Citizenship Studies

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The rights and duties of external citizenship

Rainer Bauböck

To cite this article: Rainer Bauböck (2009) The rights and duties of external citizenship,
Citizenship Studies, 13:5, 475-499, DOI: 10.1080/13621020903174647

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Citizenship Studies
Vol. 13, No. 5, October 2009, 475–499

The rights and duties of external citizenship

Rainer Bauböck*

Department of Political and Social Sciences, European University Institute,

San Domenico di Fiesole, Italy
(Received 16 September 2008; final version received 19 May 2009)

Dual citizenship we may have to recognize as the rudimentary form of that international
citizenship to which, if our words mean anything, we aspire.
(Randolph Bourne, Trans-National America, 1916)

What are the rights and obligations of citizens who live outside their country? Political theory
has so far focused on immigrants’ access to citizenship in countries of settlement and has had
little to say about their relations to their countries of origin. External citizenship is, however,
of growing importance for large numbers of migrants as well as for sending states, many of
which have dramatically changed their attitudes towards expatriates. I have proposed a
stakeholder criterion for determining who should have claims to external citizenship status
and rights. In this article I summarize how this argument applies to the acquisition and loss of
citizenship outside a state’s territory, to the right to return, to an external franchise, and to
citizenship duties of military service, paying taxes and compulsory voting.

Keywords: transnationalism; external citizenship; citizenship rights; citizenship

duties; stakeholder principle

I. Why have political theorists neglected external citizenship?1

Citizenship has generally been conceived as a status of membership in a particular
political community that entails equal basic rights, legal obligations and opportunities to
participate actively in political decision making.2 For most authors, the borders of
territorial jurisdictions are at the same time the boundaries within which citizenship
operates. Against purely territorial and national conceptions, some theorists have
projected the idea of citizenship to a global level. The notion of cosmopolitan citizenship
refers to duties of solidarity that human beings have towards others across state borders
and national identities (Nussbaum 2000, Appiah 2006). In more ambitious versions, global
cosmopolitan citizenship is linked to democratic models of an international political order
with representation not only of states, but also of individuals in global decision-making
bodies (Archibugi and Held 1995, Archibugi 2008).
What tends to be overlooked in confrontations between purely domestic approaches on
the one hand and cosmopolitan ones on the other is that even in the current world
citizenship is clearly not confined within territorial borders. Liberal theorists have of course
been aware of international migration and have written extensively about newcomers’

*Email: rainer.baubock@eui.eu

ISSN 1362-1025 print/ISSN 1469-3593 online

q 2009 Taylor & Francis
DOI: 10.1080/13621020903174647
http://www.informaworld.com
476 R. Bauböck

rights of access to citizenship in their country of long-term settlement (Walzer 1983, Carens
1989). But most normative analyses do not consider at all that, apart from small numbers of
stateless persons, migrants are also external citizens of countries of origin until and unless
they decide to naturalize. And with increasing toleration of dual nationality, many remain
external citizens even after they have become full citizens of their country of settlement.
I think that there are three kinds of reasons for the neglect of external citizenship in
political theory. The first one might be called the ‘owl of Minerva syndrome’. Political
theory is generally a latecomer. It often starts to engage much later with new perspectives
that emerge from public policy debates or empirical social sciences. Multiculturalism had
been on the political and academic agendas for roughly 20 years before the first major
political theories of multiculturalism were published in the early 1990s (Kymlicka 1989,
1995, Taylor 1992). Although a first succinct statement of a transnational perspective on
migration goes back to Randolph Bourne’s essay from 1916 quoted above as a motto,
the recent wave of academic writing started only in the 1990s with works by cultural
anthropologists (Basch et al. 1994, Vertovec 1998) and sociologists (Guarnizo and Smith
1998, Faist 2000).
The second reason has to do with methodological nationalism in political theory. This
bias shows mainly in a tendency to take national territorial boundaries for granted and to
assume that they also determine those of human societies (Wimmer and Glick Schiller
2002). Migrants are then perceived only as immigrants and never as emigrants. This may
be due to sheer ignorance. Desk-chair analyses by theorists whose chairs are in western
university departments do not naturally lead to paying much attention to migrants’
economic, cultural, political, and social ties with sending countries.3 Those who are aware
of these phenomena may still choose to downplay them deliberately because they share
the view that such ties impede the integration of immigrants in the receiving society.
In principle, methodological nationalism of this kind could be stated as a universalistic
perspective that privileges an immigration over an emigration perspective. However, more
often it leads to a particularistic view that is biased against transnationalism among
immigrants in one’s own society while defending special duties of that same country
towards its expatriates.
There is, however, also a more respectable third reason for the lack of attention to
external citizenship among normative political theorists. Many subscribe to Ronald
Dworkin’s view that equality is liberalism’s sovereign virtue and that liberal states must
treat all citizens with equal respect and concern (Dworkin 1977, 2000). Prima facie, it
seems implausible that this norm of equality applies to external citizens. How could a
government show equal concern for citizens living inside its own jurisdiction and
expatriates living within another sovereign’s territory? Since most of the domestic laws
and political decisions will not apply to the latter group, how could they claim equality of
rights with the former? If individuals must be treated as equals by the political authorities
to whose collectively binding decisions they are subjected, then citizenship rights must
be extended primarily to immigrants who are foreign residents. In this view, claims of
external citizens to equality are addressed to the government of the country where they
reside rather than to the country they have left. If equality is the supreme norm for liberal
citizenship, then it seems that external citizenship can only be defended as an additional
privilege that may be granted by countries of origin at their own discretion, but not a
proper subject for a normative theory of individual rights and government obligations.
This is the best defence of the immigration bias in political theory that I can think of.
It is clearly opposed to ethnic nationalism, which derives claims to membership from
descent rather than from residence. However, even such a liberal egalitarian conception
 Citizenship Studies 477

of residence-based citizenship remains caught within a nationalist perspective that ignores

the multiplicity and malleability of individual affiliations to political communities.
In order to fully overcome a nationalist perspective, we need to understand that the
legal status and rights of international migrants are determined by their relation to two
states. Long-term resident foreign nationals not only enjoy a bundle of rights derived from
residence, but are simultaneously external citizens of a country of origin. ‘Denizenship’
and long-term external citizenship are therefore two sides of the same coin, and the value
of this coin in terms of rights and opportunities cannot be determined by looking at one
side only.
The coin analogy might suggest that the foreign nationality side merely shows an
image of the sovereign to whom migrants owe allegiance, while the number on the other
side indicates the value of rights provided by the state of residence. Yet, as I will argue
below, such a clear separation of functions would be misleading. The rights of external
citizenship may not be equally important as those derived from residence, but the latter are
by no means insignificant and become in certain contexts indispensable conditions for
securing individual liberty and well-being.
Migrants’ claim to equal respect and concern must therefore be assessed in a normative
framework that involves both countries of residence and origin. This is a complex task,
since we can no longer assume that simple equality of rights with domestic citizens will be
the right answer for both denizens and external citizens. In debates about gender, race,
ethnicity or disability, liberal theorists have mostly accepted that citizenship rights need to
be differentiated in order to treat as equals individuals whose structural positions or
opportunities in society are in important ways unequal. It does not seem a big step to
extend the argument to migration contexts and the need to differentiate citizenship in order
to achieve equality between migrants and natives or between mobile and sedentary
populations. Yet this step adds a new layer of complexity by requiring a transnational
framework for the allocation of rights and corresponding government duties. When
considering the claims of migrants, we need to abandon not the norm of equal respect and
concern for all citizens, but the notion that this demand is exclusively addressed to the
government of a single country. Instead, we have to consider what it means to treat
individuals as equals if their claims to citizenship are simultaneously addressed to two
independent governments.
In order to avoid normative ‘ad hocery’ in addressing this task, we need a normative
principle for allocating citizenship status, rights and duties that can be coherently applied
both within and beyond territorially bounded jurisdictions. In the next section, I will
introduce a ‘stakeholder’ principle that could meet this test.
As ‘external citizenship’ is not a widely used concept, I need first to clarify briefly how
I define this term. I interpret ‘external’ as referring to the territorial jurisdiction rather than
to the legal status of citizenship itself.4 There are then two possible interpretations of the
territorial boundaries with regard to which a certain citizenship relation can be seen as
internal or external. The first interpretation refers to the physical borders of the territory
and the current position of individuals in relation to this border. This distinction is fully
dichotomous, since no person can be simultaneously on both sides of a geographical
border. According to this definition, anybody who goes on a vacation or business trip
abroad will become an external citizen for the time of his or her absence. The second
interpretation refers to residence instead of mere presence within a territory. It regards as
external those citizens who are long-term or permanent residents abroad. This conception
is no longer strictly dichotomous, since individuals can simultaneously have multiple
residences in different countries. It also differs from the first interpretation in regarding
478 R. Bauböck

expatriates whose only residence is abroad as external citizens, even during temporary
sojourns in their country of origin. The underlying reference here is to a territorially
bounded society of co-residents rather than to the geographic scope of a country’s
territorial jurisdiction.
These two basic conceptions of external citizenship can be further refined and
combined in different ways for comparative purposes.5 For defining external citizenship,
however, it is neither necessary nor useful to stipulate a specific combination of these
criteria. Doing so would misconceive of citizenship as a system for categorizing
individuals. Instead, we should understand it as a fairly flexible and multi-faceted relation
between individuals and political communities. I will therefore use the term external
citizenship as a generic concept that refers to the status, rights and duties of all those who
are temporarily or permanently outside the territory of a polity that recognizes them as
members. We can then use the notion of expatriates as a more specific term referring
specifically to citizens with long-term residence abroad. This further distinction between
temporary and long-term external citizens is normatively important, as we will see when
considering now which principles ought to govern the allocation of the status and rights of
external citizenship.

II. A stakeholder principle for determining citizenship

In a world separated into distinct political communities, a recognized status of
membership in at least one of these communities is a general precondition for individual
autonomy and well-being. In Hannah Arendt’s well-known phrase, citizenship is ‘the right
to have rights’ (Arendt 1967, p. 269). It specifies the primary addressee of a person’s claim
to protection of her fundamental rights. Citizenship is, however, not only about passive
entitlements, but also about active participation or representation in the making of laws.
In this respect, we can define citizenship as a status of full and equal membership in a
self-governing political community. At the most general level, liberals ought to defend a
universal right to citizenship that can be stated as follows: everybody has a right to equal
membership in a self-governing political community.
This general principle must be specified in two ways: we need to know which
communities have a claim to self-government and which individuals have a claim to
citizenship in a particular self-governing community. The second question is linked to the
first one through a principle of inclusion, so that the collective ‘self’ is defined as the
community of all individuals who have a right to membership. The principle of inclusion
clarifies that a self-governing demos cannot determine its own membership arbitrarily
(Whelan 1983, Dahl 1989, pp. 106 –130, Goodin 2007). The status, benefits and burdens
of membership must be justified towards those included or excluded, and this justification
must refer to the value of self-government.
This does not yet answer either of the two questions. In response to the first one, we
need some independent criteria for evaluating the legitimacy of established polities and of
projects that aim at redrawing political borders or creating new self-governing polities.
I will set aside this question, since it is not my concern in the present paper.6 I presuppose,
therefore, that external citizenship relations refer to independent states that exercise
legitimate jurisdiction over a stable territory, and I will focus on the question of how
such states should determine membership status, rights and duties when conceiving of
themselves as self-governing political communities. Once we have found an answer to this
second question, we may then combine it with an appropriate response to the first question
about legitimate self-government by considering how criteria for citizenship might change
 Citizenship Studies 479

when the community in question is not an independent state, but an autonomous polity
within a state (a federal province or a local municipality), a union of several independent
states (such as the European Union), or a political movement struggling for territorial self-
government.7
I propose a stakeholder principle for determining who has a claim to citizenship in a
particular polity. The underlying idea is that in a self-governing polity, each individual
member has a stake in the future of that polity in a dual sense. First, each individual’s
autonomy or well-being8 depends to a large degree on how well political institutions work
in guaranteeing equal liberties and in providing equal opportunities for all subjected to
their authority. Second, citizens can collectively shape the future course of the
polity through political participation and by holding political authorities accountable.
The notoriously vague notion of the common good may serve as a shorthand term for what
it is that citizens have a stake in.
In order to turn this interpretation of stakeholdership into a principle for determining
claims to membership, we need qualifying conditions that tell us which individuals have a
stake that is significant enough to create a corresponding obligation for the political
community to offer them citizenship. These must be conditions grounded in the
individual’s circumstances of life, rather than merely a subjective preference for
membership in a particular polity. Strong obligations to include stakeholders must
therefore rely on objective ties that create special responsibilities for particular polities to
include particular individuals. Making citizenship available to individuals whose lives
have had little prior connection to the particular polity provides no assurances for present
citizens that newcomers are willing to link their future with that of the polity and to share
the responsibilities and burdens of self-government.9
The principle of inclusion can then be specified as follows: self-governing political
communities should include as citizens those individuals whose circumstances of life link
their individual autonomy or well-being to the common good of the political community.
When considering why stakeholdership is the most plausible principle for determining
who has a right to citizenship in which polity, we need to refer to the future: individuals
acquire a stake in that polity whose future collective destiny is likely to shape their own life
prospects. Yet the future is uncertain, and citizens of liberal polities can always renounce
their membership after emigration. When considering how to determine which individuals
qualify for citizenship, a probabilistic future-oriented conception of stakes must therefore
be supported by more specific indicators in the past and present. I propose two such
indicators:10
Those persons and only those persons have a claim to citizenship in a particular
political community who
(a) depend on that community for long-term protection of their basic rights
(dependency criterion) or
(b) are or have been subjected to that community’s political authorities for a
significant period over the course of their lives (biographical subjection criterion).
The dependency criterion applies to all current citizens living in the jurisdiction, but it
widens the scope of inclusion specifically for refugees and stateless people who lack any
protection through a citizenship of origin, and it assigns a responsibility to particular states
for offering them a substitute citizenship. The criterion refers to long-term protection and
therefore does not kick in immediately, for example, when rescuing boat people at sea.
However, it implies a duty of states to take in refugees also for long-term protection and to
offer them full citizenship.
480 R. Bauböck

The biographical subjection criterion takes the fact that a person’s life has been shaped
by living under a specific authority as a sufficient indicator for a stake in the polity’s
future. The critical move that I am suggesting here is to extend subjection in time so that
it does not merely cover present but also past situations. Since citizenship is a life-long
status for native residents, an external claim to citizenship must also be established
by considering the whole of a person’s course of life and the strength of her ties to the
political community that can be derived from it. I emphasize this life-course perspective
by calling the proposed condition a criterion of biographical subjection.
The idea that citizenship stakeholders are those who have an interest in membership
grounded in the circumstances of their lives creates a much more limited scope of
inclusion than the broader notion of inclusion of all affected interests (Shapiro 2003,
Goodin 2007). Political decisions and particular laws do not equally affect all persons who
reside in a territorial jurisdiction, and they may strongly affect many who reside outside
that jurisdiction. Yet in liberal democracies, those citizens inside the polity who are not
affected are not excluded from representation, and those who are affected outside are
generally not included. The scope of democratic representation does not refer to the
interests affected by particular decisions, but is based on the assumption of a bounded
demos composed of citizens, most of whom are members by birth and for life.11
This argument seems to support a nationalist conception of the demos as a pre-political
community of shared ancestry, history and culture.12 Yet this need not be the case if we
derive the collective identity and cohesion of a demos from its members’ shared
fundamental interest in citizenship. These interests are genuinely political ones and
emerge because individuals happen to be permanently dependent on, and jointly subjected
to, established institutions of government that they can accept as legitimate if they are
adequately represented in these institutions. By contrast, an ethno-national conception of
the demos will support special responsibilities to offer citizenship to individuals whose
only tie with the polity is a shared language or ancestry but whose claims are not grounded
in their circumstances of life.
Inside a territorial jurisdiction, a stakeholder principle will be more inclusive than
either a principle of affected interests or of ethno-national community, but somewhat less
inclusive than a third alternative principle, according to which all those subjected to the
laws (rather than affected by them) must be represented in the making of the laws (see e.g.
López-Guerra 2005). Interpreted literally, this principle would require offering citizenship
status and rights even to temporary residents and tourists. A more reasonable interpretation
will add some threshold of long-term subjection, but this qualification merely begs the
question as to what kind of interest justifies different treatment of individuals who are
subjected to the same coercive legislation, depending on their prior residence.
David Owen has proposed an alternative interpretation of the ‘inclusion of all
subjected’ principle that accounts for the exclusion of transients as well as for the inclusion
of expatriates. Owen suggests that what matters is the fact of subjection to authoritative
decisions of a state regarding the rights that make up the legal character of citizens of that
state. In this respect, transients are not addressees of political rule although they are
subjected to the laws, while citizens abroad remain subject to a state’s authority, even if
most of their rights and duties will remain inactive unless and until they take up residence
in the state’s territory (Owen 2009). Even this deterritorialized conception of political
authority suffers, however, from a general deficiency of the ‘inclusion of all subjected’
principle. While ‘all affected interests’ is too indeterminate and fails to provide any
guidelines for drawing stable boundaries between polities, ‘all subjected persons’ is too
conservative in presupposing the legitimacy of given boundaries.13 If a state turns, for
 Citizenship Studies 481

example, the grandchildren of emigrants into citizens through automatic and unlimited ius
sanguinis rules, then these persons would be subject to the authority of the grandparents’
state of origin and could claim democratic representation there. The question is, however,
whether such persons should be included as citizens in the first place.14 Questions about
legitimate inclusion must therefore refer to some principle that is not fully derived from de
facto exercise of political authority.15
Stakeholdership as an interest in long-term membership grounded in objective
circumstances of a person’s life provides an answer that significantly deviates from both
territorial and non-territorial interpretations of the inclusion of all subjects in its
implications, as well as in its justifying reasons. This principle considers biographical
subjection as an indicator for stakeholdership, whereas the link between the future
prospects of individuals and political communities provides the core reason.
Once we define a claim to citizenship as a stake in long-term membership rather than
in particular decisions, it becomes obvious that all long-term residents in a territorial
jurisdiction ought to be regarded as stakeholders. The implication is that these residents
must be given access to citizenship status and rights. There are different ways in which this
may be achieved. Residence-based denizenship rights for non-citizens can be combined
with access to legal citizenship status through ius soli (automatic acquisition of citizenship
derived from birth in the territory), ius sanguinis (automatic acquisition derived from a
parent’s citizenship) and ius domicilii (automatic or voluntary acquisition derived from
time of residence in the territory). As my focus in this paper is on external citizenship, I do
not discuss any further how to apply a stakeholder principle in contexts of immigration
(see Carens 1989, Bauböck 1994, chap. 4, 2006).
The principle clearly applies outside the territorial jurisdiction, but it is also a rather
demanding criterion in this respect. Just as it is not enough to be affected by political
decisions, it is also not sufficient to claim an instrumental interest, an ideological affinity
or a subjective sense of belonging. For example, owners of property in a foreign country
may be interested in citizenship in order to better protect their investment. Others will be
interested in a second passport for the sake of easier travel.16 Interests of this kind quite
obviously do not ground a moral claim to citizenship.
Ideological affinity or cultural belonging seem to provide stronger arguments.
As observed by Michael Walzer (1983, chap. 2), states often behave like clubs or extended
families in selecting those whom they are willing to admit as new citizens. During the
Cold War, dissidents from Eastern Europe were offered refugee status and citizenship in
the West because they were seen as ideological allies and defenders of Western ideals of
liberty and democracy. Yet refugees have a claim to admission not because of their
ideological views, but because they have lost the protection provided by their original
citizenship and depend on other states to provide them with asylum as a substitute.
Similar qualifications apply to citizenship claims of diasporas. Groups who self-
identify as a diaspora with a strong sense of belonging to an external homeland will often
try to influence that country’s political life, but the democratic legitimacy of doing so will
depend on their individual members’ stakes in returning rather than on the ideological
claims of their leaders to represent a ‘nation abroad’. Some states have also actively
encouraged historic kin minorities, whose homelands were once part of the national
territory, to acquire citizenship without leaving their country of residence.17 From the
normative perspective that I have suggested, such claims and policies must be justified by
the minority members’ need for protection of their rights by an external kin state rather
than on grounds of their cultural belonging.18
482 R. Bauböck

How would a stakeholder criterion help to determine external citizenship? Both the
dependency and the biographical subjection criteria provide support for claims by regular
migrants. The core of external citizenship is the right to return. If we accept return as a basic
right of migrants, then they obviously depend on an external country of origin for the
provision of this right. The dependency criterion establishes thus a duty of source countries
of emigration, but it cannot specify who among the populations originating there enjoys the
right to which this duty corresponds. The second criterion of biographical subjection answers
this question for first-generation emigrants. Of course, not every emigrant will return or
retain transnational ties by moving back and forth between a country of origin and
settlement. All we need to assert is that the return option is an important element in migrants’
overall bundle of citizenship rights, no matter whether they are individually likely to choose
it. As I will discuss below, a claim to stakeholder return can also extend to second
generations, since their lives until the age of majority will be strongly shaped by their
parents’ intentions and choices, including those relating to return to the country of origin.
Why do I refer to stake-holding in a political community rather than more simply to
societal membership, as I have done in my earlier work (Bauböck 1994) where I adopted a
terminology introduced by Joseph Carens (1989)? Could one not say that emigrants
remain members of society by virtue of their previous residence and of their ongoing
social ties to family members still living in the country of origin? While this is a plausible
sociological statement, there is a problem with defining the society in question. As pointed
out in section I, in contexts of transnational migration and of globalization more broadly,
the very notion of a bounded national society becomes problematic (see also Spiro 2008,
pp. 120– 126). Alternatively, one could adopt a deterritorialized conception of society and
see migrants as stakeholders in transnational social formations (Faist 2000). This
perspective suggests the need for some international authority that guarantees rights for
mobile populations, but does not obviously support their claims to citizenship in a specific
territorial jurisdiction.19
Carens’ notion of societal membership accepts that societies do have boundaries and
determines these through co-residence within a political territory. While this conception
would substantiate immigrants’ claim to citizenship, it cannot account for long-term
external membership. Opening it up by bringing in family ties begs the question why other
networks across borders, such as business connections, should not also be regarded as
forms of societal membership. The argument becomes also somewhat circular if we derive
claims to political membership from factual societal membership, but then have to refer to
given political boundaries in order to define societies in the first place.
This is why my definition of stakeholdership relates directly to political community
instead of taking the detour via societal membership. Although political communities in
the modern world may overlap or be nested within each other, they remain clearly bounded
in terms of both territorial jurisdiction and individual membership. Norms of political
inclusion and exclusion must refer to these boundaries.
Defining citizenship in political rather than societal terms has the additional virtue of
theoretical modesty. It allows studying the impact of migration on political communities
while keeping our minds open for much broader societal changes brought about by
enhanced human mobility.20

III. Retaining external citizenship

The right to leave any country, including one’s own, is today enshrined in international
law as a universal human right.21 Exit rights are thus independent of citizenship. However,
 Citizenship Studies 483

citizens do enjoy a specific right to leave without being deprived of their citizenship as a
consequence. Citizens’ freedom to emigrate therefore includes a right of access to external
citizenship. In combination with a right to return, this is what distinguishes free emigration
from banishment – that is, emigration imposed by the government – and from the
involuntary exile of refugees brought about by government persecution or a lack of
government protection.
Who ought to have this right to retain citizenship while abroad, and for how long?
The answer to the first question should include not only those who are nationals, but also
long-term resident denizens with a foreign citizenship. Denizenship is not merely a bundle
of citizenship rights derived from residence, but also a right of residence – that is, to
long-term stay. In addition to protection against expulsion and deportation, security of
residence for denizens entails their readmission after a temporary stay abroad.
This does not mean that external denizenship includes exactly the same rights as
external citizenship. In current state practice and international law, protection of denizens
against expulsion is generally much lower than it is for citizens. Normatively, this
difference seems hard to justify. Why should such protection depend on legal status rather
than on time of residence? One argument is that denizens have another state that has to
take them back in case of expulsion. However, this reason applies also to dual citizens who
are still fully protected from deportation.22 The other argument is that denizens deserve
less protection because they have decided not to naturalize. However, even assuming that
they had been offered naturalization, which is often not the case, it seems inconsistent to
accept that denizenship rights are automatically acquired through long-term legal
residence while making the very security of continued residence conditional upon an
individual’s choosing a status of full citizenship.
The general neglect of external citizenship explains why hardly anybody considers that
arguments for differentiation may be much stronger once we move beyond the territorial
borders. Even long-term denizenship is not a status of full and life-long membership in a
self-governing polity, so the former may be reasonably limited in its external aspects in
terms of both rights and duration. External denizenship and the right to readmission cannot
be passed on to second generations born abroad. For similar reasons, the right to return
may also be limited within the first generation. If immigrants are recognized as permanent
residents after holding temporary residence permits for some time, then it seems
reasonable to consider them also as having permanently left the country after spending
several years abroad.23
Apart from the crucial right to return, nearly all benefits of denizenship depend on
current residence, and will therefore be lost immediately with departure. Of course,
emigrating citizens also no longer enjoy those civil and social rights that depend on
residence in the territory. Yet, after leaving, citizens are still offered a much more
comprehensive bundle of external rights than denizens are. For example, a former state of
residence will generally not provide external denizens with diplomatic and consular
protection or with voting rights in local elections.24
The condition under which it is normatively permissible to treat denizens and citizens
unequally with regard to their external rights is that the former must have enjoyed fair
opportunities of naturalization when they were residents (including an option of retaining
a former nationality). I have argued above that an immigrant’s choice of citizenship should
be irrelevant for her security of residence, but I believe that it is relevant for readmission.
As a future-oriented principle, stakeholdership is not fully determined by past biographical
subjection (which applies also to external denizens) but assumes a life-long interest in the
polity’s future. If immigrants have chosen not to become full citizens when invited to do
484 R. Bauböck

so, then they can also not claim to have a life-long external stake in the political
community where they had once been residents.
How long then should those who are full citizens maintain their status and rights when
living abroad? The criteria for stake-holding are not meant to suggest a precise time
period. They provide arguments against policies that ignore legitimate interests of external
as well as domestic citizens, but they permit for contextual justifications and a wide range
of variation in democratic decision-making. On the one hand, external stake-holding is not
a dichotomous variable but a matter of degrees of involvement. On the other hand, as the
argument against a criterion of affected interests has demonstrated, citizenship status and
rights cannot be tailored to fit individual interests and circumstances, but must apply in a
wholesale way to categories of individuals whose relation with a political authority creates
a presumptive interest in membership.
The criterion of biographical subjection suggests that first-generation emigrants (that
is, persons who had been born and raised in a country of external citizenship) should have
a life-long right to retain this status. This is mostly recognized by liberal democracies,25
but those states that do not permit their expatriates to retain their citizenship when
naturalizing abroad seriously jeopardize this right by forcing emigrants to choose between
two political communities when they are likely to have strong stakes in both.
As far as I know, all current citizenship laws include a principle of ius sanguinis that
allows for transmitting an external citizenship to children born abroad. There is, however,
a lot of variation with regard to how long and under which conditions these second
generations may retain their citizenship. A large number of states do not put any limits on
external ius sanguinis, so that even third and later generations will grow up with a right to
citizenship in their ancestors’ country of origin.26 Since many of these countries also
tolerate multiple nationality among expatriates, the current potential for external
citizenships that may be activated for entirely instrumental reasons is huge.
Such a proliferation is obviously not covered by a stakeholder principle. This merely
means that there is no moral right to post-second generation external citizenship and no
corresponding duty on the part of states. It does not yet mean that such policies are
impermissible. Advocates of free movement rights might point out that these external
citizenships make state borders more porous by giving more persons immigration rights.
One could also argue that granting external citizenships falls within the scope of a state’s
legitimate immigration policy. If a decision to create such immigration entitlements
is democratically supported by the country’s citizens, then nobody’s rights seem to be
violated. Against both lines of reasoning, one can point out that admission decisions
primarily affect the interests of would-be immigrants and that inherited external
citizenship is a morally arbitrary criterion for allocating opportunities among the pool of
potential immigrants. In the EU context there is an additional objection that each country’s
external citizenship policies create immigration rights into all other member states.
Over-inclusive policies undermine therefore other states’ right to immigration control.
While these arguments do not amount to a general impermissibility of transferring external
citizenship across generations, they create at least a prima facie presumption against
such policies.
The position of second generation emigrants falls somewhere in between a right to
external citizenship for first-generation emigrants and the rejection of a moral claim for
third and later generations. At first glance, it seems that neither of the two operational
criteria for stakeholdership applies. At their birth, second generations have by definition
not been subjected to the political authorities of their parents’ countries of origin. And as
long as second generations live in countries of immigrant settlement that guarantee
 Citizenship Studies 485

fundamental rights, the protection of these rights does not seem to depend on access to
another country’s external citizenship. However, the biographical circumstances of second
generations are strongly shaped by their parents’ choices and life plans, which often
include an intention to return or to maintain close relations with family members living in
a country of origin. Their fundamental rights include thus a right to return with their
parents. This is a convincing argument for ius sanguinis transmission to the second
generation. After they have reached the age of majority, the strength of their stakes in their
parents’ country of origin may, however, be tested by introducing additional criteria, such
as a declaration of intent to take up future residence in the country, or an actual loss of
external citizenship unless they take up residence there until a specified age. Any provision
of loss of external citizenship for second or later generations must of course presuppose
that they do not become stateless. No matter whether they have acquired it through
descent, birthplace or naturalization, individuals have a primary and unconditional right to
citizenship in their country of birth and primary residence under any interpretation of
stakeholdership. The current German rule that requires those of dual citizenship by descent
and birth in the territory to renounce one of their citizenships around the age of majority
is therefore not at all comparable with the loss of an external citizenship after the age of
majority.
Assigning legal status to categories of persons defined by broad criteria such as
residence, territory of birth and descent will inevitably create normative mismatches with
the endless variety of individual circumstances. This is one reason why a defensible
citizenship regime must provide for individual choice. The other reason is that the liberal
political community at the level of independent states includes an element of consent
(Bauböck 1994). Just as immigrants should not be automatically naturalized against their
will, so emigrants must have an option to renounce their citizenship. Individual
circumstances should also be taken into account by allowing for some administrative
discretion in favour of those who want to obtain citizenship in the country or to retain it
abroad. Members of third generations born abroad who have strong stakes in their
grandparents’ country of origin could then be granted external citizenship on exceptional
grounds. Those who had already previously resided there for some time can simply be
reclassified as first-generation emigrants whose right to citizenship is not under dispute.

IV. Rights of external citizenship

In the previous section I have proposed that access to the status of external citizenship
should be differentiated between generations. Now I am going to argue that the rights
entailed by this status may also be differentiated within first and second generations.
There are only two rights that ought to be unconditionally attached to this status: the
rights to diplomatic protection and to return. Anybody who enjoys a state’s legal
citizenship status should be admitted to that state’s territory and be protected abroad by its
diplomatic and consular missions. Diminishing these rights for those who have been
abroad for too long or have been born there would question the core state obligations
entailed by citizenship. Instead of grading these rights, we ought to ask who should be
recognized as an external citizen in the first place.
There are nevertheless some difficulties that arise in specifying these two rights. For
diplomatic protection, the problem is whether it can be reconciled with a general toleration
of dual nationality.27 Do states have a right to protect their nationals against the
government of another country whose citizenship these nationals also possess? This
question is particularly acute for refugees who often cannot renounce their
486 R. Bauböck

previous nationality.28 Before using their new passports to travel to their country of origin,
they will often be told that their new citizenship will not protect them there. However, as
pointed out by Kay Hailbronner (2003, pp. 22 – 25), state practice seems to be evolving and
some countries are quietly or openly committed to protecting their citizens in any case, no
matter which other state may claim them as citizens, too.
From a liberal perspective, this particular conflict could be best resolved by a general
principle of priority for the country of habitual residence. This priority rule can be easily
derived from the stakeholder principle and would determine which of two governments is
in charge of providing diplomatic protection for dual nationals living in third countries.
It would also imply that for a dual national who is on a temporary visit to her other country
of nationality, the extraterritorial citizenship would remain more important than that of
temporary abode. In cases such as these, the distinction drawn in section I between a
purely territorial and a residential conception of external citizenship becomes normatively
relevant. The temporary visitor abroad is an external citizen with regard to territorial
jurisdiction, but remains an internal citizen with regard to a residential conception of
society. In a Hobbesian view of sovereignty, territorial jurisdiction takes priority, but in a
liberal perspective, the claim to protection is primarily addressed to the government of the
country where one’s centre of daily life is located. The dependency criterion suggests,
however, that there has to be some scope for exceptions when countries intervene on
behalf of their external dual nationals whose security and fundamental rights are
jeopardized through state failure (e.g. in a civil war) or through state perpetration
(e.g. when external citizens are threatened with torture or the death penalty).
A difficulty with the right to return is whether it entails an unconditional obligation of
states to readmit their nationals even in cases of involuntary return. Currently, European
states that want to deport irregular immigrants, rejected asylum seekers or regular
immigrants who have committed a crime often face the problem that countries of origin do
not recognize the persons concerned as their nationals so as to avoid readmission duties
(Hailbronner 2006, pp. 78 –81).29 Invoking a right to long-term residence even for
irregular or criminal immigrants, Joseph Carens (2002) and other liberal theorists have
criticized expulsion policies in Western states. Suppose that at least some of these policies
are indeed unjust. The obligation under international law to readmit citizens
unconditionally makes it easier for states to get rid of unwanted foreigners. Should we
not then applaud the refusal of countries of origin to comply with Western demands for
cooperation in unjust deportations? I do not think we should. Countries of origin have a
general duty to protect their citizens abroad from arbitrary and unjust expulsion, and may
use diplomatic pressure and other means to prevent forced returns. However, denying
readmission does not protect the victims of these policies. Instead, it worsens their plight
by turning them into de facto stateless persons or refugees in orbit.
From a utilitarian perspective, one could also invoke the readmitting country’s limited
capacities to reintegrate returning citizens as an argument for questioning its duties. This
would be no different from a brain drain argument for restricting exit rights. All aspects of
free movement, including the citizens’ right to leave and to return, may be suspended in
case of emergency. Recognition of this is very different from the subjection of citizens’
free movement rights to a utilitarian calculus of overall benefits for the community
concerned, which provides no firm basis for individual rights. The principle of stakeholder
citizenship offers additional reasons for a fairly unconditional right to return. It is plainly
contradictory to recognize that a person has a stake in life-long membership in a political
community but then to deny this person the opportunity to join fully this community by
taking up residence.
 Citizenship Studies 487

A final exception that I want to mention here are special categories of persons who
are explicitly denied the right to enter the territory of the country whose nationals they are.
In the United Kingdom, British Overseas Citizens, British Subjects, British Protected
Persons and British Nationals (Overseas) cannot enter their country of nationality without
visa or residence permits (Hansen 2000). Since these categories of persons also cannot
pass on their status to their children born abroad, this oddity is a transitory legacy of
decolonizing the British empire (Waldrauch 2006, p. 361). The rights of these nationals
can be described as a status of partial external citizenship that resembles in some ways
external denizenship, except that the former is derived from prior residence whereas the
latter has its source in previous affiliation with a colonial power.
Beyond the core rights of diplomatic protection and readmission, external citizenship
rights (e.g. to social or cultural support) may be legitimately graded and differentiated
according to the duration of individual residence abroad, according to specific conditions
of the country concerned, or simply as a result of procedurally legitimate democratic
decisions.
The most interesting question is whether external citizenship ought to include voting
rights.30 In a first step, we need to set aside two legal positivist interpretations. The first
doctrine says that where a constitutional doctrine postulates equal rights for all citizens, it
is illegitimate to differentiate between residents and external citizens.31 Since jurisdiction
is territorially limited, a principle of general equality of rights for these two categories is
impossible. The argument for equality of voting rights must therefore be based on
substantive rather than formal reasons.
The second idea is that currently enfranchised members of the polity are free to decide
whether or not to extend the franchise to external voters. However, as in earlier extensions
of voting rights to working classes and to women, decisions about democratic inclusion
cannot be based on pure procedural legitimacy and must refer to a substantive conception
of the demos. Among such substantive conceptions of the demos, strictly territorial or
residential ones fail to take into account how migration and the evolution of democratic
norms since World War II have expanded political communities beyond territorial
boundaries.32 The fact that the large majority of democracies today in some way grant
external voting rights33 should not be seen as a regrettable aberration but as a
fundamentally progressive adaptation of democratic practices to changing conceptions of
political membership.
On the other hand, a self-governing polity requires a stable core of resident citizens in
the territory. In small countries with large-scale emigration, where a majority of citizens
reside abroad and self-identify as a diaspora, an external franchise might lead to the
electoral domination of residents by outsiders who can impose their interests and
preferences without being exposed to most political consequences of their votes.
In contrast with the rights to return and diplomatic protection, an external franchise should
therefore be limited to the first generation of emigrants, who are more likely to be involved
in the political life of their country of origin, and it may additionally be restricted by
requirements of individual registration and other procedural obstacles.
Even for permanent first-generation expatriates, the external franchise should not be
seen as a fundamental individual right but as a permissible and often also recommendable
form of including transnational stakeholders in political decisions. Temporary absentees,
however, who will be fully exposed to the political consequences of elections when they
return, do have a strong claim not to be deprived of their franchise merely because they
happen to be abroad on election day. All democracies with mobile populations should
488 R. Bauböck

therefore consider introducing absentee ballots, which will in turn reduce cost-efficiency
arguments against a somewhat broader franchise for longer-term expatriates.
Considering external voting rights shows that a principle of stakeholder citizenship,
which grounds a right to life-long membership in a political community, must be further
specified when it is applied to the ongoing process of democratic self-determination of that
community. Residents who will be more immediately exposed to the political decisions
that they authorize through their vote have a qualitatively stronger claim to self-
government than external citizens. This is why it is legitimate to differentiate external
voting rights so that they reflect a presumptive strength of citizenship involvement and so
that domestic residents cannot be outvoted.

V. External citizenship duties

So far I have only examined external citizenship rights and corresponding duties of states.
However, citizens also have duties that can be enforced by governments. How does living
outside the country of citizenship affect these?34
The most general duty of citizenship, which applies to resident citizens as well as
foreign residents, is to obey the laws. External citizens, however, cannot be held to this
duty in the same way. The primacy of territorial jurisdiction means that external citizens
have to obey the laws of their country of residence. Whatever external legal duties they
may have require special justification.
There are, moreover, important differences between rights and duties here. The rights
to diplomatic protection, to return, to retain an external citizenship and to external voting
are exercised on a voluntary basis. A stakeholder criterion identifies the potential
beneficiaries of these rights but, with the exception of large and politically mobilized
diasporas discussed above, the number of actual users will in most cases remain small.
This discrepancy helps to alleviate concerns about the over-inclusiveness of external
citizenship with regard to the state of origin and about the interference of external
citizenship rights with the territorial sovereignty of the state of residence.35 By contrast,
legal citizenship duties must be enforced for all to whom they apply. So if a state decides to
impose such duties on its external citizens, it must do so consistently and by doing so will
catch in its net many more than those who make use of their rights. Enforcing external
duties also requires a more comprehensive projection of state power across borders than
does the provision of rights, and can thus more easily lead to conflicts over sovereignty.
There is a further problem with enforcing external duties in the absence of a coercive
apparatus, such as a police force, that could operate in another state’s territory. States of
origin essentially have two options – they can either seek the cooperation of authorities in
the country of residence or make the exercise of external rights conditional upon
compliance with duties. Governments that seek the extradition of external citizens charged
with a crime will have to pursue the former option. In all other cases, the most effective
way of imposing legal duties on expatriates is to link them with the right to return, either
by imposing penalties upon return or by depriving them of their external citizenship
altogether. Citizens who waive their right to return or renounce their citizenship status can
therefore easily avoid compliance with legal duties.36 The situation is quite different for
domestic citizens, who cannot simply turn themselves into foreign residents and would
have to emigrate first in order to avoid complying with citizenship duties.
These are general concerns about the enforceability of external duties and about the
impact of attempted enforcement on interstate relations. In order to assess the normative
legitimacy of imposing such duties, we have to take them one by one. I will discuss here
 Citizenship Studies 489

only the three that potentially affect large numbers of expatriates: military service,
taxation of income and compulsory voting.
Consider, first, military conscription. This traditional core duty of domestic citizenship
has been greatly weakened through the introduction of alternative civilian service and a
trend towards professional armies. Shifting gender norms have further undermined the
image of the male citizen warrior. I do not have data on how many countries that still
maintain a general draft conscript their external citizens.37 There are, however, quite a
number of states that either do not permit renunciation of citizenship abroad before
military service has been completed, or that impose a fee on expatriates who want to be
exempted.38 For dual nationals, there is now a norm in European international law that
states should recognize the performance of compulsory military service in one country as
exempting the persons concerned from similar requirements in a country of second
citizenship. Generally, dual citizens can choose in which country they will perform an
obligatory military service. In case of conflict, the country of habitual residence has a prior
claim to impose this duty on a dual national.39
I will not discuss here political or moral arguments for or against an army of
conscripted citizen soldiers and will only consider whether long-term expatriates or
second generation citizens born abroad should have the same duty to serve in the army as
domestic citizens.40
This is not an easy question. One possible answer is to suggest that the state of habitual
residence has a prior claim, not only in case of dual nationality but also towards denizens
who have chosen not to naturalize. The US is the only democratic country I know whose
government claims the power to draft long-term resident foreign nationals.41
This policy seems clearly indefensible, since the same residents do not enjoy voting
rights. Even if the franchise were extended to them, the question remains whether
first-generation immigrants can be presumed to have consented to risk their lives for a
country of current residence. Such a view would undermine the significance of
naturalization as a voluntary commitment to the common good of a new country of
citizenship. The practice of drafting denizens appears to be ultimately grounded in
misinterpreting the very act of immigration as already implying such a commitment.42
Once conscripting denizens is ruled out, then exempting expatriates from military
service would put them in a privileged position vis-à-vis citizens in both the country of
residence and of origin. I conclude, therefore, that external citizenship does not per se
generate a moral claim against conscription, but that adverse consequences of enforcing
the draft among expatriates provide pragmatic reasons for refraining from imposing
external military obligations. They would merely push emigrants, who may have strong
stakes in the country of origin, to abandon their citizenship or not to make use of their right
to return until they have reached an age that exempts them from the draft.
For a second generation born abroad, enforcing military service in their parents’
country of origin seems to me an impermissible condition for their retaining
citizenship. The reasons why external voting rights should not be carried over
automatically to generations of emigrant descent apply with even greater weight to
military duties. The second generation’s stakeholder claims in a country of origin are
essentially reduced to a right to return. When expatriates born abroad decide themselves to
return and become citizen residents, they will of course have to accept all regular domestic
duties of citizens. But they should not be forced to return to do military service as a price
for retaining their future right to return. The objection that exempting expatriates creates
an unfair privilege also does not pertain to second generations if stakeholder criteria are
applied consistently in both the country of residence and of parental origin. In this case,
490 R. Bauböck

second generations will anyway be dual citizens by birth or from early childhood rather
than denizens. They may be able to choose where to do their military service, but their
status does not exempt them from this duty.
Consider next taxation of expatriates’ income earned abroad. Again, I do not have a
full overview, but it appears that there are only very few liberal democracies that impose
this transnational duty. The US is, once more, an extreme outlier. All US citizens and
resident aliens have to file tax declarations on income earned abroad. Double taxation can
only be avoided if there is a tax treaty with the country of residence. In contrast with
domestic taxation, there is no statute of limitations, so a debt can pile up over many years.
Penalties will be imposed upon return. Moreover, it is illegal to renounce US citizenship in
order to avoid paying these taxes.43 Ironically, this global regime of US income taxation
provided a reason for extending external voting rights from military personnel to civilians
in 1975 (Bauböck 2005b, p. 764). Canada has a less rigid regulation, according to which
only those citizens and immigrants who retain a residence status in Canada have to file tax
declarations. If the tax rate in the country of residence is lower than the equivalent
Canadian rate, then Canadian expatriates must pay the difference.44
Should taxation of income earned abroad be regarded as part of the citizenship
contract? As a general proposition, this seems indefensible for two reasons. First, taxes are
revenue for governments to finance public services and goods that will be nearly
exclusively consumed by residents and only very marginally by expatriates. Second, the
income of migrants must not be taxed twice by their state of residence and of origin.
Therefore, a former country’s claim to fully tax resident foreign nationals overrides any
interest of sending countries in this source of revenue.
This general argument should be qualified by two contextual considerations. First,
different rates of taxation may work as an incentive for emigration in order to avoid higher
income tax in a country of origin. On the one hand, it is unfair to open an easy loophole for
better-off citizens who can reduce their tax bill by simply establishing a residence abroad.
On the other hand, it is also unfair to impose a domestic tax regime on emigrants who have
given up their residence and therefore no longer extensively consume public services
there. The Canadian model described above takes care of both considerations and appears
to me therefore defensible.
Expatriate taxation has also been advocated as a means of promoting economic
development in sending countries (Bhagwati and Wilson 1989, Straubhaar 2000, Jordan
and Düvell 2003). Compulsory taxation would then be added to voluntary remittances to
provide sending states with much needed income in foreign currency. Ideally, countries of
origin would not raise this tax independently, but would cooperate with receiving
countries whose governments agree to transfer a part of the tax revenue raised from
immigrants. If the external tax were added on top of the domestic one, this would amount
to double taxation of migrants’ income. While there may be a case for special tax regimes
for temporary and circulatory migrants who benefit from mobility opportunities and
consume public services provided by both countries, taxing denizens at higher and
different rates depending on their country of origin’s development needs would be unfair.
In a defensible version, tax rates would be the same for all citizens and long-term
residents, but the receiving country would agree to forgo part of its tax revenue from
denizens’ income. This amounts to linking direct development assistance to economic
gains from immigration, which may be a good idea. It is, however, not clear why such
transfers should be linked to immigrants’ citizenship status instead of being related to
migration flows and immigrant employment. Even development goals provide therefore
no convincing argument for external taxation of expatriates.45
 Citizenship Studies 491

The third external duty that I want to consider here is compulsory absentee voting.
Only a few democracies regard domestic voting as an enforceable legal duty,46 and most
of these do not impose this duty on their expatriates. For example, Australia accepts
absence from the country as a sufficient reason for exempting external citizens from the
duty to vote (Green 2007, p. 96). Belgium and Brazil, however, try to enforce voting
abroad. In Brazil, those who fail to do so will have to pay a fine upon return to Brazil or
may face other severe sanctions, such as exclusion from public sector employment.
Nevertheless, the turnout among registered voters has been at about 50% in most recent
elections (Calderón-Chelius 2007). In both the Belgian (Lafleur 2008) and Brazilian cases,
the main problem is that while voting may be mandatory, registration is not. For the large
majority of expatriates who do not register, the duty to vote remains unenforced.
As with general conscription, the case for mandatory voting as a legitimate citizenship
duty is contested. I will consider here only what I regard as the strongest argument offered
in its defence. In order to distinguish pragmatic objections from principled ones, we must
also assume somewhat counterfactually that a duty of external voting could be effectively
enforced for all on whom it is imposed.
I think that even under these conditions, a duty to vote from abroad cannot be accepted.
Lijphart (1997) advocates mandatory voting in order to enhance democratic representation
of economically or otherwise disadvantaged groups of citizens who are less likely to
register and vote voluntarily. Yet Lijphart’s argument presupposes well-defined
boundaries of the demos. The stakeholder conditions that I have proposed provide
rough guidelines on how wide the circle should be drawn with regard to access to
citizenship status, but they do not define a self-governing demos in the narrower sense of a
political community, each of whose members has to enjoy equal opportunities of
representation in democratic legislation. Most expatriates will remain passive citizens who
merely retain their right to return but have neither sufficient interests nor knowledge to
become involved in democratic elections. Self-selection of active and well-educated
citizens who make use of their franchise creates a problem for the domestic democratic
process since those who do not vote will still be subjected to general legislation without
being represented. On the one hand, voluntary external voting is likely to produce a similar
class bias among expatriates, with lower participation rates among migrant workers. On
the other hand, a self-selection of active citizens who make use of their franchise can
enhance the legitimacy of external voting, since general participation of all expatriates
would lead to over-representation of citizens without stakes in the future of the polity.
The general point is that one should not conceive of expatriate communities as a
homogeneous external constituency, as is often done when calling them province nþ1.
From this perspective, expatriates are a distinct but integral part of the polity who share
special interests because of their common (extra)territorial status, in a similar way as do
the citizens of a domestic province. This argument supports also reserved seats for
expatriates in national parliaments (Spiro 2006), which is the current arrangement in only
eleven countries.47 Viewing expatriates instead as individual stakeholders in the common
good of the polity leads to the conclusion that they should not be represented separately
but through deputies who also have a domestic mandate (Bauböck 2007b). We should see
expatriates not as a group united by their origins, but as individuals with different
biographical ties to a country of origin. What most of them share is an interest in retaining
external citizenship, but they certainly do not share the same stake in the ongoing political
process that is oriented through democratic elections.48
My discussion of external citizenship duties has led to a rather sceptical assessment
of their legitimacy. This cautious attitude towards duty-discourse becomes even stronger
492 R. Bauböck

once we move beyond the best-case scenario, in which such legal obligations can be
accepted as serving legitimate purposes domestically and become more problematic only
in extraterritorial contexts. Many non-democratic regimes that do not grant their resident
citizens basic democratic rights engage in efforts to control their nationals abroad. Such
policies can be driven by attempts to prevent regime destabilization through a dissident
diaspora but also by symbolic assertions of national sovereignty vis-à-vis the receiving
country (Brand 2006).

VI. Conclusions
At the beginning of this essay I mentioned the ‘owl-of-Minerva syndrome’ as one
explanation for the neglect of transnational citizenship in political theory. Hegel’s
metaphor suggests, however, not only that political theory is a notorious latecomer, but
also a pessimistic possibility that it might discover transnationalism only ‘with the falling
of the dusk’. External citizens’ dual participation in their countries of residence and of
origin is only possible where governments and native electorates do not interpret
international migration and the links between ethnic minorities and their external kin states
as a threat to state security, territorial integrity and national identity. The prospects for a
stronger legal and political recognition of transnational citizenship remain therefore rather
uncertain.
External citizenship has been unduly neglected by political theorists, who have
generally failed to understand that the political community within which norms of
freedom, equality and self-government apply can no longer be regarded as a single and
self-contained territorial society. In response to claims for minority autonomy within
states, for supranational citizenship in the European Union or for transnational citizenship
for migrants, we need to develop new conceptions of political community that are neither
fully global nor purely national. Instead of taking a single polity as our exclusive frame of
reference, we need to focus on constellations of polities to which groups of individuals are
linked through multiple and shifting ties.
Postmodern theorists have enthusiastically embraced such plurality and fluidity of
membership because they see it as undermining the homogenizing narratives of modern
nationhood. Yet from the perspective of normative political theory, the task of
deconstructing nation-state ideologies is merely a first step. Avoiding the traps of
methodological nationalism should not lead to falling into the opposite ones of celebrating
hybridity, diaspora and deterritorialization for their own sake. Often postmodernists have
joined ranks with postcolonial scholars in emphasizing the subjection and exclusion that
characterize all modes of citizenship without taking seriously its liberating, egalitarian and
solidaristic aspects. What we need instead is a liberal, republican and pluralistic approach
that embraces the universal value of citizenship as membership in a self-governing
political community. From this perspective we can then consider how dominant
state-based conceptions need to be transformed in order to provide migrants and minorities
with an equal right to citizenship.
I have proposed a general criterion of stake-holding as an answer to the question of
which individual has a right to citizenship in which political community. I have then
applied this idea to the acquisition, retaining and loss of external citizenship status, to
specific rights that individuals can claim vis-à-vis their country of external citizenship, and
to legal duties that states of origin may impose on them.
External citizenship is only one aspect of an expanded conception but it provides a
crucial test case that illustrates the limitations of a purely residential account, as well as the
 Citizenship Studies 493

problems with advocating ‘flexible citizenship (Ong 1999) or ‘fuzzy citizenship’ (Fowler
2004) as an alternative.
Purely territorial or residential conceptions fail to take into account the importance of
external citizenship in a world of independent states. Some scholars and pro-immigrant
movements have argued that denizenship should eventually replace citizenship altogether
(Kostakopoulou 2003). If all long-term residents enjoyed equal rights, then citizenship
would lose its liberal value and would instead become a mere symbol of national
belonging. Yet this view ignores that external citizenship is the other side of denizenship,
with the former including rights of return, diplomatic protection and political
participation. Although denizenship itself should have an external dimension as well
(a right to return after a temporary stay abroad), it cannot fully substitute for the claim to
citizenship as life-long membership in a polity.
‘Flexible citizenship’ refers to the opposite idea of entirely instrumental choices of
membership status determined by shifting interests that individuals may have in the
passport of a state where they do not reside. ‘Fuzzy citizenship’ describes an analogous
unilateral choice by kin states that want to include external homeland minorities through
dual citizenship or an external quasi-citizenship status, as the Hungarian Status Law of
2001 did. These phenomena illustrate the real-world consequences of unconstrained
individual or collective self-determination of citizenship boundaries. Both ideas are
normatively indefensible as criteria for external citizenship. They are not only likely
to destabilize friendly and peaceful international relations, but would also create
over-inclusive political communities in which outsiders may determine the future of those
whose fates are permanently tied to the polity.
A stakeholder principle provides an alternative to purely territorial as well as to
deterritorialized conceptions of political community. It justifies external citizenship while
at the same time limiting the claims of individuals and states for the sake of stable and
cohesive self-government.

Notes
1. Drafts of this paper were presented at a panel on ‘Ethical perspectives on the rights of migrants’
at the American Political Science Association Annual Conference in Chicago on 30 August
2007, and at the EUI conference on ‘Realignments of citizenship in Europe’ in October 2007.
Thanks to the Citizenship Studies reviewers and to Joseph Carens, Dilek Çınar, David Owen,
Philippe van Parijs and Christine Straehle for helpful information, responses or written
comments.
2. The concept of citizenship is often also used in a wider sense that focuses on ‘citizenship from
below’ in the sense of active political participation or contestation and of set of virtues that
characterize the ‘good citizens’. My focus in this essay is instead on citizenship as an institution
in territorially structured polities.
3. As pointed out by an anonymous reviewer, the privileging of an immigration over an
emigration perspective may be a particular bias in Anglophone liberal political theory that is
less pronounced in other disciplines and academic discourses.
4. Alternatively, one could interpret ‘external’ as referring to the distinction between the legal
status of nationality and the substantive rights of citizenship. External citizens in this sense
would be those who have a claim to citizenship rights although they are formally non-citizens
and thus outside the legally defined boundaries of membership. In this interpretation, denizens
would be regarded as external citizens of their state of residence. I do not further consider this
interpretation here since it would no longer allow us to compare the status and rights of
immigrants with those of emigrants.
5. One important further differentiation would concern the nature of the territorial jurisdiction.
In this essay, I focus on the claims of international migrants and consider therefore only
494 R. Bauböck

independent states as the relevant political units. In a broader theory it would be necessary to
avoid a statist bias by also taking into account external citizenships of sub-state polities, such as
autonomous provinces and supra-state polities such as the European Union.
6. For preliminary reflections, see Bauböck (2005a, 2007a).
7. Expanding the analytical framework to multilevel constellations with sub-state and supra-state
polities raises additional questions about how to interpret the right to equal membership.
Commenting on a draft version of this article, David Owen has asked whether it is enough if
some individuals are citizens only at a supra-state or sub-state level, for example, if stateless
persons were recognized as local citizens or EU citizens. My answer would be negative. When
considering nested multilevel polities, the right to membership for everyone will have to be
further specified as requiring that everyone is recognized as an equal member at that level that
guarantees the most comprehensive protection of rights overall, which is currently clearly the
level of independent states.
8. Political theorists differ in their emphasis on autonomy or well-being as the fundamental value
that liberal governments have to promote and protect. I do not take sides in this debate because
I think that the principle of stakeholder inclusion that I propose is compatible with both
versions of liberalism.
9. Objective criteria for stake-holding are sufficient for an entitlement to citizenship, but they
are not always sufficient for bringing about a change of citizenship status in the absence of
individual consent. First-generation immigrants should, for example, not be naturalized against
their will even when their long-term residence qualifies them for citizenship.
10. These indicators need to be interpreted in relation to the general conception of stakeholder
citizenship as an expected congruence between persons’ long-term interests and the common
good of a political community. As David Owen has pointed out to me, a foreign national who
soon after taking up residence commits a serious crime and spends many years in prison in the
country of immigration does not qualify for citizenship of that country, although he is
biographically subject to its authorities for a long time and during that time depends on them
for protection of his basic rights. Imprisonment, however, does not create a stake in the future
of the polity. So the criminal’s right to citizenship will depend on his time of previous
residence, not on his time in jail (see Carens 2002).
11. This objection is not meant to deny that all affected interests ought to be taken into account
in political decisions. It is merely an argument that affected interests cannot determine
the boundaries of political membership and democratic representation (Bauböck 2009).
The representation of externally affected interests in domestic decisions may require shifting
certain decisions outwards and upwards by seeking international agreements or building
institutions on a supranational and global level. For example, the US military intervention in
Iraq does not count as a reason for enfranchising Iraqis in US presidential elections. The proper
response to the fact that their interests have been deeply affected by US policy is that, except in
cases of national self-defence, decisions on military interventions must not be taken
unilaterally and based on a presumptive national interest.
12. For a critique of pre-political conceptions of the people, see Chwaszcza’s contribution in this
issue of Citizenship Studies.
13. This critique becomes much more forceful when we consider the claims of sub-state national
minorities whose aspirations for self-government are denied by governments who argue that
minority members have only a right to be treated as equal citizens of the larger state.
14. Deriving citizenship claims from prior subjection could also support citizenship rights for those
who are subjected to external citizenship duties, such as taxation of income earned abroad.
However, this begs the prior question of whether states can legitimately impose such coercive
legislation outside their territories (see section V).
15. Owen limits expatriate claims to voting rights for first-generation emigrants by arguing that
such ‘migrants typically retain a strong sense of identification with their polity of original
nationality, continuing to regard the quality of their own lives as bound to that community of
fate’ (Owen 2009, p. 16). But such a criterion of subjective identity is hardly compatible with a
principle of including all subjected to political authority.
16. Free movement inside the European Union for EU citizens has created an incentive for
acquiring the citizenship of one member state in order to get access to all the others.
17. Recent examples include Romania offering external citizenship to Moldavians and Bulgaria
offering it to ethnic Bulgarians in Macedonia (Iordachi 2009, Smilov and Jileva 2009).
 Citizenship Studies 495

18. See Gans (2003) for an alternative argument for external citizenship rights grounded in cultural
belonging. For a more extensive discussion of dual citizenship for ethnic kin minorities, see
Bauböck (2007c).
19. Global perspectives such as Niklas Luhman’s (1984) view that there is only a single world
society, or John Urry’s (2000) proposal to do away with the very concept of society in order to
understand the impact of global mobility, would also not help to allocate membership in
particular polities.
20. See Favell (2007) for an eloquent advocacy of an open societal perspective on geographic
mobility.
21. See Universal Declaration of Human Rights, Art. 13(2), and International Covenant on Civil
and Political Rights, Art. 12 (2).
22. Dual nationals may, however, be more easily deported than singular citizens if the former can
first be deprived of the citizenship of their country of residence, e.g. because of some flaw in the
naturalization procedure.
23. The two periods are, however, not necessarily the same, since some countries, such as the US,
Canada and Australia select and admit immigrants for permanent residence from the very start.
In any case, an expiry time for external denizenship ought to leave some scope for discretion
and for taking into account personal reasons for a longer stay abroad that do not indicate
permanent return migration (e.g. in order to provide care services for close relatives).
24. In some Scandinavian states, denizens can cast absentee ballots in local elections.
In New Zealand, they can do so even in national elections; however, their external voting
rights expire after living outside the country for one year (compared to three years for
New Zealand citizens) (Waldrauch 2005).
25. Article 7 of the 1997 European Convention on Nationality provides an exhaustive list of
grounds for withdrawal of citizenship by the state that includes a ‘lack of a genuine link
between the State Party and a national habitually residing abroad’. Among the pre-2004
member states of the EU, long-term residence abroad is a sufficient condition for loss of
citizenship only in the Netherlands and Ireland. Ireland applies this provision only to
naturalized citizens residing abroad. The Netherlands does not apply it to residence within
another EU member state and currently allows other potentially affected expatriates to retain
their Dutch citizenship by filing an application (Waldrauch 2006, p. 211).
26. The very common state practice of unlimited intergenerational transmission of external
citizenship iure sanguinis shows how widespread ethnic nationalism still is even among
presumably civic state-nations. ‘At the extreme, people with this [ethnic national] conception
of national identity will include as N’ians grown children of emigrant N’ians who have never
been to N and who don’t speak a word of N’s national language (and even their children’s
children, and so on)’ (Norman 2006, p. 58).
27. Another interesting question about diplomatic protection that I cannot discuss here is under
which conditions the obligation falls on a third state. Citizenship of the European Union
includes a right to subsidiary diplomatic and consular protection by other member states in
countries where the member state concerned cannot provide such protection (EC Treaty Art.
20). Such a general rule of subsidiary protection would be desirable outside the EU context as
well, but it requires at least an international agreement between states that mutually recognize
their duties toward the other member states’ external citizens.
28. Even European countries that require renunciation of a prior citizenship as a general condition
for naturalization (such as Austria, Denmark, Germany and the Netherlands) tolerate dual
nationality when countries of origin refuse to release their citizens abroad.
29. I am not discussing here readmission agreements for third country nationals who have entered a
destination country via a country of transit. Under international law, the obligation to take back
such migrants is less strong than the obligation to readmit the country’s nationals. This is why
European states have put a lot of pressure on the main countries of transit in their
neighbourhood to sign readmission agreements.
30. For a more extensive discussion, see Bauböck (2007b).
31. Along these lines, the Austrian Constitutional Court argued in 1989 that a constitutional clause
according to which the federal parliament is elected by the ‘federal people’ required
introducing external voting, because the federal people consists of all citizens independently of
their residence (VfGH G218/88, 16 March 1989).
496 R. Bauböck

32. See López-Guerra (2005) for an argument against external voting based on a strictly territorial
conception of the polity.
33. A recently published handbook lists 115 countries and territories that allow for external voting,
about two thirds of which grant voting rights to all their external citizens, while one third
restrict these rights in various ways (IDEA and IFE 2007).
34. Political theorists and philosophers have puzzled over the question of whether citizens also
have moral obligations towards each other and towards political authorities that go beyond
their enforceable legal duties (see e.g. Simmons 1979, Dunn 1991, Scheffler 2001).
A republican conception of citizenship leads naturally to affirming associative duties among
those who share membership in a self-governing political community. While arguments for
political obligation in return for the benefits provided by a political authority apply only weakly
to external citizens, political obligations derived from associative duties may extend to them if
they voluntarily retain their citizenship and consent thereby to being members of the political
community. One could even suggest that a consent theory of associative duties of citizenship is
much more plausible for immigrants and emigrants than for native resident citizens who never
have to choose their membership. Since my focus in this paper is on the legal status, rights and
duties of citizenship and their normative evaluation, I will not discuss here any further the
general plausibility of associative duties of citizenship and how they apply in migration
contexts.
35. Diplomatic protection is the only external citizenship right that directly clashes with the power
of a state to subject all who are present in its territory to its own laws. International public law
has developed a comprehensive set of norms and customary practices in order to prevent these
conflicting state rights from leading to actual conflict between the states concerned.
36. Since we are discussing permissible policies of liberal states, I leave aside clearly
impermissible practices such as sanctions against expatriates’ family members living in the
country of citizenship, which might induce involuntary return.
37. Israel and Switzerland are two democracies where the draft still plays a very important role for
domestic citizenship. Both countries, however, refrain from drafting expatriates and impose
this duty merely on voluntary returnees.
38. The case of Turkey illustrates these practices and new trends. An amendment of the Turkish
nationality act in 1995 abolished completion of military service in Turkey as a condition for the
release from citizenship. The main intention of this reform was to make it easier for Turkish
expatriates to naturalize in those countries (such as Germany) that require a renunciation of the
previous nationality. In order to soften this incentive for abandoning citizenship, Turkey has
introduced another option for citizens to buy themselves out of their military duties. Currently,
male citizens between age 20 and 40 who have lived abroad for three years or longer can
choose between serving the full 15 months and paying a fee of approximately e7500. The latter
option reduces their duties to a basic military training of 21 days.
39. See Convention on the Reduction of Cases of Multiple Nationality and Military Obligations in
Cases of Multiple Nationality, Council of Europe 1963, chapter II, and European Convention
on Nationality, Council of Europe 1997, chapter VII.
40. Whether foreign residents should have the option to serve as volunteers in a professional army,
as many do today in the US forces, is an entirely different question.
41. During most of US history only ‘declarant aliens’, i.e. those who had declared their intention to
naturalize, were subject to conscription. Others could request exemption from the draft but
thereby became permanently ineligible for naturalization. This earlier regime still explicitly
tied the draft to future citizenship. The exemption option was abolished in 1951 and foreign
residents were then drafted to fight for the US in Korea and Vietnam (Spiro 2008, p. 98).
42. This US policy also provides a good illustration for the asymmetry of national perspectives
mentioned in section I, because American governments would hardly accept their citizens
living abroad being drafted against their will to serve in a foreign army.
43. See IRS (2008) and Nelson (2009).
44. See Tax Defenders (2007).
45. See Cavallero 2006 for a model that derives a country’s duty of development assistance from
its attractiveness for immigrants.
46. For a detailed list, see IDEA (2009).
 Citizenship Studies 497

47. These are: Algeria, Angola, Cap Verde, Croatia, Ecuador, France (where expatriates have only
indirect representation in the Senate), Italy, Mozambique, Panama and Portugal (Fierro et al.
2007, p. 28).
48. This objection does not rule out a contextual defence of reserved seats for external
constituencies. In countries with large and politically mobilized expatriate communities, a
fixed number of seats for expatriate representatives can help to limit the impact of the external
vote on domestic politics (Bauböck 2007b, pp. 2432– 2435). This consideration played a
prominent role in recent electoral reforms in Italy and Croatia.

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