and border control regime, whereby past practices of racialized control over the mobility of non-white persons have been reproduced in the postdemocratic order following elections in 1994.Footnote 9 This provides a different and important perspective on more than two decades of migrant and border policy development and enforcement and sheds light on why, despite considerable efforts at reform, migration policy, and its enforcement in South Africa remain stubbornly resistant to change.

To illustrate this, we show how everyday legal governance is present in three salient features of South Africa’s migration and border control regime. The first salient feature that we discuss in Section 2 concerns the racialized underpinnings of this regime, with origins in South Africa’s apartheid-era policies of influx control. The contemporary manifestations of this racialized regime are marked by xenophobia and especially Afrophobia. We highlight detention and deportation policies that have not only victimized foreigners in general, mainly though not exclusively from other African countries but have also victimized black South Africans. The fact that it has not been possible to orient the country’s migration and border control regime around a culture of accountability and rights-based principles is even more noteworthy, in light of the sustained efforts of various legal mobilization actors, from NGOs to the South African Human Rights Commission, through reports, public advocacy, and court-based litigation. In Section 3, we discuss how efforts to cultivate a rights-based enforcement culture have been further hindered by the transplantation of ideas from abroad, and in particular from the United States. These policies were not only based on failed models of deterring perceived economic migrants, but they were also manifestly ill-suited to the South African context. These transplanted policies reinforced South Africa’s already racialized everyday forms of legal governance of migration. Moreover, these policies were disjointed in relation to the multiple actors involved in migration and border control. Despite this patchy and racialized enforcement, we show that the transplantation of problematic ideas around migration and border control never fully lost their appeal and can still be traced to the 2020 Border Management Authority Act. Finally, in Section 4, we discuss a third salient feature of the everyday governance of migration in South Africa, which is a prevalence of official corruption that has further mired South Africa’s regime of migration and border control. Legal governance efforts to combat the systemic problem of bribe-taking, which also has resonance in South Africa’s policies of influx control, have remained elusive.

To explicate how these three salient forms of everyday forms of migration governance have operated in South Africa and why the country’s border and migration regime has reproduced earlier approaches to enforcement and resisted rights-based approaches, we draw on Mariana Valverde’s notions of everyday governance, which operate across what she has termed different and overlapping scales of governance in relation to space and time.Footnote 10 This involves a specific mode of thinking in “understanding how legal tools have changed,” and in particular the bases for arresting and detaining migrants, and for determining their potential legal status as refugees.

In the course of analyzing these legal tools of border enforcement, we highlight features of South Africa’s predemocratic and more recent history of racialized migration and border control, and in particular two “formative events”Footnote 11 that have affected how this history of regulating cross-border movement is regarded by policymakers and by South Africans. We argue that border enforcement practices have ultimately been guided less by national and international standards and more by national policies and systemic enforcement practices (and especially corruption) that have not changed very much from the previous, pre-1994 democratic dispensations. Accordingly, in relation to the three salient features we have described previously, we highlight three spaces where the everyday governance of migration is especially visible: first, in the concentrated local spaces of South Africa’s land borders and urban centres; second, in South Africa’s migrant detention centers – in particular the notorious Lindela Center; and third, in the refugee reception offices that have faced ever-greater pressures as the number of offices has increasingly been reduced. These land borders have historically been flashpoints of armed conflict while Lindela Detention Center and refugee reception offices have been notorious for the widespread prevalence of corruption, also at its sea and air borders, which in this particular contribution we pay less attention to.

We argue that South Africa’s policies and practices of migration and border control are consistent with Valverde’s conceptualization of everyday legal governance as largely taking the form of local enforcement, whereby “struggles around constitutional rights” need to be primarily understood in relation to “local struggles in which the legal ‘funnel’ for political and social disputes is local law.”Footnote 12 More specifically, we show how the everyday enforcement of migration and border control is only to a very limited extent regulated by judicial oversight and is much more the product of local norms and structures of authority.

We conclude that South Africa’s efforts to deter immigrants have been a policy of arbitrary enforcement that in its highly localized enforcement of migration and border controls has been “deployed in everyday legal governance.”Footnote 13 This enables us to fundamentally question whether a succession of changes to South Africa’s migration policy and enforcement have truly marked a historic break from the country’s apartheid past.

2 Racialized Underpinnings in Detention and Deportation

Having emerged from a history of racialized control of both internal and external mobility, South Africa’s postcolonial, postapartheid migration regime in 1994 was firmly oriented around an unreconstructed approach of controlling the admission into, residence in, and departure from South Africa. Under the auspices of the ominously named Aliens Control Act of 1991, the latest iteration of decades of racialized legislation, and consistent with other apartheid-era policies, South Africa’s approach was essentially one of zero tolerance, whereby the policy regime categorized most spontaneous arrivals of migrants as prohibited persons. This official policy of zero tolerance was accompanied by a range of nebulous exceptions that were mostly at the discretion of locally placed immigration officials, mostly operating at the country’s many border posts.

2.1 Post-1994 Enforcement Saw Little Change

As Crush observed, in principle, the racialized nature of this policy meant that things had not moved on very much following democratic elections, and the formal introduction of a liberal-constitutional, rights-based system of governance in 1994.Footnote 14 In other words, while other aspects of South Africa’s governance system gradually transformed by way of legislation, rights-based guidelines, and training, the Aliens Control Act of 1991 transmitted most racialized aspects of the apartheid migration and border control regime into the post-1994 democratic regime in South Africa.Footnote 15 In practice, those who spontaneously presented themselves at the border during this period had little formal guarantee that they would be allowed in, although already corruption was endemic, and many people who could afford a bribe did get through.Footnote 16 Further, as was the case prior to 1994, the majority of migrants bypassed the border post altogether. Reinforcing these spaces of local governance, an electric border fence, colloquially known as the snake that had been constructed in the 1980s at the border with Mozambique by the South African apartheid regime and that had once been set at lethal mode, ostensibly to deter militant groups, remained in place, albeit at a nonlethal voltage in detection mode.Footnote 17 By the late 1990s, border controls and migration policies in South Africa were brought into effect through external measures (at the border) and internal measures (primarily in urban areas), which in practice were based on racial categories that, once again, were essentially unchanged from the predemocratic apartheid era.

As was the case prior to 1994, these policies did not necessarily target migrants from particular countries. Apart from asylum seekers who generally presented themselves to the authorities with travel documents and appeared on the white list referred to earlier, a generalized profiling of (suspected) undocumented migrants has been in place on the basis of racialized criteria. This led to a number of persons being apprehended and taken into detention when they possessed a valid visa or permit to reside.Footnote 18 There has been a robust policy basis for this as well; particularly under the Aliens Control Act, but also incorporated into subsequent legislation, such as the 2002 Immigration Act, it has been, administratively speaking, a straightforward measure to detain and deport any suspected undocumented migrant.

2.2 Unreliable Statistical Data and Emergence of a “White List”

Statistics on migration have been anything but reliable.Footnote 19 Nevertheless, based on the figures that were made available, there was an apparent trend that migrants from neighboring countries were the most heavily represented in the migration landscape, albeit moving mostly in a circular pattern.Footnote 20 Some of the migrants from neighboring countries sought asylum in postapartheid South Africa, namely Angolans in the 1990s and the Zimbabweans in the late 2000s. In addition, asylum seekers in South Africa have come, sometimes in their thousands, from Ethiopia, Nigeria, DRC, Bangladesh, Pakistan, Malawi, Somalia, India, and Ghana.Footnote 21

On the basis of this unreliable data, the “white list” emerged; this was reflected, statistically speaking, in the government rejecting, more than 90% of asylum applications; it was claimed that most of these applications were from economic migrants.Footnote 22 In turn, this situation reinforced a widespread view among post-1994 migration scholars that the South African government’s migration policy had “given rise to a costly yet ineffective asylum system that does not achieve its intended goals and attracts individuals better suited to other forms of regularization.”Footnote 23

As a consequence of the high asylum rejection rates and lack of alternative regularization pathways, the number of “undocumented migrants” in South Africa has remained a matter of great speculation.Footnote 24 Meanwhile, the government response has comprised a sequence of migration, asylum, and border control policies and practices, many of which have been subject to legal challenge.

2.3 Efforts at Legal Reform

It has already been mentioned that the policy framework governing migration remained largely unchanged since the period prior to elections in 1994. In fact, it was only after Amendments were made to the Aliens Control Act in 1995 that detention could even be reviewed by a judge, the so-called ouster clauses.Footnote 25 The amendment introduced was the first of many subsequent legal and policy reforms, which in this case referred specifically to section 55 of the Aliens Control Act, allowing, for the first time, judicial review of a decision by an immigration officer to detain a migrant; this provision was later also provided for in respect of asylum seekers when it was incorporated into section 29 of the Refugees Act. However, in practice, such reviews have rarely taken place.Footnote 26

Eventually, upon the enactment of the new Immigration Act (IA 2002), which reproduced the xenophobic language of the Aliens Control Act, and particularly the term prohibited person, the Department of Home Affairs (DHA) gained the power to apprehend, detain, and deport any “illegal foreigner.” An illegal foreigner/prohibited person was described as any foreigner found to be in South Africa in contravention of the Act.Footnote 27 Prohibited persons were described as including those carrying infectious or communicable diseases, persons wanted for the commission of serious crimes such as genocide, terrorism, anyone previously deported and not rehabilitated, a member of a group advocating for racial hatred, or utilizing crime and terrorism, and anyone found with a fraudulent visa, passport permit or identification document.Footnote 28 Additionally, the IA empowered the Minister and Director-General to declare persons as “undesirable” if they were

likely to become a public charge, are identified as such by the Minister, have been judicially declared incompetent, have been ordered to depart in terms of the Act, are a fugitive from justice, they have a previous criminal conviction without the option of a fine, or have overstayed the prescribed number of times.Footnote 29

In any event, either category of person could be subject to detention and eventually deportation.Footnote 30 Some measures in the IA were even more rigid than before. For example, the IA ignored the 1995 Amendments to the Aliens Control Act that allowed one to request that his or her detention be confirmed by the court upon apprehension. Furthermore, under the IA 2002, a detained foreigner could be detained for 30 days without recourse to court. The Constitutional Court eventually held these provisions to be unconstitutional and ordered an amendment in compliance therewith.Footnote 31

2.4 Clinging to Long-Established Norms of Enforcement, Particularly Regarding Detention

Despite court decisions declaring border policies to be unconstitutional, particularly in relation to arbitrary detention practices as well as prescreening procedures and long decision-making periods for asylum seeker determinations,Footnote 32 South African police and DHA officials have clung to long-established, local norms of enforcement. From the mid to late 1990s, this included detaining asylum seekers who were still awaiting decisions on their applications, whether or not they were holding up-to-date permits. It had seemed irrelevant to the authorities that a failure to obtain timely renewals or obtaining of relevant permits might be due to structural and administrative obstacles.

This was especially problematic for asylum seekers and refugees following the closure of several regional refugee reception offices that had served as a third space of local governance.Footnote 33 The closures of these offices were contested by both NGOs and refugees’ associations who mounted successful court challenges.Footnote 34 A number of positive court judgements notwithstanding, and further reinforcing our contention that local norms guided by the arbitrariness of officials whose decision to detain, delay, or otherwise hinder access to due process procedures (including by way of bribe-taking) have a much stronger hold in practice than judicial pronouncements, the DHA has been slow to comply with the court orders, if it has complied at all.Footnote 35

Detentions and deportations of those deemed to be “prohibited persons,” “illegal foreigners,” or “undocumented persons” in South Africa have raised significant concerns among scholars and human rights activists, with one scholar referring to South Africa as a “prolific deporter.”Footnote 36 The level of deportations peaked at 113,554 in 2013.Footnote 37 Deportations dropped to 24,266 deportations during 2018–2019.Footnote 38 After 2013, the number of deportations went down, following a so-called Special Dispensation for Zimbabweans.Footnote 39 This was in response to the perceived high inflow of Zimbabweans at the time.Footnote 40 However, nationals of other African countries still constituted 99% of all deportations.Footnote 41 Roni Amit revealed that the DHA had been violating both the Immigration Act and the Constitution by detaining persons beyond the acceptable 48 hours before they could ascertain their immigration status and detaining persons that are protected under the Refugees Act.Footnote 42 The situation did not seem to have improved in the years that followed, according to an open letter by Lawyers for Human Rights (LHR), a local NGO, to the President of the Republic on World Refugee Day in 2018:

… it appears that the immigration system does not now operate as it should. It has come to the attention of the public that people are wrongfully and unlawfully detained under the current immigration legislation; that the process of arrest and detention of would-be immigrants is arbitrary and, therefore, violates the rights of citizens and other residents; that corruption and bribery are rife; that those detained in cells in South Africa’s main awaiting-repatriation detention facility are often subjected to inhumane treatment and indignity; [i]f the composition of the population at the Lindela repatriation facility is anything to go by, it would suggest that only people of African origin are arrested and deported as illegal aliens …Footnote 43

Once again, there is resonance with South Africa’s past. In her research on the practices of citizenship and the growing criminalization of border control measures, Valverde has argued that the temporal dimension of governance, particularly in relation to prolific use of detention, is not disconnected from the racist policing of migrants and other cultural minorities.Footnote 44 Indeed, as discussed in Section 2.5, the racialized character of South Africa’s migration policy has been reflected quite broadly in xenophobic attitudes, in official governance, in the media and in most other aspects of daily life, mainly to the detriment of low-skilled migrants.Footnote 45

2.5 Growing Xenophobia

Through a combination of unfocused, though racialized targeting of (suspected) foreigners, unclear statistical data (that nevertheless suggested an influx of foreigners from particular countries), an arbitrary policy regime broadly allowing for the stopping and detaining of persons and numerous media reports and scholarly articles that suggested a flood of foreigners in the country, xenophobia quickly took hold within the police and other border enforcement officials as well as among the general public, following democratic elections in 1994. This xenophobia has been directed at not just foreigners in the country but also South Africans who were considered to be “too dark” or have a “strange manner of dressing”; they have been subject to being apprehended, detained and even deported.Footnote 46 Violence has also been widespread. Aggressive police enforcement of border control laws has been conducted in a manner that has resembled the previous government’s earlier, apartheid-style enforcement of racialized pass laws as part of a policy of influx control, which regulated the internal mobility and residence of persons in South Africa on the basis of legally defined, racial categories.Footnote 47 A particularly disturbing example that took place in 2000 was recorded on video and leaked to the public – something rather unique in its time – confirmed the South African Police’s use of detained, Mozambican immigrants as live targets during training exercises with dogs.Footnote 48 Such attitudes toward African migrants were not exceptional; as Handmaker observed during multiple police trainings that he conducted in the late 1990s, racialized attitudes toward foreigners, as well as South Africans who looked like foreigners, was deeply embedded in the local norms of border enforcement officials whose careers had extended well into the pre-1994 period.Footnote 49

Xenophobia has also been reinforced by an institutional continuity. Not long after elections in 1994, suspected undocumented persons were sent to Lindela Repatriation Center, as a precursor to their deportation. Located in the municipality of Krugersdorp, to the west of Johannesburg, Lindela Center is a former residential hostel. Here, Valverde’s temporal dimension of governance is important to note. The facilities at Lindela had originally been used to house migrants from neighboring countries who had been recruited as migrant laborers for the mining industry; it was part and parcel of South Africa’s elaborate migration system. Rail links existed between Lindela Center and neighboring Mozambique. In 1996, Lindela, became a privately run holding center procured under the authority of the DHA.

Although detention facilities have existed in each of South Africa’s nine provinces, from police cells to prison wings and former detention facilities that were used for suspected pass law offenders, virtually all persons who were suspected to be without legal residence in the country and marked for deportation have been sent to Lindela.Footnote 50 As an example of everyday legal governance, there has been coordination with local police forces for the purpose of apprehension and detention (also in local police cells), but the enforcement of migrant detention at Lindela has been a particularly unaccountable space of local governance, run through private contractors on behalf of the DHA, which established a permanent presence in the facility.

Not surprisingly, the lawfulness of detentions in, and deportations from Lindela have on numerous occasions been called into question by human rights lawyers. For instance, lawyers have argued that asylum seekers who entered the country without documentation were often detained pending a decision on their asylum application, even though the stated policy of the DHA was not to hold such persons if it appeared that the application would take “unreasonably long to process.”Footnote 51

Yet, xenophobia in South Africa has been featured as more than a specific form of stigmatization. Rather than being directed at people on the basis of individual criteria, it can be regarded as a consequence of long-standing policies of racialized, socio-spatial separation, with clear origins in the country’s previous apartheid regime.Footnote 52 As a vivid and deeply unsettling illustration of this point, from the late 1990s, in scenes reminiscent of apartheid-era forms of enforcement (and the treatment of black persons generally, where violence was commonplace), South Africa began experiencing an exponential rise in attacks against foreigners, both by officials and the general public.Footnote 53

Some have argued that the rise in attacks against mainly African foreigners have been fueled by various myths regarding migrants and reproduced in sensationalist media reports that have affirmed an increasingly widespread belief that strong controls were needed to counter a perceived threat of uncontrolled migration of millions of people.Footnote 54 Yet, actual evidence based on South African census results indicated that there were estimated to be 423,000 foreigners in 1996, a number that increased only slightly to 463,000 in 2001.Footnote 55 By 2011, the overall number of foreigners in the country increased more significantly and reported at 2,173,409, or a mere 4.2% of the entire South African population.Footnote 56 Therefore, while it could not be denied that there had been an increase in migration to South Africa since the dismantling of apartheid, as mentioned earlier, much of this migration has been temporary and circular. In any event, there was scant evidence to suggest that the levels of migration were anywhere near the scale claimed by politicians and reported in the media.

Increasingly frequent attacks on foreigners culminated in the first formative event that we highlight in this chapter, in this case, the 2008 wave of xenophobic violence that resulted in the deaths of more than sixty people and the displacement of hundreds of thousands. These attacks drew the world’s attention to the scale of xenophobia in South Africa. The attacks were also widely reported in the media, although notwithstanding the xenophobic views expressed by the media, doubts have been raised whether or not the media was directly complicit in the violence.Footnote 57 Since the 2008 wave, there have been smaller, though still serious incidents occurring almost every year, targeting mainly self-employed and low-income foreign workers. Indeed, it is clear that the systemic fear of and hatred toward foreigners in South Africa has not abated from the late 1990s until the present day.Footnote 58

2.6 Government Responses to Xenophobia and Racialized Enforcement

Whatever the underlying causes or triggers, the government’s response to xenophobia and racialized enforcement has been underwhelming. Rather than acknowledging the underlying causes of xenophobia as systemic and embedded in local norms of enforcement, which has manifested in racialized hatred, discrimination, and violence, directed toward migrants and South Africans alike, the government has persistently taken a position of denial, maintaining that it does what it can do address xenophobia. Moreover, the government insists that its migration policy framework is perfectly in line with its international and regional commitments. As Landau argues in relation to the government’s limited efforts to break the cycle of racialized violence, “such objectives and responsibilities are not supported by the legal and administrative mechanisms” that ought to give concrete effect to those commitments.Footnote 59 To the contrary, South Africa’s post-1994 migration and asylum policies and laws over the ensuing years have explicitly aimed to discourage the migration of particularly low-skilled workers and others who are (falsely) deemed to be a drain on the public purse, and in particular to demonize asylum seekers and refugees.Footnote 60

For instance, in 2011, an amendment to the Immigration Act reduced the validity period of asylum transit permits, which were renamed as visas, that were obtained at a border post from fourteen to five days; this was ostensibly done in order to facilitate entry, though in practice the limited period of legalized travel, coupled with long waiting times at refugee reception centers, made it much more difficult for asylum seekers to regularize their status in the country. Measures like this that purported to be based on good intentions (in this case to encourage asylum seekers to apply in a timely manner), but in fact made things more difficult for them, represent vivid illustrations of the temporal dimension of governance, whereby, according to Valverde an “old scale” of governance is:

sometimes put on the shelf, but the complex apparatus of overlapping and multiple scales of governance that has developed (within and intertwined with law) continues to exist even when only a particular, perhaps new technique or scale is being used.Footnote 61

In this case, despite referring to the new permit as a visa, the change placed asylum seekers in just as precarious a position as they were before, if not more so, rendering them highly susceptible to detention and deportation if they were subsequently found with expired permits had they not managed to reach a refugee processing center in time, located in just a few locations in South Africa’s urban areas.Footnote 62 Additionally, the Act repealed an earlier provision on cross border permits, which, previously, the DHA could issue to citizens or residents of countries sharing a border with South Africa.Footnote 63 These persons also happened to be the majority of its arriving migrants. This clawback to the country’s earlier migration regime based on bilateral agreements contradicted South Africa’s official position on regional free movement of persons, contained in a Protocol that South Africa had ratified in 2005.Footnote 64

From a temporal perspective of everyday forms of governance, such a bilateral approach to regularizing immigration status of SADC citizens, as a visible historical remnant of its two gates migration policy, was most visible in relation to Zimbabwean, Angolan and Lesotho nationals who were resident in South Africa. These nationals have been given the opportunity to apply for Special Dispensations to study, work or operate a business in South Africa for a stipulated period, and these Dispensations have been periodically reviewed.Footnote 65 However, only few nationals of these countries have met the strict criteria for receiving this dispensation, excluding low-skilled and low-income earners. Additionally, the beneficiaries of these dispensations have not been eligible for permanent residence or citizenship status.

South Africa’s postapartheid general policies on immigration and border control and forms of everyday governance have undoubtedly been motivated by security concerns that can be regarded as echoes of the previous regime.Footnote 66 The securitized and racialized character of South Africa’s border control policies is not only traceable to pre-1994 forms of apartheid-era border enforcement. As discussed in Section 3, the extensive involvement of US government and reliance on advisors seeking to transplant US migration policy and border control mechanisms has also played a role in reinforcing these older patterns of racialized border enforcement.

3 Transplantation of US-Styled Policy Approaches to Immigration and Border Control

US government officials became actively involved in conducting surveys of South African border control mechanisms, making recommendations, training South African officials and even participating in government task teams developing policy since at least 1996/97. In what became another formative event, the United States sent over a team of border control officials to review South Africa’s air, land, and seaports and to make policy- and practice-based recommendations. This was notwithstanding the fact that border management systems in the United States had not only consistently failed to achieve their stated objectives but had raised a number of serious human rights concerns as well.Footnote 67

Soon afterwards, the United States established an office in Johannesburg, joining officials of the United Kingdom who had been investigating cargo operations in Durban.Footnote 68 In 1997, a report by an Inspection Team from the US Immigration and Naturalization Service (INS) was released, “pursuant to a request from the South African Government to the United States Department of State.”Footnote 69 According to the report, the request was in relation to the South African Government’s efforts “to assist that government combat the growing crime problem.”Footnote 70 The INS Inspection Team, which was composed of border control and inspections officials from various sea, air and land border posts in the United States, was split into four teams, making assessments of selected land borders, seaports and airports in South Africa. Its aim was (in part) to “provide a working methodology by which other problems can be identified and attacked.”Footnote 71 The report strongly encouraged the South African government to prioritize “control of illegal immigration (as) one of its top priorities.”Footnote 72

Without specification, and with an unexpected reference to recognizing the role of local norms, the US INS Report recommended that “the community” be more involved in border policing, based on a claim that “the community has a vested interest in border control.”Footnote 73 Emphasis in the 1997 US INS report was placed on holding train, ship and airline companies accountable for border control, through a comprehensive system of fines, based on a contention that this would be a “force multiplier to border control.”Footnote 74 Moreover, the report claimed that “numerous intelligence documents, both national and international, had concluded that the illegal alien situation in South Africa (was) out of control”; the “tremendous pressure” the authorities in South Africa were facing was acknowledged, ranging from increasing air traffic to porous land borders. These pressures, the report argued in an especially nebulous manner, arose from “(p)eople (who had) become refugees by weather changes that affect agricultural production and political changes that affect human rights.”Footnote 75

3.1 Collective Approach to Border Control

The 1997 report by the US INS became the basis of a National Inter-departmental Policy called the Collective Approach to Border Control (CABC).Footnote 76 The CABC policy became the core document regulating the coordination of border control between the four South African agencies responsible for immigration and border control: South African Defence Force (Military), Revenue Service (Customs), and Police Service and Home Affairs, with Home Affairs as de facto the lead agency. Additional role players in the National Inter-departmental Structure (NIDS) with complementary functions included the National Intelligence Agency, South African Secret Service, and the Departments of Trade and Industry, Health, Agriculture, Foreign Affairs, Environmental Affairs & Tourism, Correctional Service, Transport, Public Works, Justice, and Welfare.

According to Piet Grobler, then Provincial Commander (Western Cape) in the Border Police section of the South African Police Services (SAPSs), and a former member of the NIDS, the CABC sought to get beyond a previously disjointed approach and create a “unified and accountable command structure for border control.”Footnote 77 The CABC addressed the various aims and functions of various levels of border control officials, from the national level to the port of entry level.Footnote 78 It recommended a phased program of action, planned to take place over a one-and-a-half-year period, from mid-1997 until the end of 1998, in order to bring the three main agencies (Customs, Immigration and Police) “under one roof,” allocating existing staff to new positions and assigning new roles rather than hiring additional staff.Footnote 79

The Report was to be followed by a Business Plan, to be drawn up by an Inter-Agency Structure. It was communicated in 1997 to Handmaker by a well-placed source who requested to remain anonymous that there were other proposals submitted to the NIDS Task Team for consideration, in addition to the US-led NIDS report. These proposals, which were not made publicly available, included a National Intelligence Coordinating Committee Report to the Cabinet committee on Safety and Intelligence; the Customs Law Enforcement Task Group document for the Executive Head for SA Revenue Services and a draft document prepared by Mr. I Lambinon, who was the then Director-General for the Department of Home Affairs.

It became clear that the US-styled NIDS report was the most influential, and unsurprisingly, its rigid approach to border control did not adequately take into account constitutional and human rights ramifications. Moreover, despite the introduction of the CABC policy, South Africa continued to grapple with the coordination or joint-institutional approach to border control and management. To this day, the three agencies responsible for border control – SAPS, Department of Home Affairs and South African Military – have unclear mandates and overlapping functions.

3.2 The Spaces Filled by Agencies Responsible for Border Control

SAPS has always been primarily responsible for enforcing internal controls, in comparison with other key border enforcement agencies, enforcing internal control measures (detecting, apprehending, and temporarily detaining suspected undocumented migrants) and also managing several of the land border posts. This has included highly concentrated spaces of local governance such as the Lebombo border post, one of South Africa’s most important land border crossings, located in what is known as the Maputo corridor, and where high levels of bribery have been reported, although migrants (mostly small-scale entrepreneurs) report to have otherwise been treated favorably.Footnote 80 In addition to their role in the everyday governance of persons moving through these concentrated spaces that have long-cultivated local norms of enforcement, the police have also been responsible for detecting illegal smuggling of goods and prohibited items (drugs, weapons, etc.) and, together with the South African Revenue Services (SARS), regulating the transport of legal goods.

The DHA has not only been primarily responsible for policy making, but it also fulfils a key role exercising formal control over the country’s external borders as well as internal enforcement. It regulates the entry and exit of people through the borders and handles more complicated determinations on residential status (temporary permits and permanent residence permits). Moreover, the DHA manages dedicated migrant detention centers (to which the police refer migrants in lieu of deportation), and it makes determinations of refugee status through designated refugee reception offices. Hence, in all three of these spaces of local governance, the DHA exercises its control over both policy and enforcement.

The role of the military, the third key border enforcement agency, the South Africa National Defence Forces (SANDF) has broadly been to secure South Africa’s land borders. Initially, there was hesitation, given the violent border conflicts of the 1980s. In fact, from 2003, President Thabo Mbeki issued an order to actually remove the SANDF from operating at the borders. However, by 2009, as South Africa was preparing to host the 2010 World Cup, the then President Jacob Zuma rescinded this decision as the police services on whom the function had been deployed reportedly lacked the capacity to execute it.Footnote 81

While the SAPS and DHA manage the formal border posts, the role of the SANDF has largely been confined to patrolling the difficult-to-govern spaces around the perimeter fence that separates South Africa from neighboring Mozambique and Zimbabwe; this includes the monitoring of US-supplied electronic detection systems. However, as Handmaker personally observed during a field visit in January 2001 at Lebombo border post, in practice, the majority of unauthorized detections are never followed up on, due to a lack of personnel. Twenty years later, the situation appears not to have altered much as the SANDF has maintained that, in its border management function, it still operates at less than optimum capacity.Footnote 82

The SANDF has specified its role in border management to the Parliamentary Monitoring Group thus:

patrolling the land borders by foot and mobile patrols, establishing observation and listening posts, operating vehicle control points, providing a reaction force and follow-up operations which would include the extended border area, conducting roadblocks 20 kilometers to the rear of the borderline in conjunction with the South African Police Service, and collecting information by conducting intelligence operations.Footnote 83

Beyond the formal roles of US officials in these local spaces of migration control and border enforcement, specific forms of (racialized) everyday migration governance in South Africa have drawn significant inspiration from the US-style proposals recommended by INS officials, both in reports and through participation in policy task teams. Furthermore, these forms of racialized migration governance have been reinforced by several, US-sponsored field trips to visit US border control installations, including the South African government’s preoccupation with securitization and control. While direct empirical evidence is lacking as to what extent these policy transplants and field visits to US border posts has actually influenced South African border enforcement practices, there are strong correlations between South African border enforcement practices and a legacy of racism in the treatment of immigrants in the United States.Footnote 84 These correlations include a South African police culture with roots in the country’s apartheid past with the US border control culture, both of which have been highly militarized.

3.3 Racist Correlations in Governing through Uses

Apartheid-era policing of migration and border control is an example of what Valverde refers to as governing through uses; as she observes, “uses, unlike persons, are not rights bearers at all.”Footnote 85 By prioritizing the use (of borders) over the persons (border crossers), border officials have reinforced a highly managerial, arbitrary, and ultimately futile approach to border crossing and internal border enforcement. Both in policy and practice, migrants have been persons who are regarded to have little to no rights (e.g., to remain resident in the country). Moreover, there is an important temporal dimension, namely that the very same institutional structures that were set up to enforce South Africa’s notorious policy of influx control were later utilized by the immigration authorities, from an institutional culture that cultivated unaccountable administrative procedures akin to the treatment of criminal suspects (e.g., fingerprinting and detention) to the use of the very same detention cells that had once held pass law violators. Strikingly, this approach to everyday migration governance was reproduced in the 1990s and into the 2000s, with efforts on the part of the police during high-profile, large-scale operations such as Sword and Shield (1996), Operation Passport (1998), Operation Crackdown (1999, 2002, and 2011), and Operation Fiela (2015), some of which were ostensibly meant to fight crime, acting as a cover for border control.

Immigrants not only formed a significant proportion of those who were arrested in these crime-fighting operations, they were not afforded the basic protections that criminal suspects were. Moreover, the lack of regard for migrants as rights holders cultivated a situation of impunity and widespread abuse of power by border control officials. Sometimes, the approach to border control governance was explicit; for example, during Operation Crackdown, which resulted in the arrests of more than 7,000 people (a large proportion of whom were migrants), the police tore up persons’ valid identity documents and utilized other illegal tactics in order to “make immigrants illegal.”Footnote 86

This treatment of foreigners, which has been accompanied by a popular characterization of them being “drug dealers” and “thieves,”Footnote 87 reinforces South Africa’s racialized, everyday governance of border control, whereby “the processes of border control … have become more security- and crime-oriented.”Footnote 88 Moreover, South African border officials’ approaches resonate with Valverde’s observations on how governments have “deliberately blurred the lines” separating “state officials who govern citizenship and immigration from police forces.”Footnote 89 The behavior of immigration officers toward foreigners in South Africa also resonates Graham Hudson’s observations in his contribution to this book, which evaluates how security networks operate at different levels of governance, rendering as illusory any notion of sanctuary for foreigners.

South Africa’s racialized approach to the everyday governance of migration and border control has persisted throughout the 2000s and 2010s. According to Vigneswaran, these operations were initiated by the police, at times without the prior approval of the DHA, and it was only after the police had made their arrests, totaling 54,373 during Operation Crackdown (2002), that they requested “DHA assistance to check the documents of suspected ‘illegals’ and take responsibility for detention and deportation.”Footnote 90 Hence, the “SAPS officials, while never formally adopting a policy on illegal migration, have intermittently … described the enforcement of immigration laws as a potentially useful method of dealing with certain categories of criminals.”Footnote 91

Vigneswaran further argues that the DHA appears to have surrendered street-level migration enforcement to the SAPS who have conducted most of the crackdowns and raids on migrants, usually under the guise of fighting crime.Footnote 92 It is no surprise, therefore, that police detention facilities contain a higher number of “illegal immigrants” than the Lindela Repatriation Center where in fact they should be held. Apparently in 2019, Lindela was “operating at 30% of its full capacity,” while the SAPS was complaining of the burden of detaining immigrants in jails.Footnote 93 What also tends to happen in practice is that crime crackdown operations are concentrated in areas with high populations of immigrants (both documented and undocumented), such as Hillbrow and Yeoville in Johannesburg.Footnote 94

Consequently, the police have emerged as the lead agency in everyday migration enforcement, with the DHA only coming on board to verify the status of those arrested. Studies have concluded that “beat policing is responsible for the largest proportion of arrests of undocumented migrants.”Footnote 95 What then would have been the lead agency in migration control has had to follow the lead of others, buttressing the lack of coordination among the various agencies that have a role in border management. Following his study on South African immigration control and enforcement, Vigneswaran concludes that “the DHA not only failed to bring other departments into line, and transform itself, its own enforcement activities were routinely driven by the other actors’ ongoing performance of immigration enforcement functions.”Footnote 96

4 Official Corruption

In addition to well-documented allegations of the mishandling of migrants, the extent of official corruption in the everyday enforcement of South Africa’s post-1994 migration regime has been endemic, similarly illustrating both the temporal and spatial features of Valverde’s scales of governance.

In the South African context, official corruption is a well-established phenomenon. A number of studies, media reports, and reports by both government and independent institutions have highlighted the prevalence of corrupt practices within South Africa’s post-1994 immigration regime.Footnote 97 Moreover, the paying of bribes in exchange for not being arrested reaches back in history to apartheid-era enforcement of influx control, which governed overtly racialized spaces where white and non-white residents were permitted to live, work, and recreate. These spaces were regulated on the basis of so-called pass laws. If one didn’t have a pass to be in a particular area, there were vulnerable to arrest, a fine, and detention. Finally, as in the past, suspected pass law offenders were often subject to bribes, not only by white but also by black police officers.Footnote 98

Just as Valverde’s temporal dimension of governance is evident here, as with the three main border enforcement agencies’ jostling for control over particular spaces of migration enforcement, the spatial dimension also clearly applies. In addition to the fact that the practice of corruption in South Africa has not changed substantially over time since the country’s enforcement of influx control, the very same spaces that had previously been used to govern pass law offences – including facilities for the interrogation and detention of suspected offenders – have continued to be used to control migrants.

Tom Lodge has observed that the prevalence of corruption, prior to 1994 was not regarded as “endemic” across all levels of bureaucracy in South Africa; rather, “it tended to be concentrated in those areas in which officials encountered people who were particularly rightless and defenseless.”Footnote 99 By the same token, post-1994, the existence of corruption in South Africa has not only been endemic at the country’s land borders but also in refugee status determination/reception centers where applications for asylum have been processed.Footnote 100

4.1 Prevalence of Corruption in the Post-1994 Immigration Enforcement Regime

In their research on immigration enforcement at Beitbridge and in Johannesburg, Vigneswaran and colleagues identified a “loosely-bound network of transport operators, negotiators, hawkers, guides, and (to a lesser extent) officials that run the human smuggling industry” and “have created a parallel border management system to the official border post.”Footnote 101 This network, it is further revealed, acts in collusion with some SAPS officials at the Beitbridge border post.Footnote 102 One researcher anecdotally narrated some of his observations at the Beitbridge border as follows:

Because of the high volumes of people moving on a regular basis, border officials often use their authority to undermine immigration processes such as the ones related to the granting of days for Zimbabweans who need to get their passports stamped for a visitors visa (sic). While they are supposed to evaluate immigrants on a cases by case basis (travel purpose, resources one has etc.) to determine how many days to grant one to stay in the country (According to law, Zimbabweans can get as many as 90 days a year), border officials often impose 30 days as the maximum. They then communicate with bus drivers and malayitshas so that they can inform their passengers to have some money ready for them to “buy more day” if they intend on staying in the country longer.Footnote 103

Away from the border, and into the metropolitan areas where police frequently arrest foreigners, as mentioned earlier, the police were said to “routinely engage in intimidation and extortion of, and simple theft from, Zimbabweans and migrants of other nationalities.”Footnote 104

The police are not the only authorities that engage in corrupt activities, Amit’s research has revealed that a significant number of asylum seekers and refugees experienced corruption at various stages right from the border through gaining access into a refugee reception office, and in the office itself.Footnote 105 These findings have been further substantiated by two reports of independent organizations: Corruption Watch and Lawyers for Human Rights.Footnote 106 So what has been done to try and combat it through legal governance?

4.2 Legal Governance to Combat Corruption Remains Elusive

While South Africa has a well-developed legal framework aimed at combating corruption in public and private sectors, its capacity to penetrate the spaces of local migration governance – whether at the border posts, at detention centers or in refugee reception offices – has proven to be very elusive.

The major piece of legislation that has sought to accomplish this is the Prevention and Combating of Corrupt Activities Act of 2004. The enforcement of this legislation is in part overseen by the Office of the Public Protector, among other public bodies that can equally investigate allegations of corruption. Moreover, the DHA established a Counter Corruption and Security unit that has sought to work together with other law enforcement agencies. In the White Paper on Home Affairs, the DHA acknowledged that “the poor quality of services and high levels of corruption at the DHA” has provided the impetus for its “Turnaround program” in 2007.Footnote 107 It is to this program that the DHA accredited the improvement of services within the DHA to the citizens of South Africa. However, noticeable changes in the civic services have not been experienced at a comparable level in the immigration services, which falls under the same Ministerial body.

The prevalence of corruption in the local spaces of migration governance appears to be part of a long, institutional history that seems very difficult to break with. It has already been mentioned earlier how the practices at border posts, such as Lebombo have reproduced pre-1994 practices and where the payment of bribes is endemic. A similar situation exists at the Beitbridge border post with Zimbabwe.Footnote 108 At Lindela Center too, extortion and bribery have long been documented by the South African Human Rights Commission and NGOs.Footnote 109 Following revelations of a Commission of Inquiry, in 2019 it was reported that African Global Operation, a facilities management company that had previously operated as Bosasa, had not only paid millions of South African Rands to politicians, government officials and even journalists but had also managed to secure over 12 billion Rands in government contracts, reportedly also based on bribes.Footnote 110 Finally, at Refugee Reception Offices, across the country, bribery, and corruption is endemic.Footnote 111

The 2017 White Paper on International Migration acknowledged this systemic corruption and accordingly sought to establish a new paradigm that might deter the “unacceptable levels of corruption.”Footnote 112 However, it did not explicitly set out any strategy on how the government plans to deal with corruption in the management of international migration.

The government has expressed its hope that streamlining border management under the Border Management Authority Act will help in its fight against systemic corruption, although based on the experiences so far, it is not so clear how this will be accomplished. This has reinforced skepticism among critics of the Border Management Authority Act who argue that the DHA is generally ill-suited to be the lead agency in the Border Management Authority Act and its failure to manage internal corruption will only spread to the new Authority.Footnote 113

Even within Parliament, widespread skepticism over DHA’s competence persists. In a 2021 meeting between DHA officials and the Parliament’s select committee on security and justice, one member was concerned over the “litany of issues of corruption and money irregularities that the department is embroiled in,” in addition to personnel shortages and budgetary constraints.Footnote 114 Accordingly, a number of members “agreed that until the department was able to overcome its current structural and systematic problems, it would not be ready to implement the authority.”Footnote 115 While it may be premature to cast judgement on the effectiveness of the Border Management Authority Act, serious concerns remain as to whether this new intervention will be effective in curbing corruption that is prevalent in South Africa’s migration and border control practices.

5 Conclusion

In reflecting on Valverde’s temporal and spatial scales in relation to the governance of migration policy and border control in South Africa, it is striking to us how the past and present governance of mobility has reproduced apartheid-era forms of arbitrary control as well as the very spaces where South Africa’s highly securitized policies have been enforced for many decades. This is particularly evident in the two formative events highlighted in this chapter, namely, the 2008 wave of xenophobic violence that mirrored racialized violence during the apartheid era and misguided interventions by US government officials that only served to reinforce the racialized culture of enforcement that South Africa has been struggling to rid itself of in its post-1994 liberal constitutional order.

Despite persistent efforts at policy reform, the country’s migration and border control policies not only fall short of South Africa’s constitutional values but also make clear how everyday forms of local governance have far greater traction. The approach of the South African government to migration has reflected a persistent preoccupation with security and control, while failing to tackle widespread xenophobia and endemic corruption. Furthermore, the everyday, racialized forms of governance that persist in local spaces of migration governance – in particular the border posts, Lindela deportation center and refugee reception offices – are systemic and deeply embedded in local norms that were established long ago during the country’s predemocratic period of racialized apartheid policies. Hence, rather than make serious reforms that would represent a true break from its ignominious past, South Africa has been widely criticized for maintaining a border enforcement policy that is outright abusive. Even from a pragmatic standpoint of governance, its policies and everyday forms of governance are evidently counterproductive, not only in light of the country’s profound labor and economic needs but also in relation to South Africa’s aspirations to be a pathbreaker in rights-based governance.

Among the prolific literature that has been produced on this topic over the past twenty years, some have explained South Africa’s restrictive policy, and rising xenophobia as a result of continuities from the previous regime.Footnote 116 Others have specifically pointed to xenophobia in the country as “a stratagem for the retaining of hegemony at a moment marked by fierce labor struggles and an insurgent citizenship of the poor, beyond the reach of neoliberal governance.”Footnote 117

Our analysis not only affirms these earlier analyses but has also taken a different vantage point. Observing how everyday governance operates in both its temporal and spatial dimensions is an unsettling reminder of South Africa’s apartheid past revealing that migration policies and border control practices are very much stuck in the past, with little to no resonance with rights-based principles.

What we can conclude from this analysis of South Africa’s migration and border control enforcement over roughly a twenty-year period is that, unlike other economic blocks where free movement of labor has been encouraged and even a pillar of intergovernmental relations, South Africa has experienced a migration system that is just as rigid and arbitrary than prior to 1994 when there was a two-gates system. In other words, through local measures of everyday legal governance, and despite its extensive constitutional and international human rights commitments, the country has maintained a system of racialized migration governance that is not unlike the forms of racialized labor control of the pre-1994 past.

There is certainly more research to be done. For example, an earlier study by Patrick Bond and others has argued how economic policies in South Africa are directly connected with serious challenges faced in the areas of “migration, and devastating xenophobia against black foreign nationals in South Africa.”Footnote 118 Moreover, as a matter of pragmatism, it is important to critically interrogate how South Africa’s unforgiving approach reveals an unfathomably strong hold to the liberal notions of a nation-state, which in the unreconstructed setting of migration governance, maintains a system characterized by mistreatment and inequalities. More specifically, South Africa’s unreconstructed system of migration enforcement constrains the opportunities that migrants and South Africans alike have to participate in South Africa’s economy. Finally, so far as the current models of migration policy and everyday legal governance are concerned, it is unsettling to see that, at the time of writing, the political party making the greatest progress in South Africa is Action SA, which has been pushing for a radical anti-immigrant agenda.Footnote 119 As a rights-based party, it is hoped that the still-dominant African National Congress party will take the lead in pushing for a truly alternative approach to the migration policies and enforcement that have been experienced since 1994 (and before), governing through persons (with rights) rather than through its current approach of governing through uses. Our contention is that this is likely to lead to more productive outcomes, both socially and economically. Along a similar line, as Landau argues, while steering away from antiforeigner rhetoric, there could be a more deliberate push for local governance solutions “where citizens or ‘locals’ have direct interests.”Footnote 120

Changing the systemic nature of these practices that reflects a pattern of dysfunctionality also requires a fundamental, strategic rethink for migration advocacy organizations. To be more specific, organizations need to not merely mobilize international law in order to amplify the rights of migrants and refugees. Organizations must also disrupt the systemic nature of the current system and find ways of reversing the rigidity of arbitrary and racialized migration and border control policies that are deeply embedded in local norms, yet are having a deeply corrosive impact on both South Africa’s domestic economy and the economy of the sub-region.

4 The “Safe Harbor” of Berlin Socio-Legal Constellations and Complex Strategies of Divergence

Moritz Baumgärtel and Franziska Pett
1 Introduction

In a joint statement in September 2018, the mayors of the German cities of Berlin, Bremen and Hamburg declared that it was their “shared humanitarian duty to do everything to save people from drowning, to bring migrant vessels to safe harbors, and to admit refugees in accordance with European and national asylum rules.”Footnote 1 This municipal declaration, though certainly not the first even in Germany, stood out for being proclaimed by the only three cities that also constitute a state (Land) in the constitutional structure of the Federal Republic of Germany. Explicitly affirming their status as “city-states” (Stadtstaaten), the mayors committed to remaining “engaged in the accommodation and integration of refugees” – though only insofar as these are already admitted to Germany in accordance with agreements that the federal government has made with other EU Member States.Footnote 2 This qualification, while easy to gloss over, hides a larger puzzle when it comes to the actions of local authorities, especially those that enjoy comparably more competencies: Will they use their elevated legal status and the resulting additional discretion confrontationally and in defiance of restrictive national policies, or more subliminally, to exert political influence “softly” or even avoid political debates altogether? Moreover, what are the motives that underpin the approaches that they decide to adopt?

This chapter explores these questions by examining the case study of Berlin and specifically the conduct of its local government following widespread mobilization in Germany calling for increased high sea rescue by a popular social movement known as Seebrücke (in English: “pier”). While Berlin is usually regarded as a supporter having first declared itself a “safe harbor” (sicherer Hafen) and then created the municipal “Cities of Safe Harbors” Alliance, we argue that its role is more nuanced in reality. Building upon theorizations concerning local “strategies of divergence,”Footnote 3 the chapter shows that the local authorities in Berlin deploy multiple and seemingly contradictory strategies that, although challenging restrictive national policies in principle, are guided by distinct strategic considerations, notably including legal ones, rather than only by humanitarian motives. The example of Berlin also highlights the interconnection between strategies and the extent to which legal competencies delineate their outlook.

Looking at the reason behind such “complex” strategies of divergence, this chapter further contends that the approach taken by municipal actors, in this case in Berlin, is shaped fundamentally by the various “socio-legal constellations” that they are confronted with. The introduction of this novel concept allows us to unpack the contextual specificity of municipal strategies in an analytically meaningful way by drawing attention to two sets of factors (and their interplay): first, the interaction of local authorities with civil society actors (here: Seebrücke), which have an influence on both its willingness and political capacity to take certain actions; and second, the legal position of the local government in larger constitutional structures. In concrete terms, Berlin has been able to “prove” its political commitment to Seebrücke by exploiting its hybrid legal status as a “city-state” to file a legal challenge against the national government at the federal level.Footnote 4 This circumstance, in turn, allows the local government to be less forthcoming on the interest of forced migrants in other areas, most notably when it comes to housing.

In a final instance, we discuss how the coexistence of these multiple distinct (yet interrelated) socio-legal constellations confronting cities with specific challenges and opportunities complicates our normative assessment of local authorities “decoupling”Footnote 5 from national policies – and the “local turn”Footnote 6 in migration policy in general. Particularly in the case of legally resourceful cities such as Berlin, scholarship must account for the possibility of municipal approaches that are contradictory and potentially ambiguous in outcome, yet pragmatic from a city’s own perspective, which raises questions about the promise of legally empowering cities in this area.

Before proceeding, we need to clarify the choice of our case study. As the country’s capital and largest city with around 3.7 million inhabitants, Berlin is an “atypical” case to consider for the purpose of identifying and explaining strategies of divergence. It is widely perceived as a cosmopolitan and diverse city of immigration, even if this outlook is arguably rather recent.Footnote 7 While such features are shared by “global cities”Footnote 8 in other countries (making the case study theoretically relevant also for this reason), we are interested in Berlin primarily because of its hybrid legal status. The fact that it is not “just” a municipal entity but also a Land empowers it in a manner that is rare: Constitutional law and practice in Western countries have largely marginalized the potential of cities to address issues of public policy.Footnote 9 The case study of Berlin therefore offers instructive insights on the outlook of strategies of divergence where local authorities’ (presumably) growing appetite for political influence in the domain of migration is somewhat matched by their actual legal position. While we observe that more legal authority does empower cities, the results are not necessarily only positive when viewed from the perspective of migrants and migrant rights defenders.

In terms of methodology, this chapter adopts a socio-legal approach that combines a legal analysis of the demands of German constitutional and administrative law with empirical insights. More specifically, seven semi-structured interviews were conducted during the period between September and November 2020 with municipal representatives in Berlin (and the neighboring city of Potsdam) as well as members of migration advisory councils and the local chapters of Seebrücke. Interviewees were initially selected using a “key informant” sampling method to target the most relevant people in the field, which was followed by “snowball” sampling based on information provided during these first interviews. The purpose of these conversations was to gauge the origins, content, and motivation of Berlin’s strategies of divergence pertaining to sea rescue and refugee admissions, as well as the attitudes held by interviewees concerning these strategies and the considerations that, actually or presumably, lie behind them.

The remainder of this chapter features five more sections, with the next one providing a short background of both the Seebrücke movement, which has sought to mobilize German society in favor of high sea rescue, as well as the “Cities of Safe Harbors” (sichere Häfen) Alliance, co-founded by Berlin. Thereafter, we zoom in on Berlin’s strategies of divergence to highlight the coexistence of multiple, seemingly contradictory strategies in different competency areas. The following section looks at the interaction between the city authorities and the Seebrücke movement, which has its origins in the city and continues to critically appraise Berlin’s actions and motives. Here, we claim that it is the combination of the pressure as exerted by the social movement and the legal authority held by Berlin as a Land that explains the latter’s specific strategic choices to take first legislative, and eventually judicial action against the federal German government. The final substantive section discusses the normative implications of such complex strategies of divergence, where it appears that local authorities navigating differing “socio-legal constellations” leads to ambiguous results from a migrant rights perspective. The conclusion summarizes the findings as well as their relevance for scholarship theorizing the “local turn” in migration policy and proposes avenues for future research.

2 From the Seebrücke Movement to the “Safe Harbor” Alliance

The Seebrücke movement came into being in 2018 after a rescue ship of the organization Lifeline had been prohibited to dock at an Italian harbor, despite having more than 200 rescued migrants on board. A “small circle of activists in Berlin”Footnote 10 used this crisis moment to create a “decentralized, open-source campaign” that achieved nationwide mobilization even of people who had not joined political protests before.Footnote 11 The initiators thus set the direction for the strategic approach that Seebrücke has taken since: In practice, the movement is made up of numerous engaged individuals who become active by protesting and exercising pressure on political actors to change their migration policies. Many of these activists have created local Seebrücke chapters, of which there are currently 180, both in large metropolitan cities like Berlin and in medium-sized and small and rural municipalities.Footnote 12 Deliberately engaging in a “switching of solidarity to the local scale as a tactic in light of the shrinking space of contentious solidarity on both the European and national level,”Footnote 13 Seebrücke has also called on local authorities to publicly declare themselves open to refugees and opposed to the criminalization of high sea rescue. The result has been the initiation of a movement of so-called safe harbors that is composed of 267 cities and towns.Footnote 14 With the EU’s asylum and migration policy prioritizing border control rather than the admission of refugees – and many migrants consequently embarking on dangerous journeys to get to Europe – cities of “safe harbor” argue that they can “take on responsibility” where the German government fails to do so.Footnote 15

In concrete terms, Seebrücke expects local authorities of “safe harbor” cities to make full use of their political resources. Local municipal councils that seek to become safe harbors have to officially declare themselves such. Seebrücke’s further demands from local authorities an active support for maritime rescue, admission of more than required by the established quota, support for admission programs, making sure that people settle into the community, networking on national and European levels, entry into the “Cities of Safe Harbor Alliance,” and transparency in their actions. Since declarations alone leave significant room for symbolic politics that is not followed up with concrete actions, Seebrücke also tracks the progress of cities with criteria that it considers vital for safe harbors. These, as well as Seebrücke’s evaluation of the process, are publicly available online.Footnote 16

2.1 Berlin as a “Safe Harbor”

Discussions about Berlin becoming a safe harbor started in 2018. However, local political actors including parts of the local government brought forward arguments against signing a declaration. According to critics, it was not up to Berlin as a city and even a federal state to decide on these issues but rather to await a nationwide, if not European decision. There also was concern that it would be “presumptuous” for a small city-state of 3.7 million inhabitants to criticize the actions taken at higher levels of government and attempt to change matters that are outside of their legal competencies.Footnote 17 Proponents of a safe harbor declaration responded that such actions would never be taken at a higher level considering that the attitude of the German government leaned more toward deportation than refugee admission or inclusion. Within Berlin’s local government, discussion arose specifically also on whether the adoption of “safe harbor” policies should directly involve Mayor Michael Müller and his office. This was eventually done to underscore the urgency of the issue.Footnote 18 In addition, the open support of the Mayor of Berlin, who is also a member of the Social Democrats (SPD), demonstrated that the safe harbors “project” was widely endorsed and therefore not merely a partisan initiative by the two more left-leaning coalition partners, the Green (Bündnis 90, Die Grüne) and the Left (Die Linke) party.

However, Berlin’s commitment to the cause of Seebrücke and the safe harbor movement goes beyond being one of the first cities to sign a declaration of support. Since 2019, cities that signed declarations have the additional option of joining the inter-city alliance “Cities of Safe Harbors.” Berlin was one of the Alliance’s founding cities, with Mayor Müller opening the inaugural conference in June 2019.Footnote 19 The stated aim of the Alliance is to bring together local authorities around Germany to share capacities and resources to promote bottom-up a migration policy that stands in solidarity with refugees and the movement created by Seebrücke. Furthermore, the Alliance demands that the national government accelerate and deepen its cooperation with municipalities that are willing to welcome refugees. By 2021, the Alliance had grown to over 100 member cities and towns.Footnote 20

3 Multiple, Coexisting, and Complex Strategies of Divergence in Berlin

To be sure, the proactive approach taken by the authorities in Berlin is not unique: Other cities and towns have started similar initiatives, with many even developing comprehensive local policies in the area of refugee reception and inclusion. This holds true not only for German cities of safe harbor but also localities across Europe, leading migration scholars to pivot toward theoretical frameworks of “multilevel governance” that take into account developments at the local level.Footnote 21 Recounting this rich body of literatureFootnote 22 is beyond the scope of this chapter. In addition, these approaches also (even if implicitly) downplay the significance of legal frameworks and questions of legal interpretation in how local authorities come to decide on how they act,Footnote 23 which this chapter identifies as highly relevant. We consequently build on the more specific notion of “strategies of divergence” as introduced by Oomen et al. to analyze in concrete terms how the local government in Berlin inhabits and shapes the “discretionary spaces” that are offered by the applicable legal frameworks.Footnote 24 In fact, we are able to identify multiple such strategies, seemingly contradictory at first glance, which can however be distinguished by reference to the specific competencies that they address.

To recount, Oomen et al. challenge conventional theorizations of multilevel governance as presenting levels as largely static and unchanging. They instead decide to “foreground and classify the strategies that local authorities adopt to make use of and enlarge the discretionary spaces that are offered (or indeed foreclosed) by domestic law.”Footnote 25 The authors differentiate local migration and integration policies that diverge from national ones along two axes: the legal nature of the action in question on the one hand and their explicit or implicit outlook on the other hand. The result is a fourfold typology of strategies of divergence that include defiance (extralegal and explicit), dodging (extralegal and implicit), deviation (legal and explicit), and dilution (legal and implicit). The subsequent paragraphs identify three such strategies in the context of Berlin. While the possibility of their combination is not explicitly discussed by Oomen et al. in their article, their taxonomy is still useful for the purposes of our analysis because it allows us (a) to name and compare the complex heterogenous strategies, which emerge in relation to different legal questions confronting the local authorities and (b) highlight their potential effects, which may target the national and European levels as well.

The first instance of divergence is one of dilution, an implicit and legal practice with which Berlin, in its capacity as a city-state, effectively takes in more forced migrants than assigned. According to Section 45 of the German Asylum Act (Asylgesetz), states are required to admit a certain number of asylum seekers following a yearly preset quota known as the “Königstein key” (Königsteiner Schlüssel).Footnote 26 The implementation of these quotas is tasked to a central distribution agency,Footnote 27 with states being allowed to interfere with the automated mechanism only through “targeted” actions.Footnote 28 More specifically, and according to Section 51, states can decide to disperse asylum seekers for humanitarian reasons, which have been further defined by state representatives in the so-called “Hamburg catalogue”. These encompass, among others, minors older than 16 years whose parents are applying for asylum in a particular state, elderly persons unable to travel, or persons in need of or providing care.Footnote 29 According to Berlin’s State Secretary Tietze, the city has used this instrument “very actively” to go beyond its nationally designated quotas.Footnote 30 In our view, one of the likely pragmatic reasons for this usage is the disproportionate number of asylum seekers arriving in German cities in general,Footnote 31 which necessarily also implies the presence of higher numbers of vulnerable migrants that would fall within the categories set by the “Hamburg catalogue.” However, the regular if not frequent usage of such hardship categories has not received much public attention as online research confirms.Footnote 32 It therefore counts as an instance of dilution where the centrally organized dispersal system is set aside by legal means and implicitly, meaning without the city flagging it, leading to localized results that do not challenge the structure of the national system.Footnote 33

In a second instance, this time related to refugee admission, Berlin opposes the national government more explicitly. The legal question pertains hereby to Section 23(1) of the Residence Act (Aufenthaltsgesetz) allowing states to “order a temporary residence permit to be granted to foreigners from specific states or to certain groups of foreigners.” Importantly, however, the provision also stipulates that “[i]n order to ensure a nationwide uniform approach, the order requires the approval (Einvernehmen) of the Federal Ministry of the Interior.”Footnote 34 In line with the demands by Seebrücke, Berlin took two different types of actions to challenge the requirement for approval by the national authorities. Berlin, joined by the state of Thuringia, put forward an amendment proposal to the Federal Council of Germany (Bundesrat) that would lower the requirement from approval to a mere consultation (Benehmen) of the Federal Ministry of the Interior.Footnote 35 After this proposal was rejected by the Federal Council and its reigning majority of conservatives states, Berlin decided to take further action by filing a case against the national government before the Federal Administrative Court.Footnote 36 The main legal claim, in this context, has been that the approval of such temporary residency permits exists only insofar as it ensures national uniformity, which is however not actually threatened by the actions of a state that holds the capacity to take in more refugees.Footnote 37

Berlin’s actions arguably fall within the category of defiance, designating a strategy of divergence that is explicit and outside the law. For one, Berlin’s Interior Senator Andreas Geisel, after conducting a widely mediatized visit to Greece, took an openly confrontational course in describing the national government’s reluctance to transfer large numbers of people from the burnt-down Moria camp as “embarrassing.”Footnote 38 The legal proceedings, likewise, made national headlines; the parliamentary group of the SPD in the Bundestag even joined Berlin as a plaintiff in March 2021, which was unexpected given that the party was also a part of the national government.Footnote 39 At the same time, it seems appropriate to classify Berlin’s strategy as extralegal, though arguably in a broader sense than proposed by Oomen et al. While not illegal in the sense of already taking ultra vires measures that would entail adjudication of a fait accompli, the State of Berlin defends an interpretation of Section 23(1) of the Residence Act that, judged by the conduct of the federal government and other German states, is not seen as legally permissible, at least until the Federal Administrative Court declares otherwise. This course of action is clearly meant to lead to “a change in the law” that “produce[s] large-scale results.”Footnote 40 It is notable that Berlin’s defiant legal challenge to national frameworks follows an initial push for legal reform, even if these efforts failed in the present case.

Berlin’s hesitancy to use another provision, namely Section 22 of the Residence Act, marks an interesting contrast to this strategy of defiance. This provision offers the possibility to grant admission “for the purpose of admission from abroad in accordance with international law or on urgent humanitarian grounds” – though on an individual basis.Footnote 41 Legal experts assert that local authorities in Berlin could use this basis to facilitate admissions specifically in the case of transfers from the Greek camps because of their inadequate reception conditions.Footnote 42 Likewise, it could be a ground to facilitate family reunifications if read in conjunction with Art. 6 of the German Basic Law, which holds that the family “shall enjoy the special protection of the state.” Civil society representatives interviewed for this chapter criticize Berlin for not using this particular provision and the discretionary space that it offers,Footnote 43 with Berlin’s Refugee Council explicitly demanding such a step in a policy document prepared for the state elections in 2021.Footnote 44

A third strategy of divergence appears in Berlin’s approach to housing those who have reached in the city, which is another key priority identified by Seebrücke under the category “communal arrival.”Footnote 45 Section 47 of the Asylum Act places an obligation on asylum seekers to remain in a reception center until a decision on their application has been made and up to a maximum of eighteen months after their arrival (six months in the case of families).Footnote 46 Interestingly, Berlin in its role as a Land has made use of the broadly discretionary Section 49(2) of the Asylum Act to relieve vulnerable asylum seekers of this obligation.Footnote 47 This policy, which is unique in Germany,Footnote 48 was mentioned as a notable though largely implicit welcoming practice by Berlin’s State Secretary Tietze.Footnote 49 The impact of this strategy of dilution is however limited in practice by the shortage of available affordable housing in Berlin,Footnote 50 due to which most asylum seekers still end up in accommodation provided by the local authorities. This outcome is highly problematic from the perspective of the refugees who arrive: Some of the housing in Berlin as provided by the local authorities is designated as a reception center (in the sense of Section 47 of the Asylum Act) rather than a “collective accommodation” (as established under Section 53), one key difference being that asylum seekers residing in the latter are allowed to work and rent an apartment.Footnote 51 However, in several instances, the designation provided by the local government did not correspond to the narrow definition of a reception center provided in Section 44 of the Asylum Act.Footnote 52 In other words, Berlin’s ostensible dilution strategy, which would have been favorable for migrants, is effectively transformed into an extralegal but implicit strategy of dodging national laws, according to the Berlin Refugee Council for the purposes of deterring migrants.Footnote 53

There are more aspects of Berlin’s local policies (and wider practices) that could have been discussed here; most notably, the question of deportations has loomed large in the city; even the different parties within the local government coalition are not presenting a united front.Footnote 54 However, crucial for our chapter is the insight that within the same locality, there can be multiple and, from the vantage point of migrants and their supporters, contradicting strategies of divergence – as well as the occasional nonusage of discretionary spaces, in Berlin’s case when it comes to Section 22 of the Residence Act. While this is in line with recent scholarship that highlights variance in local policies (as opposed to earlier works that seem to have presumed a more unitary “local dimension”),Footnote 55 we have further been able to show how these strategies can still be classified using the four-fold taxonomy by Oomen et al., which offers us a tool to describe and map them in their heterogeneity.

4 Interaction between the Seebrücke Movement and Berlin’s Local Government

Those familiar with past and present narratives on Berlin as a city might not be surprised to read that Berlin’s “safe harbor” policies are complex, even contradictory. The notion of Berlin as a diverse and cosmopolitan “global city” is rather recent, with urban scholar Stephan Lanz identifying three stages in its urban governance of migration: The notion of a “nationally homogenous city” (from 1871) was replaced first by a “multicultural, differential” dispositive (from 1981) and later, from 2001, by said less nationally focused, more cosmopolitan vision.Footnote 56 Even then, however, “against a backdrop of social polarization and fragmentation processes, exclusionary elitist and racist discourses [have been] on the rise as well,” with historian Paul Nolte and especially former SPD politician Thilo Sarrazin giving these factions a voice from the early 2000s onward.Footnote 57 In short, the outlook of the city (in its broadest sense) has been shaped by discourses that change as the social and urban structures and demographic composition of Berlin themselves evolve – a finding that resonates with scholarship underlining the impact of structural forces such as economic globalization on local approaches to migration governance, including at different scales of governance.Footnote 58 While it is important to keep all of this in mind, our narrower focus on the Berlin’s recent policies concerning the support of sea rescue and the transfer and reception of forced migrants allows us to demonstrate how these are shaped specifically by the interaction between the local government and the Seebrücke movement. It is here, in our view, that we find important explanations for the adoption of the complex set of strategies outlined in Section 3.

To better understand the dynamic between the local authorities and Seebrücke, it is helpful to consider first where the City “stood” at the time when the movement gained traction in 2018. During our interviews, we asked to what extent Berlin was a safe harbor even before signing its declaration – prior engagement toward similar goals would speak in favor of any subsequent strategies genuinely seeking to advocate admitting and integrating refugees. According to State Secretary Tietze, “some formats and part of the demands of initiatives like Seebrücke had already been a part of the government’s agenda during the coalition talks”Footnote 59 in autumn 2016, thus prior to the rise of Seebrücke. This is confirmed by statements made by Berlin’s Mayor Müller in December 2016 that Berlin still had capacities to accept refugees and that “we can perhaps do even more than we have done up to this point.”Footnote 60 It should be noted in this context that Seebrücke with its specific agenda draws on the similar, though somewhat less popular Save Me campaign in Germany in 2008, which sought to establish a permanent refugee admissions program.Footnote 61 Still, the importance of the inclusion of refugees (as well as asylum seekers and persons with exceptional leave to remain) were already flagged in the Senate’s 2007 integration concept, which portrayed diversity “as an asset that shall be fostered by public policy.”Footnote 62

All this evidence points to Berlin having taken a principally progressive approach already prior to the mobilization that led to the safe harbor declaration and the establishment of the Safe Harbor Alliance. A member of Seebrücke, however, takes a more critical perspective:

Berlin always emphasizes that their signature only affirmed what they have already been practicing: a refugee policy based on solidarity. I’m not so sure about that. I believe that there still is much room for improvement. It’s partly symbolic politics to make such a claim about oneself, even though that does not mean that it is totally useless. A clear commitment to taking in people, that is definitely very valuable … But obviously a lot more would have to happen to really fill it with content and to implement it in practice.Footnote 63

Besides offering a more differentiated evaluation, the quote illustrates the ambivalent relationship between local governments, in our case in Berlin, and civil society actors, which could variably be “cooperating, tolerating, or conflicting.”Footnote 64 This stands in contrast to early scholarship on the “local turn” in migration policy that often stressed the collaborative, results-oriented interaction between these actors.Footnote 65 Still, in the case of Berlin and Seebrücke, it even goes beyond Ambrosini’s piercing metaphor of “battleground” of asylum and immigration policy,Footnote 66 which still does not fully capture the story: “allies” and “adversaries” at the same time and depending on the policy question, the two actors’ strategies are both distinct and co-productive. The terrain of the “battleground” is a rather distinctive one, resembling more the volatile and situational interaction of business competitors in a growth market, which find their interest converge and diverge at different moments. At the same time, it represents a strong “bond” in the sense that it generates dynamics with potentially far-reaching consequences such as changing the accepted interpretation of Section 23(1) of the Residence Act, which would elevate the competency of all states, including city-states such as Berlin and allow more autonomous action on refugee admissions. The possibility for such a change adds a concrete dimension to recent studies that, looking at the ambitions behind Berlin’s policies and the mobilization by Seebrücke, have concluded that these “urban solidarities … transcend municipal boundaries.”Footnote 67

It has been pointed out that multilevel governance frameworks have done poorly in integrating the “horizontal” dynamics between state and nonstate actors into their largely “vertical” approach focused on different levels of government.Footnote 68 Not surprisingly, they therefore do not provide enough conceptual material to explain how, even within the same locality and a relatively narrow timeframe (2018–2020), the interaction between local authorities (like the ones in Berlin) and a forceful civil society movement (like Seebrücke) can bring about the complex and partially contradictory set of strategies outlined in Section 3. “Scalar thought” and “multi-scalar” perspectives fare only marginally better. While both Seebrücke and the Safe Harbor Alliance are arguably involved in “a profound transformation in the very logic of governance” that is of “immanently political character” and “embedded … in hierarchies of power,” it is not obvious what is gained analytically by the mere characterization of these specific interactions as a part of “processes of scaling.”Footnote 69

We claim that this theoretical vacuum can be filled (at least partially) by distinguishing various constellations that local authorities find themselves in, which are defined by both social and legal realities – the relevance of latter being worth noting given that they have been frequently sidelined in migration scholarship.Footnote 70 These factors, in their combination, place a local government in different strategic positions vis-à-vis the same civil society actors depending on the issues that are at stake. Furthermore, in their sum and also considering their interplay, these socio-legal constellations allow us to grasp the strategies taken by the local authorities in Berlin in their variance and seeming inconsistency.

What we mean by socio-legal constellations is best illustrated by means of example: In the case of Berlin, the first strategy of divergence that we identified (in Section 3) was one of dilution, with the local authorities invoking “humanitarian reasons” in accordance with Section 51 of the Asylum Act to accept especially vulnerable migrants beyond their designated state (Königsstein) quota. Given that these are mostly refugees that already find themselves in Berlin when these decisions are taken, we observe the pragmatic recognition of the status quo rather than an attempt to change it. This, in turn, reduces the incentives for the local authorities to engage in a substantive public debate on this practice. In such a case, local migrant rights defenders would likely question the progressiveness of the policy and draw attention to the relatively narrow scope of Section 51, whose application is therefore an exception rather than a rule. They would also start scrutinizing the vulnerability categories defined in the “Hamburg catalogue,” which are determined by the representatives of the states (Länder), including Berlin. It should be mentioned here that Seebrücke members are already critical of the selectiveness of the local government, for example, in the context of the state admission program whose legality is currently being assessed in court:

Given the number [of admissions] that is on the table, there is a risk that [the local authorities] will make a very strict selection. In fact, that’s already the case: only unaccompanied minor girls. There aren’t enough of these, and it is absurd! Behind it lies a racist prejudice that Arab and African young man are prone to violence.Footnote 71

Rather than opening Pandora’s Box regarding the application of Section 51 of the Asylum Act, the local authorities thus stick to a dilution strategy. Even during our interview, State Secretary Tietze mentioned the provision but did not elaborate on his claim that the City was using it “very actively.”Footnote 72 One possible reason for this lies in the scope of Section 51, presently appropriately narrow from the point of view of the local authorities, as well as the fact that their – in this context pragmatic – approach does not fully resonate with the principled goals of Seebrücke and other progressive movements.

In the case of the second strategy of divergence, we observe an entirely different socio-legal constellation. Pursuing a defiant approach, Berlin is pushing for a new interpretation of Section 23(1) of the Residence Act, one that would essentially remove the requirement of consent by the federal authorities to adopt state admissions programs. The interests of Berlin’s local authorities and Seebrücke are hereby fully aligned in opposition to the national government and the limitations that, based on Section 23(1), are placed on the city’s admission program. Accordingly, the Seebrücke member who we interviewed was positive about the fact that Berlin used its specific legal status to launch judicial proceedings against the Ministry of the Interior. He even expressed the hope that such open defiance of restrictive national policies would become “a role model” for other cities.Footnote 73 This assessment was made in clear awareness of the inherent limitations of legal action:

The lawsuit is an important step, but it will not lead to a quick solution. The proceedings are intricate and can last for months or years … Well, now they are taking legal action, before, you had the feeling that they are resting on [the argument that], “oh, Seehofer [the Minister of the Interior of the Federal Government] prohibits this,” and thereby releasing themselves from the duty to act themselves.

The last part of the quote illustrates that the decision to take legal action proves to local civil society that Berlin “very much stands up” for the shared goal of creating noncentralized admission programs.Footnote 74 That said, it is analytically significant that the local authorities are using their specific, constitutionally allocated competencies to show their support. This sets them apart from all (but two) other cities in Germany that do not have this option, effectively elevating Berlin’s importance as a strategic partner for Seebrücke. On the flipside, the movement created the political momentum that allowed the City of Berlin to push for this expansion of its competencies through the initial legislative initiative and eventually the legal proceedings, both in full confrontation with the national government. It is also hard to believe that without the mobilization achieved by Seebrücke, the SPD would have joined Berlin as a plaintiff against the national government, of which it was a coalition partner. In short, in this specific socio-legal constellation, the relationship between Berlin and Seebrücke seems almost symbiotic as both could act in ways that they would not be able in the absence of the other.

The previous quote brings up another aspect: As the movement’s stand-in plaintiff, Berlin seems to feel less pressure to take other measures. Notable is yet again the contrast with its nonusage of Section 22 of the Residence Act permitting admissions on an individual basis. This (lack of) action is mentioned by Seebrücke members but does not seem to be as important a factor in their evaluation of the local government’s overall performance, which illustrates how Berlin’s status as a city-state works to its advantage. In general, the highly specific socio-legal constellation arising from the debate on Section 23(1) enables the local government in Berlin to position the city-state as a true champion of admission programs and even as a potential role model for safe harbors when its policies are actually more ambiguous in practice – and the eventual outcome of the legal proceedings uncertain.

Berlin’s third and final strategy (or rather strategies) of divergence arose regarding the question of housing. Here, what in principle appears to be a dilution strategy – using Section 49(2) of the Asylum Act to relieve vulnerable asylum seekers of a duty of residence – turns out to be a dodging of established categories of housing to the detriment of newly arrived refugees and asylum seekers. The fact that the latter runs clearly against Seebrücke’s demand for “communal arrival” explains the implicit nature of the local authorities’ actions in this area. The situation certainly could have been otherwise: academic reports approvingly note the principled decision “[to] consider … the accommodation of vulnerable persons in collective reception centers per se as unreasonable (in derogation from the general principle).”Footnote 75 Were the implementation of this policy not structurally inhibited by Berlin’s pressured housing market – and members of Seebrücke recognize that it is “a city-wide problem that there is not enough affordable housing”Footnote 76 – the local authorities would almost certainly have made their legal yet uniquely progressive reading of Section 49(2) more explicit to buttress Berlin’s standing as a welcoming city. All in all, this example shows how economic factors are also relevant when it comes to the formulation of strategies of divergence, though it is yet again the strong presence of migrant rights supporters and their organizations that is likely at the root of the decision of the local authorities in Berlin to keep their approach to housing questions under wraps.

In conclusion, there is a strong and intimate link between the Seebrücke movement and the strategies of divergence adopted by the local authorities in Berlin. That is in itself not surprising given the immense success of the mobilization, which eventually led to the creation of the Safe Harbors Alliance. However, this section also revealed that the two actors link up in rather different socio-legal constellations, with their interests aligning on some occasions and being at odds in others. These constellations also have an impact on their legal and political capacities. The decision of the City of Berlin to instigate legal proceedings against the federal authorities on the interpretation of Section 23(1) of the Residence Act is closely linked to the rise of Seebrücke in a twofold way: not only does Berlin use its heightened legal capacity (as a city-state) to bring such a case and thus accommodate the demands of the movement, but it also simultaneously benefits from the political momentum created by the latter pushing for state admission programs in Germany and beyond. Given all of this, the metaphor of migration and asylum policy being a “battlefield” only describes an abstract condition where the concrete terrain, alliances and specific tactical decisions are contingent on the specific socio-legal constellations in which local authorities and civil society find themselves.

5 Normative Implications of Complex Strategies of Divergence

One persistent assumption, both in migration scholarship and more generally, is that large, metropolitan cities will be welcoming to migrants. As “global cities”Footnote 77 that are “characterized both by a relatively high scale of migration … and by a growing complexity of diversity,”Footnote 78 they often tend to consider the arrival of newcomers as a given and as desirable, with local authorities being responsible for managing the how, rather than the if, of the phenomenon. Berlin appears to be a typical specimen in this regard, with both the local government and the majority of the population embracing an “urban imaginary”Footnote 79 that considers Berlin to be open to migrants and progressive in the formulation of its policies. The signing the safe harbors declaration was, from this perspective, not just in line with governing policy but arguably inevitable once the political movement initiated by Seebrücke had gained sufficient political momentum. A quote from State Secretary Tietze serves to illustrate this self-image:

It is of course the aspiration of Berlin as a metropole governed by Red-Red-Green [the SPD, the Green and the Left Party] to be open to people in need. And that also means to go beyond your magisterial competencies to give a signal to people in need … [and] to create a ‘safe harbor’ through extraordinary formats in which one can also, by means of state-specific admission programs, set in motion relocation and resettlement.Footnote 80

From this angle, the creation of the Cities of Safe Harbor Alliance can also be interpreted as a measure to stay abreast of the movement. Even if only declaratory in nature, these commitments are as genuine as they are self-speaking, being rooted in the social and political reality typical of many other global cities. Normatively speaking, the example of Berlin thus seems to support arguments for a reorientation of migration policy toward urban, cosmopolitan areas for the purpose of protecting diversity and affirming migrant rights.Footnote 81

That said, our evaluation shows that the picture is more nuanced when it comes to concrete local policymaking and implementation. Some decisions that are favorable to forced migrants (such as the legal proceedings) are flagged while others (such as the regular usage of Section 51 of the Asylum Act) are not; more importantly still, there are policies such as the dodging of established categories of housing for migrants that are straight up dubious from the perspective of migrant rights. To be sure, the theorem that large cities are necessarily more open and welcoming to newcomers has already been challenged on empirical grounds: Particularly when one takes a process perspective, it turns out that “in some cities … the transformation into a superdiverse city is more problematic and accompanied by political upheaval, while in other cities it seems to be a more smooth process.”Footnote 82 Previous research has in fact demonstrated that even local authorities that pioneer progressive reception policies are forced to navigate the “conflicting demands” of stakeholders.Footnote 83 Such pulls in different directions are also palpable in Berlin, where the cosmopolitan imaginary is arguably still recent and subject to contestation.Footnote 84 In our interviews, local civil society members likewise suggested that the local government in Berlin will seek to “accommodate … different constituencies” by adopting varying approaches to different policy questions.Footnote 85 Taken by itself, this insight would not be as normatively problematic considering that conflict seems unavoidable in a city as large and diverse as Berlin – as long as the general trend, in spite of setbacks, points to an increasingly welcome and open attitude.

Still, our specific findings lead us to take a more skeptical attitude. With multiple policies co-existing simultaneously, it becomes even more pressing to question the reasons behind the discrepancy between the “overarching discourse” and “actual policy practices,” a finding also made by Hoekstra in her study of local migration policies in The Hague and Amsterdam.Footnote 86 Hoekstra’s explanation is that “policy actors locate difference … unevenly across spatial scales, urban areas, and population groups,” which leads her to emphasize that “municipal policy actors make sense of difference in relation to the urban context.”Footnote 87 While this is a generally sensible interpretation also of the situation in Berlin, our findings suggest that policy practice may be less “fragmented”Footnote 88 than it first appears. Although seemingly contradictory strategies of divergence are rooted in various socio-legal constellations, there are good reasons to believe that they still form part of a wider whole; at the very least, evidence demands us to consider their interrelation. Based on its interaction with its constituencies and especially the Seebrücke movement, the local government in Berlin decided to defy the national government on the question of state admission program but kept a relatively low profile in diluting national quotas through “beyond quota” admission of vulnerable migrants who are already present. Not only is the prior better suited to show support with the Seebrücke movement (which, after all, pushes for systemic change to introduce local-level admissions), but it also enables Berlin to divert attention away from legal categories of vulnerability that could, in principle, be expanded. What is more, the preponderance of questions of legal interpretation renders both these strategic actions and their interrelation concrete: They require the involvement of the same legal officers and departments. Indeed, as State Secretary Tietze revealed during our interview (which took place shortly prior to the launching of the court proceedings), the possibility of taking legal recourse was undergoing a process of “internal review,” the question being “what the better way is to lead this contest also legally speaking.”Footnote 89

Taken in isolation, our observation that Berlin’s approach is reflective of (rather than evidence against) deliberateness on the part of the local authorities could be perceived positively if reactive, ad hoc decision-making is the alternative. At the same time, much has been made in the past of the “pragmatic problem-coping” character of local governments as one of the reasons behind “the emergence of inclusionary local immigration policies in the context of restrictive national immigration policies.”Footnote 90 The example of Berlin shows that this dichotomy is not helpful: While clearly adjusting their responses to particular socio-legal constellations as they present themselves, the combination of the strategies still forms what can be seen as a coherent whole. Put differently, deploying a complex set of strategies of divergence represents a pragmatic approach from the perspective of the local government. Echoing Hoekstra’s claim that “the notion of pragmatism … should be unpacked,”Footnote 91 we must then ask what the normative consequences are. Our analysis in Section 3 shows that our view of pragmatism as strategic deliberativeness does not necessarily entail only positive outcomes from the perspective of forced migrants. Even in the “global city” of Berlin, socio-legal constellations lead the local authorities to adopt a set of strategies that generally resonates with local migrant rights supporters but also retains significant gaps in protection. While “urban imaginaries” existing within a city certainly matter, practical outcomes are thus also shaped by the opportunities that present themselves to city governments, with the symbolically most rewarding options not necessarily being the ones that are most beneficial for migrant populations.

One final normative aspect that arises from our analysis concerns the question of the legal competencies of local authorities. More specifically, given that “[i]ssues of immigrant settlement and integration … tend to bear more directly on cities than on the countryside,”Footnote 92 should cities such as Berlin be legally empowered? While we still believe that such empowerment would overall be favorable for forced migrants, our case study does caution against overly firm normative conclusions. On the one hand, we find that even Berlin, a city-state with significantly more legal powers compared to other German cities, still adopts complex strategies of divergence with ambivalent outcomes. Providing further legal competencies for local authorities does not, therefore, necessarily improve the situation of forced migrants. While this might not be too surprising of a finding, it is still striking in the case of Berlin, where the overall context seems particularly favorable for migrants: a legally resourceful city governed by a center-left/left coalition that is also experiencing social and political tailwind, in the form of the Seebrücke movement, for its principally cosmopolitan and inclusive orientation. On the other hand, had the city-state of Berlin more competencies, most notably to introduce a state admission program, no high-profile legal action would have to be launched against the national government – this would open up the space to discuss other relevant questions, such as Berlin’s housing policies or the scope of vulnerability criteria. The legal fight over competencies thus stifles the emergence of other debates that could be meaningful for the practical enjoyment of migrant rights, but possibly also more troublesome from the municipality’s perspective. Strikingly, this downside of formal debates concerning the scope of legal authority echoes issues that have arisen in the United States in the context of sanctuary policies.Footnote 93

6 Conclusion

Berlin, a cosmopolitan “global city” located in the heart of Europe, has the reputation of being open and welcoming to refugees. This was true already prior to 2018, marking the arrival of the Seebrücke movement, which has stood up for increased sea rescue and human rights-compliant policies based on direct admission to cities and towns. Since then, the local authorities in Berlin continue to be perceived as supportive of this mobilization – and plausibly so, having publicly declared the German capital a “safe harbor” that would be willing to host stranded refugees, and even creating the Cities of Safe Harbor Alliance, which rallies over 100 German cities and towns in solidarity with Seebrücke and the refugees the movement seeks to protect.

This being said, our chapter shows that is worthwhile to take a closer look at the strategies that Berlin has adopted in practice. Even within the narrow timeframe of our study focusing on the three years following the rise of Seebrücke, we find that Berlin adopts multiple, at first glance contradictory strategies to diverge from the restrictive policies of the national government. More specifically, using the conceptual framework by Oomen et al., we were able to identify the coexistence of strategies of defiance, dilution and dodging, as well as inaction, on different policy questions. Berlin’s authorities are defiant insofar as state admission programs are concerned, initiating first legislative and then legal proceedings to get rid of the legal requirement of obtaining prior consent from the national government. By contrast, the local government does not make use of another legal basis in the same Residence Act to proceed with transfers on an individual basis. Dilution and dodging strategies can be found when it comes to providing accommodation for refugees: The City does not flag its decision, although unique among all German states, to dispense vulnerable refugees of a duty of residence. Its implicit strategy can be understood against the backdrop of pressures in the housing market and the fact that in practice, many refugees still end up in reception centers that are wrongly designated as such, thereby barring its inhabitants from work or looking for private accommodation. In short, the actual approach taken by the municipality in Berlin is much more complex and indeed ambivalent for migrants than its vocal support for Seebrücke would suggest.

To explain the existence of these complex strategies of divergence, we referred to the multitude of “socio-legal constellations” in which they arise. Particularly in a context where the rise of the Seebrücke movement has given rise to considerable civil society pressure, the local government in Berlin finds itself in various rather specific strategic positions as shaped by legal and social realities. Most notably, its legal status as a city-state enables it to file legal proceedings against the national government on the question of state admissions programs. This puts it in an almost symbiotic relationship with Seebrücke, which has achieved considerable political mobilization for this point. By contrast, the local authorities have little to show but much to lose were the issue of housing to gain greater salience among migrant rights supporters. Importantly, those differing socio-legal constellations should be considered in their interplay, with the decision to launch openly defiant legal proceedings dampening at least some of the pressure that Berlin could face on other fronts, such as on housing. Having identified both the strategies of divergence and the socio-legal constellations that underlie them, we finally cautioned against normative perspectives that all too quickly embrace legal empowerment of cosmopolitan cities such as Berlin as a silver bullet to securing the rights of refugees and other forced migrants. While it is true that their urban imaginaries are mostly pro-migrant, the example of Berlin demonstrates that local authorities may find ways to position themselves within such a frame while also pursuing policies that are not congruent with it. Whether or not legal empowerment would diminish such ambivalent strategies is an open question; the fact that the city-state of Berlin already enjoys relatively more constitutional powers as compared to other German cities renders us at least somewhat skeptical in this regard.

Having considered only one case study, our findings would have to be tested in other contexts, both in and outside Germany, and in large as well as medium-sized and small cities. We would hypothesize that strategies of divergence are more likely to be fractured and complex in large and especially in legally resourceful cities that face a greater variety of socio-legal constellations. That said, our framework would place any strategy of divergence, even a “singular” one adopted by a smaller town, within a particular socio-legal constellation. More empirical case studies and comparisons are needed to further delineate the relation between strategies of divergence and socio-legal constellations: Ideally, the taxonomy of the former should be matched by a separate set of categories of the latter. If we reach a better understanding of the prevalence of particular socio-legal constellations and the strategies of divergence that they produce, we would also be able to draw firmer normative conclusions as to whether greater involvement of cities and other subnational authorities in migration is desirable at the end of the day.

Footnotes

2 Crimmigration and Crossover Youth The Deportation of Former Wards of the State

* Assistant Professor, Faculty of Law, University of New Brunswick. The author thanks Judith Resnik, Moritz Baumgärtel, and Sara Miellet, workshop participants at the Law & Society Association annual meeting, and the anonymous peer reviewer for their helpful comments on drafts of this chapter. The author was legal counsel to Mr. Abdoul Abdi who was the applicant in one of the case studies in this chapter.

1 Canada (Minister of Employment and Immigration) v. Chiarelli [1992] 1 SCR 711.

2 Bourbeau, “Detention and Immigration”; Menjívar et al., “The Expansion of ‘Crimmigration,’ Mass Detention, and Deportation”; Stumpf, “The Process Is the Punishment in Crimmigration Law”; Aiken et al., “Crimmigration, Surveillance and Security Threats”.

3 Macklin, “Citizenship Revocation, the Privilege to Have Rights and the Production of the Alien”.

4 Varsanyi et al., “A Multilayered Jurisdictional Patchwork”.

5 Resnik, “Within Its Jurisdiction”, p. 119.

6 Armenta, “Racializing Crimmigration”; Armenta and Alvarez, “Policing Immigrants or Policing Immigration?”; Provine and Doty, “The Criminalization of Immigrants as a Racial Project”; Stuart et al., “Legal Control of Marginal Groups”; Varsanyi, “Immigration Policing through the Backdoor”.

7 Bauder and Gonzalez, “Municipal Responses to ‘Illegality’”.

8 Coleman, “The ‘Local’ Migration State”; Chavez and Provine, “Race and the Response of State Legislatures to Unauthorized Immigrants”.

9 Varsanyi, “Interrogating ‘Urban Citizenship’ vis-à-vis Undocumented Migration”, p. 244.

10 Spiro, “Formalizing Local Citizenship”; Villazor, “Sanctuary Cities and Local Citizenship”; Motomura, “Immigration Outside the Law”.

11 Flores and Schachter, “Examining Americans’ Stereotypes about Immigrant Illegality”; Flores and Schachter, “Who Are the ‘Illegals’?”.

12 Ellermann, “Discrimination in Migration and Citizenship”.

13 Ellermann, “Street-Level Democracy”.

14 Nicholls, The DREAMers; Olivas, Perchance to DREAM.

15 Finlay et al., Cross-Over Youth Project; Bala et al., “Child Welfare Adolescents & the Youth Justice System”; Bromwich, “Cross-Over Youth and Youth Criminal Justice Act Evidence Law”.

16 Citizenship Act, R.S.C. 1985, c. C-29, s. 22.

17 Immigration and Refugee Protection Act, S.C. 2001, c. 27, s. 36(3)(e).

18 Ibid., s. 36.

19 Herz et al., “Challenges Facing Crossover Youth”; Cho and Lee, “Childhood Maltreatment and Repeat Offending in Juvenile Delinquents”; Guarnaccia et al., “Links between Adverse Childhood Experiences, Psychopathological Symptoms and Recidivism Risk in Juvenile Delinquents”; Robertson and Walker, “Predictors of Justice System Involvement”.

20 Pinderhughes et al., “Youth of Color in Care”; Boyd, “Individual Consequences of Racial Disproportionality and Disparities”; Bergen and Abji, “Facilitating the Carceral Pipeline”.

21 Çağlar and Glick Schiller, Migrants and City-Making.

22 Ibid.

23 Ibid., pp. 20–21.

24 Citizenship Act, R.S.C. 1985, c. C-29, s. 22.

25 Statistics Canada, Immigration and Ethnocultural Diversity.

26 Smith and Guarnizo, “Global Mobility, Shifting Borders and Urban Citizenship”, p. 614.

27 Kaufmann, “Comparing Urban Citizenship, Sanctuary Cities, Local Bureaucratic Membership, and Regularizations”, p. 443.

28 London (City) v. RSJ Holdings Co. Ltd. 2007 SCC 29, para. 37.

29 Rodriguez, “The Significance of the Local in Immigration Regulation”; Motomura, “Immigration Outside the Law”.

30 Hare, “Newcomer, Immigration, and Settlement Sectors”, p. 65.

31 Ibid.

32 Ibid.

33 Bergen and Abji, “Facilitating the Carceral Pipeline”; Nath, “Curated Hostilities and the Story of Abdoul Abdi”.

34 Maynard, Policing Black Lives; Inniss, “Toward a Sui Generis View of Black Rights in Canada”.

35 Zaman, “Racialization and Marginalization of Immigrants”.

36 Bashi, “Globalized Anti-blackness”; Aiken, “From Slavery to Expulsion”; Johnston, The Voyage of the Komagata Maru.

37 Ontario Association of Children’s Aid Societies, “Race Matters in the Child Welfare System”; Ontario Human Rights Commission, Interrupted Childhoods; Contenta et al., “CAS Study Reveals Stark Racial Disparities for Blacks, Aboriginals”.

38 Bryan and Denov, “Separated Refugee Children in Canada”.

39 Bergen and Abji, “Facilitating the Carceral Pipeline”, p. 43.

40 Netto, The Social Fabric of Cities.

41 Smith and Guarnizo, “Global Mobility, Shifting Borders and Urban Citizenship”.

42 Bhuyan and Smith-Carrier, “Constructions of Migrant Rights in Canada”, p. 217.

43 Spiro, “Formalizing Local Citizenship”, p. 560; Villazor, “Sanctuary Cities and Local Citizenship”, p. 576.

44 Motomura, “Immigration Outside the Law”, p. 209.

45 Kaufmann, “Comparing Urban Citizenship, Sanctuary Cities, Local Bureaucratic Membership, and Regularizations”, p. 444.

46 Çağlar and Glick Schiller, Migrants and City-Making.

47 Rainer Baubock, “Reinventing Urban Citizenship”, p. 157.

48 Çağlar and Glick Schiller, Migrants and City-Making.

49 Nyers and Rygiel, Citizenship, Migrant Activism and the Politics of Movement.

50 Smith and Guarnizo, “Global Mobility, Shifting Borders and Urban Citizenship”, pp. 619–20.

51 Wright et al., “Responding to Crossover Youth: A Look Beyond Recidivism Outcomes”; Walsh and Jaggers, “Addressing the Needs Crossover Youth”; Gharabaghi, A Hard Place to Call Home.

52 Citizenship Act, R.S.C. 1985, c. C-29, s. 5.

53 Ibid.

54 Immigration and Refugee Protection Act, S.C. 2001, c. 27, ss. 33–53.

55 Abdi v. Canada (Public Safety and Emergency Preparedness) 2018 FC 733; Keung, “At the UN’s Request, Canada Suspends Deportation of Former Child Refugee to Somalia”.

56 Abdi v. Canada (Public Safety and Emergency Preparedness) 2018 FC 733, para. 13.

57 Abdi v. Canada (Public Safety and Emergency Preparedness) 2018 FC 733; Keung, “At the UN’s Request, Canada Suspends Deportation of Former Child Refugee to Somalia”.

58 Abdi v. Canada (Public Safety and Emergency Preparedness) 2018 FC 733, para. 12.

59 Abdi v. Canada (Public Safety and Emergency Preparedness) 2018 FC 733.

60 Keung, “At the UN’s Request, Canada Suspends Deportation of Former Child Refugee to Somalia”.

61 Muscati and Macklin, “Abdoul Abdi Case: A Test of Canada’s Commitment to Rules and Compassion”.

62 Maynard, “Black Life and Death across the U.S.-Canada Border”.

63 Nath, “Curated Hostilities and the Story of Abdoul Abdi”, p. 12.

64 Canadian Press, “Abdoul Abdi Relieved Federal Government Won’t Pursue Deportation, Lawyer Says”.

65 Liss, “Right to Belong”.

66 Ibid.

67 Snidermanm, “Jama Warsame Is a Citizen of Nowhere”.

68 Faster Removal of Foreign Criminals Act, S.C. 2013, c. 16.

69 Medovarski v. Canada (Minister of Citizenship and Immigration) 2005 SCC 51, para. 10.

70 Macklin, “Citizenship Revocation, the Privilege to Have Rights and the Production of the Alien”.

71 Tran v. Canada (Public Safety and Emergency Preparedness) 2017 SCC 50, para. 6.

72 Cha v. Canada (Minister of Citizenship and Immigration) 2006 FCA 126, para. 22.

73 Nath, “Curated Hostilities and the Story of Abdoul Abdi”, p. 12.

74 Abdi v. Canada (Public Safety and Emergency Preparedness) 2018 FC 733, para. 87.

75 Alberta v. Elder Advocates of Alberta Society 2011 SCC 24 (2011), para. 22.

76 Rotman, “Understanding Fiduciary Duties and Relationship Fiduciarity”, p. 988.

77 Alberta v. Elder Advocates of Alberta Society 2011 SCC 24, paras. 29–34.

78 Rotman, “Understanding Fiduciary Duties”, p. 988.

79 Alberta v. Elder Advocates of Alberta Society 2011 SCC 24, para. 37.

80 Aho, “Equitable Compensation as a Tool for Reconciliation”; Chamberlain, “The Crown’s Fiduciary Duties to Aboriginal Peoples as an Aspect of Climate Justice”.

81 M.(K.) v. M.(H.) [1992] 3 SCR 6, para. 62.

82 Scott and Chen, “Fiduciary Principles in Family Law”; Kerr v. Baranow 2011 SCC 10, para. 208.

83 M.(K.) v. M.(H.) [1992] 3 SCR 6, para. 63.

84 M.M. v. R.F. (1997) 52 BCLR (3d) 127, 1997 CanLII 14477 (CA), para. 46; M.(K.) v. M.(H.) [1992] 3 SCR 6, paras. 61–62; R. A. v. J.M. 2013 ONSC 5439, paras. 22–28.

85 Syl Apps Secure Treatment Centre v. B.D. 2007 SCC 38, para. 41.

86 K.L.B. v. British Columbia 2003 SCC 51.

87 E.D.G. v. Hammer 2003 SCC 52, para. 23.

88 Papassay v. The Queen (Ontario) 2015 ONSC 3438, para. 3.

89 Ibid., para. 75.

90 T.L. v. British Columbia (Children and Family Development) 2020 BCSC 1728.

91 Ibid., para. 14.

92 Gallant, “Lawsuit Accuses Ontario Government of Leaving Foreign-Born Crown Wards in the Lurch”.

93 Frame v. Smith [1987] 2 SCR 99, para. 149.

94 Part I of the Constitution Act, 1982, being Schedule B to the Canada Act 1982 (UK), 1982, c. 11.

95 Kahkewistahaw First Nation v. Taypotat 2015 SCC 30, paras. 19–20.

96 Ibid., para. 20.

97 Abdi v. Canada (Public Safety and Emergency Preparedness) 2018 FC 733, para. 87.

98 Ibid., para. 94.

99 Citizenship Act, R.S.C. 1985, c. C-29, ss. 5, 5.1, 22.

100 Ibid., s. 5.

101 Part I of the Constitution Act, 1982, being Schedule B to the Canada Act 1982 (UK), 1982, c 11.

102 Perryman, “Adducing Social Science Evidence in Constitutional Cases’’.

103 Abdi v. Canada (Public Safety and Emergency Preparedness) 2018 FC 733, para. 42.

3 From Control to Deterrence Assessing Border Enforcement in South Africa

1 Cawthra, Policing South Africa, p. 1.

2 Handmaker and Singh, “Crossing Borders.”

3 As observed by Crush, “Covert Operations,” long before South Africa’s democratic elections in 1994, entry into the country was through what Crush termed “two gates,” namely formal entry into the country by way of the Aliens Control Act, and various bi-lateral treaties between South Africa and neighboring countries to govern the mobility of temporary migrant workers in the country’s highly profitable mining and agricultural industries.

4 Seda, Border Governance in Mozambique, p. 62; Johnstone and Simbine, “The Usual Victims,” p. 170.

5 Minnaar and Hough, Who Goes There?

6 Crush, “The Discourse and Dimensions of Irregularity.”

7 Handmaker, “No Easy Walk,” p. 94.

8 The first of two large research projects on migration in South(ern) Africa has been the Southern African Migration Project, a joint project between Queens University in Canada and the Institute for Democracy in South Africa, which produced a large number of qualitative surveys from the mid-1990s. Later, from the 2000s, the African Centre for Migration and Society (based at the University of the Witwatersrand) produced methodologically driven, larger-sample surveys and analyses, including with regard to xenophobia in the country.

9 Valverde, “Taking Land Use Seriously.”

10 Valverde, “Practices of Citizenship and Scales of Governance.”

11 Ibid., p. 231.

12 Valverde, “Taking Land Use Seriously,” p. 35.

13 Ibid., p. 55.

14 Crush, “The Discourse and Dimensions of Irregularity.”

15 Crush, “Apartheid’s Last Act?”

16 Perbedy and Crush, “Invisible Trade, Invisible Travellers.”

17 Kotzé and Hill, “Emergent Migration Policy,” p. 20.

18 South African Human Rights Commission, “Illegal,” Handmaker and Parsley, “Migration, Refugees and Racism.”

19 Danso and McDonald, “Writing Xenophobia,” p. 124.

20 Crush, “The Discourse and Dimensions of Irregularity.”

21 Statistics South Africa, “Documented Immigrants in South Africa.”

22 Government of South Africa, White Paper on International Migration, p. 27.

23 Mthembu-Salter et al., “Counting the Cost of Securitising South Africa’s Immigration Regime,” p. 6.

24 Ibid.

25 As Hlophe, “Ouster Clauses: Meaning and Effect” explains on p. 371, the justification for legal provisions that disallowed a judge from reviewing the reasonableness of a decision taken by a government official – including an immigration official – was that to do so “would require the executive to disclose confidential information that might endanger national security,” a provision that was broadly interpreted by the judges at the time who routinely gave deference to the executive.

26 South African Human Rights Commission, “Illegal,” p. 14.

27 Immigration Act, 2002: sections 3(1)(g) & 1 (xviii).

28 Ibid., section 29.

29 Ibid., section 30(1).

30 Mfubu, “Prohibited and Undesirable Persons,” p. 182.

31 Lawyers for Human Rights v Minister of Home Affairs & Others (CCT38/16) [2017] ZACC 22.

32 Handmaker, “Who Determines Policy?” and Amit, “Winning Isn’t Everything.”

33 Lawyers for Human Rights, Monitoring Policy, 31–38.

34 Scalabrini Centre, Cape Town and Others v Minister of Home Affairs and Others [2017] 1107/2016, ZASCA; The Minister of Home Affairs and Others v Scalabrini Centre, Cape Town and Others [2017] 279/17, ZACCT; Minister of Home Affairs and Others v Somali Association of South Africa and Another [2015] 831/13, ZASCA; Minister of Home Affairs and Others v Somali Association of South Africa and Another [2015] 67/2015, ZACCT.

35 Johnson, “Constructing and Contesting State-urban Borders.”

36 Vigneswaran, “The Complex Sources of Immigration Control,” p. 8.

37 Department of Home Affairs, “Annual Report 2018–19,” p. 104.

38 Ibid.

39 Government of South Africa, White Paper on International Migration, p. 30.

40 Van Lennep, “Migration III: Interpreting the Data.”

41 Government of South Africa, White Paper on International Migration.

42 Amit, “Breaking the Law: Breaking the Bank”, pp. 27–39.

43 Lawyers for Human Rights, “Open Letter to President Ramaphosa on World Refugee Day,” 20 June 2018; Lawyers for Human Rights, Monitoring Policy pp. 11, 31.

44 Valverde, “Practices of Citizenship and Scales of Governance,” p. 226.

45 Handmaker and Parsley, “Migration, Refugees & Racism in South Africa.”

46 South African Human Rights Commission, “Illegal”; The Star, “Police Assault South African Mistaken for Illegal Immigrant,” 11 March 2001.

47 Handmaker, “Stop Treating People Unjustly”; Human Rights Watch, Prohibited Persons; Handmaker and Parsley, “Migration, Refugees and Racism.”

48 Handmaker and Parsley, “Migration, Refugees and Racism,”p. 40.

49 Handmaker, “Stop Treating People Unjustly.”

50 Lawyers for Human Rights, Monitoring Policy.

51 Handmaker, “Who Determines Policy,” p. 295.

52 Landau, “Loving the Alien”; Tewolde, “Am I Black, Am I Coloured, Am I Indian?.”

53 Handmaker and Parsley, “Migration, Refugees and Racism.”

54 See Freedom of Expression Institute, “Is the Media Contributing to South African Xenophobia?” and Danso and McDonald, “Writing Xenophobia.”

55 Statistics South Africa, “Census 2011,” p. 16.

56 Ibid., p. 128.

57 Smith, “Violence, Xenophobia and the Media.”

58 Landau et al., “Xenophobia in South Africa”; Dodson, “Locating Xenophobia”; Everatt, Xenophobia, State and Society”; Crush and Ramchandaran, “Migrant Entrepreneurship”; Oatway and Skuy, “Documenting Violence Against Migrants in South Africa.”

59 Landau, “Introducing the Demons,” p. 8.

60 Ibid. For a detailed discussion on policy and legislative changes, see Handmaker and Nalule, “Border Enforcement Policies and Reforms.”

61 Valverde, “Practices of Citizenship and Scales of Governance,” p. 235.

62 Immigration Amendment Act, 2011, section 23.

63 Ibid., section 16.

64 Southern African Development Cooperation, Protocol on the Facilitation of Free Movement of Persons.

65 Immigration Act, 2002, section 31(2)(b).

66 Crush and Tshitereke, “Contesting Migrancy.”

67 Human Rights Watch, “Crossing the Line,” and Human Rights Watch, Slipping Through the Cracks.

68 Sunday Independent, “US to Lend a Hand in SA’s Fight Against Illegal Aliens.”

69 Immigration and Naturalization Service, South African Border Assessment, p. 2.

70 Ibid., p. 2.

71 Ibid., p. 12.

72 Ibid., p. 4.

73 Ibid., p. 7.

74 Ibid., p. 8.

75 Ibid., p. 12.

76 Operational Working Team on Border Control, Border Control Collective Approach.

77 Grobler, “Collective Approach to Border Control: Policing and Refugees,” p. 73.

78 Operational Working Team on Border Control, Border Control Collective Approach, pp. 10–11.

79 Ibid., p. 15.

80 Perbedy and Crush, “Invisible Trade, Invisible Travellers,” p. 121.

81 McMichael, “The Re-militarisation of South Africa’s Borders.”

82 Heitman, “SANDF Personnel Strength.”

83 Parliamentary Monitoring Group, Border Control: Briefing by Chief of Joint Operations.

84 Murdza and Ewing, The Legacy of Racism within the U.S. Border Patrol.

85 Valverde, “Taking Land Use Seriously,” p. 38.

86 Klaaren and Ramji, “Inside Illegality,” pp. 36–37.

87 Alfaro-Velcamp and Shaw, “Criminalising Immigrants in South Africa.”

88 Valverde, “Practices of Citizenship and Scales of Governance,” p. 217. Other authors, such as Stumpf, “The Crimmigration Crisis” and Hernández, Crimmigration Law have characterized the criminalization of immigration control as crimmigration.

89 Valverde, “Practices of Citizenship and Scales of Governance,” p. 217.

90 Vigneswaran, “Enduring Territoriality,” p. 797.

91 Ibid.

92 Vigneswaran, “The Complex Sources of Immigration Control.”

93 Van Lennep, “Lindela and South Africa’s Defective Deportation Regime.”

94 Vigneswaran et al., “Criminality or Monopoly?” p. 477–479; Smith, “South Africa Faces Human Rights Backlash”; Brock, “In South Africa, Immigration Feeds Corrupt Officials.”

95 Steinberg in Vigneswaran, “Enduring Territoriality,” p. 798.

96 Vigneswaran, “Enduring Territoriality,” p. 796.

97 Amit, “Queue Here for Corruption.”

98 Frankel, “The Politics of Police Control,” p. 487.

99 Lodge, “Political Corruption in South Africa,” p. 171.

100 Amit, “Queue Here for Corruption.”

101 Vigneswaran et al., “Criminality or Monopoly?,” p. 471.

102 Ibid., p. 472.

103 This information was contained in an email exchange dated 2 December 2020 between Nalule and an ethnographic doctoral researcher whose research was conducted at the Beitbridge border, and nearby Musina town in South Africa.

104 Vigneswaran et al., “Criminality or Monopoly,” p. 472.

105 Amit, “Queue Here for Corruption.”

106 Corruption Watch, Asylum at a Price; Lawyers for Human Rights, Costly Protection.

107 Department of Home Affairs, “White Paper on Home Affairs.”

108 Peyper, “Tempers Flare as Bribes Block Border Crossing Between SA and Zimbabwe.”

109 South African Human Rights Commission, “Illegal.”

110 Bornman, “How Lindela Became Bosasa’s Meal Ticket.”

111 Amit, “Queue Here for Corruption.”

112 Government of South Africa, White Paper on International Migration, p. 72.

113 Maunganidze and Mboyizo, “South Africa’s Border Management Authority Dream Could Be a Nightmare.”

114 Gilili, “Home Affairs Vows to Speed up Border Management Authority.”

115 Ibid.

116 Klotz, “Migration after Apartheid.”

117 Schierup, “Under the Rainbow,” p. 1052.

118 Bond and Ruiters, “Uneven Development and Scale Politics in Southern Africa,” p. 178.

119 Felix, “The Enemy Is Not Foreigners.”

120 Landau, “Wither Policy?”

4 The “Safe Harbor” of Berlin Socio-Legal Constellations and Complex Strategies of Divergence

1 Senatskanzlei, “Stadtstaaten bleiben sichere Häfen für Flüchtlinge” (our translation).

2 Ibid.

3 Oomen et al., “Strategies of Divergence.”

4 “Berlin klagt gegen Seehofer im Streit um Flüchtlingsaufnahme.”

5 Scholten, “Agenda Dynamics and the Multi-Level Governance of Intractable Policy Controversies.”

6 Zapata-Barrero et al., “Theorizing the ‘Local Turn’ in a Multi-Level Governance Framework of Analysis.”

7 Lanz, “Berlin oder Das umkämpfte Terrain der Einwanderungsstadt.”

8 Sassen, The Global City.

9 Hirschl, City, State.

10 Schwiertz and Steinhilper, “Countering the Asylum Paradox through Strategic Humanitarianism,” p. 208.

11 Schwiertz and Keß, “Safe Harbours: The Cities Defying the EU to Welcome Migrants.”

12 Seebrücke thus represents at the same time a grass-roots social movement as well as a civil society actor with an organizational structure. While we are mindful of the differences and even tensions that exist between the two concepts (see, e.g., De Bakker et al., “Social Movements, Civil Society and Corporations”), we still use both terms to refer to Seebrücke, which seems appropriate both in this case and for the purposes of this chapter.

13 Fischer and Jørgensen, “Scale-Switching as a Response to a Shrinking Space for Solidarity,” p. 157.

14 Seebrücke, “267 Sichere Häfen.”

15 Ibid.

16 Ibid.

17 Interview with the Secretary of State for Integration in Berlin, conducted on September 7, 2020 (our translation).

18 Ibid.

19 Senatskanzlei, “Michael Müller eröffnete Kongress ‚Städte zu sicheren Häfen‘ der Initiative Seebrücke.”

20 Stadt Potsdam, “Städte Sicherer Häfen: Die Mitglieder.”

21 See introduction to this volume.

22 For an overview of this body of work, see Caponio, Scholten and Zapata-Barrero (eds.), The Routledge Handbook of the Governance of Migration and Diversity in Cities.

23 See Baumgärtel and Miellet, introduction to this volume.

24 Oomen et al., “Strategies of Divergence.”

25 Ibid., p. 3609.

26 For a description of the key as well as its genesis, see Bartl, “Institutionalization of a Formalized Intergovernmental Transfer Scheme for Asylum Seekers in Germany.”

27 Section 46(2), Asylum Act (AsylG), promulgated on 2 September 2008 (Federal Law Gazette I, p. 1798), last amended by Article 2 of the Act of 11 March 2016 (Federal Law Gazette I, p. 394). The application of the distribution key falls on the Federal Office for Migration and Refugees (BAMF), which executes it through the usage of a computer-based system commonly known under the acronym “EASY” (Erstverteilung von Asylbewerbern, translated as “initial distribution of asylum seekers”).

28 Arbeitsgruppe der EASY-Beauftragten, “Asyl: Ausnahmen von Verteilungsentscheidungen mit dem System EASY.”

29 Ibid.

30 Interview with the Secretary of State for Integration in Berlin, conducted on September 7, 2020.

31 Large cities such as Berlin “function as hubs for initial reception and transit … and are often the end destination of the refugees’ journeys”; the infrastructures and social (diaspora) networks that they offer likewise attract many newly arrived forced migrants. See Katz et al., “Cities and Refugees – The German Experience,” p. 4.

32 A Google News search for “Hamburger Katalog” AND Berlin did not yield any relevant results. A more general Google search, using the same key words, resulted in forty-nine results, only three of which were relevant. These include, next to the specialist publication referred to in footnote 28, pages providing legal advice by the Berlin Refugee Council and Schwulenberatung Berlin, an LGBT counselling center.

33 Oomen et al., “Strategies of Divergence.”

34 Section 23(1), Residence Act (AufenthG), promulgated on 25 February 2008 (Federal Law Gazette I p. 162), most recently amended by Article 4b of the Act of 17 February 2020 (Federal Law Gazette I p. 166).

35 Bundesrat, “Gesetzesantrag der Länder Berlin, Thüringen: Entwurf eines Gesetzes zur Änderung des § 23 Absatz 1 Aufenthaltsgesetz.”

36 Mai, “Berlin will grundsätzliche Klärung.”

37 Ibid. as well as interview with Member of Seebrücke Berlin, conducted on November 21, 2020.

38 “«Beschämend»: Berlins Innensenator kritisiert Seehofer.”

39 Starzmann, “SPD-Bundestagsfraktion unterstützt Berliner Klage gegen Seehofer.”

40 Oomen et al., “Strategies of Divergence.”

41 Section 22, Residence Act.

42 Lehnert, “Rechtliche Spielräume der Bundesländer bei der Aufnahme von Geflüchteten aus griechischen Lagern,” pp. 6–7.

43 Interview with Member of Seebrücke Berlin, conducted on November 21, 2020.

44 Flüchtlingsrat Berlin, “Berlin braucht eine menschenwürdige Flüchtlingspolitik.”

45 Seebrücke, “Forderungen.”

46 Section 47(1), Asylum Act.

47 More specifically, Section 47(2) holds that “The obligation [to reside at a reception center] may be terminated for reasons of public health, for other reasons of public security and order, or for other compelling reasons.”

48 Berlit et al., Jahrbuch des Migrationsrechts für die Bundesrepublik Deutschland 2020, p. 442.

49 Interview with the Secretary of State for Integration in Berlin, conducted on September 7, 2020.

50 Berlit et al., Jahrbuch des Migrationsrechts für die Bundesrepublik Deutschland 2020, p. 442.

51 Flüchtlingsrat Berlin, “Berlin braucht eine menschenwürdige Flüchtlingspolitik,” p. 41.

52 Ibid. and Classen, Ratgeber für Geflüchtete in Berlin, pp. 121–122.

53 Flüchtlingsrat Berlin, “Berlin braucht eine menschenwürdige Flüchtlingspolitik,” p. 41.

54 “Breitenbach und Geisel: Keine Lösung im Abschiebestreit.”

55 See, for instance, Spencer and Delvino, “Municipal Activism on Irregular Migrants” and Van Breugel, “Towards a Typology of Local Migration Diversity Policies.”

56 Lanz, “Berlin oder Das umkämpfte Terrain der Einwanderungsstadt.”

57 Lanz, “Be Berlin! Governing the City through Freedom,” p. 1316.

58 See, for example, Glick Schiller and Çağlar, “Towards a Comparative Theory of Locality in Migration Studies.”

59 Interview with the Secretary of State for Integration in Berlin, conducted on September 7, 2020 (our translation).

60 Fiedler and Hackenbruch, “So viele Flüchtlinge leben in den Bezirken.” (our translation).

61 Schwiertz and Steinhilper, “Countering the Asylum Paradox Through Strategic Humanitarianism,” pp. 204–206. As the authors explain, this campaign was launched by the Bavarian Refugee Council and accomplished a public commitment by fifty German cities to host resettled refugees.

62 Gluns, “Refugee Integration Policy and Public Administration in Berlin,” p. 10.

63 Interview with Member of Seebrücke Berlin, conducted on November 21, 2020 (our translation).

64 Ambrosini, “The Battleground of Asylum and Immigration Policies,” p. 380.

65 Filomeno, Theories of Local Immigration Policy, p. 31.

66 Ambrosini, “The Battleground of Asylum and Immigration Policies.”

67 Bauder, “Urban Migrant and Refugee Solidarity Beyond City Limits.”

68 Campomori and Ambrosini, “Multilevel Governance in Trouble.”

69 Baumgärtel and Miellet, Introduction to this volume, p. 1.

70 Ibid.

71 Interview with Member of Seebrücke Berlin, conducted on November 21, 2020 (our translation).

72 Interview with the Secretary of State for Integration in Berlin, conducted on September 7, 2020.

73 Interview with Member of Seebrücke Berlin, conducted on November 21, 2020 (our translation).

74 Ibid.

75 Kluth et al., Addressing Vulnerabilities of Protection Seekers in German Federalism, p. 5.

76 Ibid. (our translation).

77 Sassen, The Global City.

78 Scholten, “Cities of Migration,” p. 242.

79 Hoekstra, “Governing Difference in the City.”

80 Interview with the Secretary of State for Integration in Berlin, conducted on September 7, 2020 (our translation).

81 See chapter by Morales in this volume.

82 Crul et al., “Conclusions: Coming to Terms with Superdiversity?,” p. 226.

83 De Graauw, “Municipal ID Cards for Undocumented Immigrants.” See also Hinger, “Integration through Disintegration?.”

84 Lanz, “Berlin oder Das umkämpfte Terrain der Einwanderungsstadt.”

85 Interview with Member of Seebrücke Berlin, conducted on November 21, 2020 (our translation).

86 Hoekstra, “Governing Difference in the City,” p. 375.

87 Ibid., pp. 375–376.

88 Ibid.

89 Interview with the Secretary of State for Integration in Berlin, conducted on September 7, 2020 (our translation).

90 Filomeno, Theories of Local Immigration Policy, p. 30.

91 Hoekstra, “Governing Difference in the City,” p. 376.

92 Hirschl, City, State, p. 174. See also the chapter by Morales in this volume.

93 See Lasch’s chapter in this volume.

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