Multicultural citizenship for the highly skilled? Naturalization,human capital,and the boundaries of belonging in Canada’s middle-class nation-building

Introduction

Due to the liberalization of immigration policies since the early 2000s (Joppke, 2010), naturalization – the process of granting/obtaining citizenship by consent – has gained new meaning. Naturalization is usually the only way through which adult individuals can acquire the citizenship of a country that they are not related to by birth (by means of jus soli or jus sanguinis). Individuals eligible for naturalization tend to hold permanent residence in the country at stake. In the interest of equality and democracy, it is reasonable to normalize their status, i.e. to grant naturalization quickly and easily.

The contrary, however, has been observed in recent years. Due to a number of pressures – Muslim migrants seemingly not integrating, the rise of “passport citizens”, security risks, as well as native populations rejecting multiculturalism and fearing labour market strife – governments urgently need to show that they are “in control”. Among other policy measures, they often resort to tightening naturalization requirements and to making citizenship uptake conditional upon proof of successful social, economic, and linguistic integration, as well as moral “deservingness” (Monforte et al., 2019).

In the past decade, a plethora of studies have been conducted to investigate the scope and nature of these so-called civic integration policies, whether related to immigration, status changes (e.g. permanent residency or naturalization) or mandatory integration requirements. Concentrating on policies, laws, guidelines, and manuals, most studies assess how boundaries are constructed by the state. Taking Canada as a case in point, I examine the permeability, constraints, and symbolic meaning of the different requirements included in the naturalization process from the perspective of those who have undergone the process. The paper thereby contributes to a small but growing body of literature that explicitly examines citizenship “from below”.

Theorizing citizenship as an instrument of social closure and naturalization as boundary work on behalf of the state, this paper asks two questions: First, what are the factors impacting naturalization at the various stages of the process as perceived by new Canadians? Second, what do these factors tell us about the boundaries of citizenship in the multicultural nation?

The analysis is based on interviews with highly educated Canadians who recently naturalized. 37 interviews (12 in French and 25 in English) conducted in 2013 were conducted with respondents recruited by means of a call for participation through the Institute for Canadian Citizenship (ICC) and at citizenship ceremonies in Ottawa with the permission of the Ministry of Immigration, Refugees, and Citizenship Canada (then Citizenship and Immigration Canada). They were part of an immigration cohort that was subjected to a particularly rigorous Canadian-knowledge and language test (in place 2010–2013). ¹ Respondents were asked about their experiences – and probed about potential difficulties – with the three main steps of the naturalization process, which are 1) filing the application, 2) studying the citizenship guide and sitting the test, as well as 3) attending the citizenship ceremony and swearing the citizenship oath.

In the remainder of this paper, after situating Canada’s naturalization policies within current trends and explaining my theoretical and methodological framework, I present the four main findings: 1) blurred boundaries for the highly skilled, and occasional bright boundaries related to 2) management flaws, 3) classed naturalization, and 4) cultural biases. I then discuss these findings in light of the existing scholarship.

Changes to citizenship in Western countries

In the context of increasing immigration and diversity, scholars have observed a shift from national identity based on ethnic sameness to a new state identity accentuating civic togetherness (Goodman, 2014). On the one hand, there is indeed some evidence that Western states are converging towards the liberalization of immigration and citizenship policies as the national identity that states seek to project becomes increasingly thin, and the standardization of citizenship tests has the potential to reduce discretion and discrimination (Joppke, 2010). On the other hand, scholars observe that “‘protecting our culture’ has become a common code […] to deny immigrants full citizenship” (Tonkens and Duyvendak, 2016: 1). Legal rights are only granted after lengthy naturalization procedures demanding citizenship candidates much more than a functional knowledge of culture (Fortier, 2017), such as speaking the local language and mastering basic rules and conventions of their new country’s political and economic life. Civic integration policies have therefore been characterized as a renationalization or culturalization of citizenship (Winter and Sauvageau, 2015) with naturalization procedures creating symbolic boundaries between citizens by birth and naturalized citizens (Fassin and Mazouz, 2009).

At the same time, immigration policies increasingly accentuate the selection of the “best and brightest” and the exclusion of those not deemed an economic gain to the nation. Western leaders – from Nicolas Sarkozy to Donald Trump – expressed envy of Canada’s econocentric immigration policy, which, in the words of the former French President, privileges immigration choisie over immigration subie (chosen not endured immigration). Interestingly, this kind of market fundamentalism has been found to go along with a conservative emphasis on regaining the fundamental values of society. In other words, the culturalization of citizenship mentioned above does not seem to preclude capitalist accumulation, neoliberal forms of governance and pressure towards assimilation. This is what van Houdt and colleagues (2011) call “neoliberal communitarianism” where citizenship regimes are “urg[ing] minorities and immigrants to fit in with [the] wider society, […] self-police their right to difference, [and] avoid becoming a ‘burden on society’” (Löwenheim and Gazit, 2009: 159). Within this context, “diversity” is the preferred mode of immigrant incorporation as it prioritizes immigrants’ individual social and cultural capital over the necessity/ability to become ethnoculturally indistinguishable from the societal mainstream – as in assimilation – and over the allocation of rights and recognition to members of minority groups – as in multiculturalism (Faist, 2009). Citizenship rights are thus transformed into earned privileges (Kostakopoulou, 2010: 833).

The debate over changing citizenship regimes in the 21^st century has been nourished primarily by state-produced rules and regulations (such as policies, study guides, tests). Only recently, scholars started to examine how naturalization is perceived by those undergoing it. They find that citizenship uptake is neither purely instrumental nor void of a weighing of costs and benefits (Damsholt, 2018; Witte, 2018). On the contrary, naturalization is often related to family matters and intergenerational motivations (Street, 2014). It is valued for providing recognition, security, and mobility (Birkvad, 2019; Erdal et al., 2018). While some immigrants – especially the United States – are becoming “citizens by intimidation” (Jones-Correa, 1998: 200) and unconsciously and/or strategically reproduce neoliberal discourses to underline their “deservingness” (Byrne, 2017; Monforte, et al., 2019), they are not without agency. Rather, immigrants transform into “citizen-negotiators” in order to make it through the intricacies of the naturalization process without losing their ethnic or religious dignity (Bassel, et al., 2018; Fortier, 2017). Cultural intimidation seems to be less salient in Canada, where – comparatively speaking – naturalization is experienced fairly positively (Aptekar, 2016). What then does it mean and take to naturalize in the Canadian multicultural nation? This question has so far remained underexplored.

For the past decade, Canada has welcomed roughly 250.000 immigrants per year originating predominantly from Asia and Africa. Of these immigrants, roughly 60% are admitted under the economic class, 27% under the family class, and 12% under the humanitarian class (Statistics Canada, 2017). Since 1967 skilled workers (economic class) are admitted through the points system regardless of their race, religion, gender or national origin. Their selection is based on criteria like education, language skills, work experience, and the ability to work in the Canadian labour market. By contrast, in the family class, admission is ruled by the logic of family reunification. Lastly, the humanitarian class is intended to help those who are forced to migrate due to persecutions (refugees). As newcomers with permanent resident status, since 1971 all three categories of immigrants are welcomed into a multicultural country with relatively easy access to naturalization (Bloemraad, 2006).

Recently, however, scholars have been observing the dismantling of multiculturalism (Abu-Laban, 2014; Winter, 2015b), the prioritization of economy-driven immigration (Dufour and Forcier, 2015; Ellermann, 2019), and a far-reaching citizenship reform aiming to “strengthen” the value of Canadian citizenship by making it harder to get and easier to lose (Winter, 2015a). Under the Conservative government of Stephen Harper (2006–2015), naturalization requirements were tightened, now insisting on physical presence in the country, on the submission of tax reports, additional language tests, and a declaration of the will to reside in Canada. A new citizenship study guide was launched, and the citizenship test was rendered more difficult (Winter, 2015a). While citizenship policies were softened under the Trudeau Liberals (in power since 2015), many of the previously implemented “integrity measures” (such as physical presence in the country and the submission of language certificates as part of the citizenship application) have remained untouched (Griffith, 2017).

Ellermann (2019) observes that core rights associated with economic immigration – e.g. those related to residence and family reunification – are nowadays based upon skill level rather than economic contribution. These considerations are then also applied to immigrants who arrive through non-economic streams, such as family reunification and refugees. This logic of membership “imagines citizens as bearers of human capital, and human capital as the skills and psychological attributes associated with high-status and highly paid positions in the global knowledge economy” (Ellermann, 2019: 3). Examining immigration policies (not naturalization requirements), Ellermann coins the term “human-capital citizenship”.

While Canada has still one of the highest naturalization rates in the world, ² Griffith (2018) warns that its naturalization rate (i.e. the number of citizenship certificates awarded in relation to foreign-born individuals eligible to apply) fell from 85.6% in 2011 (National Household Survey) to 82.7% in 2016 (Census). The drop is even more pronounced when concentrating on recently arrived immigrants who are eligible to apply for citizenship: their naturalization rate fell from 77.2% in 2011 to 68.5% in 2016. Specifically, the naturalization of immigrants in the family class (such as spouses – often women, as well as parents and grandparents) is declining. While Griffith blames the increase in citizenship processing fees for the decline in naturalization, he also finds that education is the best predictor of citizenship test pass rates (Griffith, 2018).

Naturalization as boundary work

Following Weber (1980), the nation-state is here defined as a status group with citizenship as the most important mechanism of social closure. The concept of status group implies that boundaries – and hence conditions of access – are ständisch, i.e. they involve both cultural and economic dimensions.

On the one hand, citizenship policy (as the ultimate institutional materialization of national boundaries) is molded after value-rational criteria, usually reflecting deep-seated understandings of membership (Brubaker, 1992). There is widespread agreement that “civic” and “ethnic” dimensions of nationhood are varyingly at play within citizenship policies (Joppke, 2003) although scholars dispute to which side the pendulum is leaning. In multicultural citizenship – which is here used not so much in reference to Kymlicka’s (1995) seminal work, but rather as a shorthand for citizenship in a self-proclaimed multicultural country – the reference to any singular culture or ethnic dimension is replaced by the normative encouragement of ethnic, cultural, religious and/or linguistic pluralism within the public space. National closure is here modestly remedied by the allocation of symbolic resources to settled and immigrant minority populations (Winter, 2011).

On the other hand, nation-building has historically been an elite project which fostered the socio-economic and socio-cultural ascendance of middle-class citizens, the Bürger. Fehér and Heller (1994: 136) remind us that “Kultur (or Bildung) is the bürgerliche form of self-definition par excellence”. Human capital is today’s version of Bildung (culture/education). It describes a collection of upper middle-class attributes, such as higher education, self-sufficiency, innovation, multilingualism, work experience in the knowledge economy, transnational ethnocultural competences, and access to global professional networks.

For the territorial nation-state, entry and immigration policies can be theorized as a first layer of social closure. Only those who are legally residing and formally accepted as settlers (called immigrants or permanent residents in the Canadian context) are eligible to apply for naturalization. At the formal, legal level, naturalization operates as a second layer of social closure. At large, social closure can lead to social boundaries describing stable patterns of social relations, as well as unequal access to resources and status (Lamont and Molnár, 2002). Citizenship laws are a particularly rigid type of social boundaries. Successful naturalization has therefore been theorized as legal “boundary crossing” (Diehl and Blohm, 2010).

Citizenship laws and other social boundaries are necessarily predicated on symbolic boundaries, which are required to justify the latter. Symbolic boundaries cognitively and discursively separate people into groups and generate feelings of similarity and group membership (Lamont and Molnár, 2002). While they seem to be malleable, they may prove to be more rigid than social boundaries. For instance, it has been argued that symbolic boundaries remain between immigrants who can be/have been naturalized and those who stay behind (ineligible, unable, or unwilling to naturalize), as well as between those who are citizens “naturally” by birth and those who need(ed) to be naturalized (Fassin and Mazouz, 2009). As such, naturalization does not necessarily imply that new citizens are viewed and/or see themselves as equal citizens of their new country.

In order to become naturalized, citizenship candidates must navigate a number of formal requirements that must be met in order to be included legally in a national community (e.g. currently paying 630 CAD per person in fees, getting 75% out of 100% in the knowledge test). These formal requirements are objectified symbolic boundaries.

Other factors impacting boundary drawing within the naturalization process operate at the informal level (e.g., experiencing difficulty with taking a vacation in order to attend the citizenship ceremony, feeling looked down upon because of speaking English with a foreign accent, cf. Fortier, 2017; or being intimidated by agents of the state observing one’s lip movements during the citizenship oath, cf. Khan and Blackledge, 2015).

If passing the formal requirements bestows legal status upon those undergoing it, the formal and informal components of naturalization procedures also promote “images of virtuous citizenship that are often not (yet) juridically enforceable” (Schinkel and van Houdt, 2010: 698). In other words, the social and symbolic boundaries of citizenship find their expression in the formal and informal conditions of naturalization, involving both obstacles (e.g. high fees, long wait times) and enablers (e.g. minimal knowledge and language requirements).

To recall, this research examines the boundaries of citizenship in the multicultural nation by studying the factors that are perceived as positively or negatively impacting naturalization at the three stages of the administrative process: the application, knowledge test, and ceremony. Following the terminology in the literature (Alba, 2005: 20, 25), I call such boundaries “bright” if they are described as rigid, salient, arduous to overcome and “involve no ambiguity about [non-]membership”. I call them “blurred” if they are perceived as easy to cross, “normal”, and allowing for “indeterminate or ambiguous” positioning of individuals. Since all respondents have recently naturalized, it should be noted that none of the boundaries identified here is bright in the sense that it involved obstacles barring a respondent from becoming Canadian.

Based on the literature reviewed above, I differentiate between civic-liberal, ³ cultural-communitarian, ⁴ and human capital related ⁵ boundaries of citizenship. Allowing the empirical material to “speak”, a fourth category was developed inductively. This category captures management issues impacting naturalization. Factors associated to this category of boundary drawing are related to technology, discretion of state agents, and bureaucratic procedures. It operates almost exclusively in the negative, namely in the form of human error and an overburdened system causing unintended and unjustified delays, costs, and difficulties. ⁶

Conflicted boundary crossings

For the new Canadian citizens interviewed for this project, the majority of factors impacting naturalization involves human capital dimensions, which accounts for 195 coding instances of which 88 – thus not even 50% – are classified as involving bright boundaries.

These numbers, along with a comparison of Figures 1 and 2 suggest that naturalization was relatively easy for the highly skilled individuals that were interviewed. Human capital issues abound especially when filing the application (67 coding instances in total), studying the citizenship guide and sitting the test (122 coding instances in total). However, most of the respondents were able to creatively and resourcefully deal with the issues before being welcomed into the Canadian multicultural “family” (CC01) ⁷ at the citizenship ceremony (coding instances: 20 for blurred versus 16 for bright cultural boundaries). The dominant finding emerging from the empirical data is thus about easy naturalization and blurred boundaries.

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Figure 1.

Boundaries implied in naturalization (total).

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Figure 2.

Bright boundaries implied in naturalization.

With the exception of 6 individuals, all respondents were university-educated, with more than half of them holding a graduate degree. Despite purposeful examination, I did not find any impact of characteristics like gender, education level, original immigration status or racialization upon the responses. These social categorizations do not allow us to account for the bright boundaries identified by some of the respondents. Rather, high education levels seem to be the determining factor for better understanding my interviewees’ experiences with the naturalization process. This corresponds to recent findings that Canada’s naturalization regime is failing citizenship candidates from non-economic immigration streams (Nakache et al., 2020).

Admittedly, as all respondents had recently naturalized, differences between bright and blurred boundaries are differences of degree, not of substance. However, brushing off these nuances as solely related to personality (e.g. being generally more or less stressed about exams), personal taste (e.g. enjoying learning about history) or personal circumstance (e.g. having a job offer that requires citizenship) would be too easy. Rather, applying the aforementioned coding scheme (four types of boundary formation that can either be bright or blurred) to the empirical data, reveals the existence of bright boundaries related to bureaucratic failures, classed naturalization, and a narrow eurocentric definition of what it means to be Canadian. All findings will be discussed next.

Naturalization with flying colours in the civic-liberal nation (blurred boundaries)

There were only 56 coding instances for civic-liberal factors impacting naturalization in the data. Civic-liberal forms of closure tend to stipulate procedural elements, which, by definition, are not designed to constitute strong, rigid, “bright” forms of social closure. Indeed, none of the respondents questioned the legitimacy of the Canadian state to enforce its borders, to select immigrants on economic criteria, and to administer a screening process. Overall, respondents found the naturalization process “a fair system” (CC35) with language and civic knowledge requirements not seen as going beyond what seems necessary from a functional point of view.

The civic-liberal boundary only turns bright (in 11 out of 56 coding instances) when power inequalities gain the upper hand, immigrants are “talked down” to (CC21), and procedures are judged as deliberately “illiberal”, excessive or unnecessary. As one respondent put it: “it’s a rite of passage, but for me, it’s not tied to citizenship or immigration, it’s tied to the fact that they want to tell you ‘here’s one more thing you need to overcome before you get to the bottom of the mountain that would be Canadian citizenship’” (CC24). ⁸

As mentioned above, according to my respondents, human capital issues were the most important factors impacting naturalization. There are more coding instances of blurred boundaries than of bright boundaries (see Figures 3 and 4). My respondents note the existence of human capital related requirements of naturalization, but they dismiss them as not onerous for them personally. For the highly skilled interviewees, filing their application was not very demanding. Several compared the process with their experience as students: “It was more stressful to be in university than to apply for citizenship” (CC21). “If you follow the instructions, [like in] grad school, then you should be okay!” (CC16). For them, “all information was available online” (CC02) and “the forms in themselves are pretty self-explanatory” (CC04). They were very confident about their own abilities, entitlements, and financial resources: “I know that my file is complete … I am not a trouble-maker, I am not someone who causes problems” (CC02). “I did count the day, time, contact, everything. I did not make any mistakes on anything” (CC03). “I also paid all the money upfront” (CC16).

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Figure 3.

Blurred boundaries implied in three phases of naturalization process.

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Figure 4.

Bright boundaries implied in three phases of naturalization process.

They were resourceful in finding solutions if needed. One person resorted to provisions granted under Access to Information Act – often used by journalists, lawyers, and researchers – to receive information about her file: “That’s why the privacy applications are quite good because you just get your file and you can see for yourself” (CC04). Another respondent “finally went to [her] MP’s office and, and said: ‘Here is my situation, can you help me’. … And they did” (CC23).

A similar reliance on human capital can be observed with respect to the study guide and test. For many respondents, “the multiple-choice questions, it’s really easy” (CC10), since “all the answers are in the guide” (CC02). “It was almost … silly having the test at all” (CC16). Some admitted feeling stressed about being tested and therefore prepared for the exam relying on their educational background: “you have to read the book… in its entirety to find the questions, formulate the questions yourself. … It was really préparation baccalauréat [High School Diploma/A-Level preparation]” (CC06). “It’s not like I spent hours and hours cramming but I did read the book maybe 2 or 3 times prior to the exam” (CC19). Respondents also “downloaded the android cell phone software” (CC18) or “the podcast and … skated up and down the canal” (CC04). They knew how to study, were at ease with the IT requirements, and built knowledge acquisition into their daily routine. Few doubted that they could actually fail: “I know for sure I will get it [citizenship] because I’m qualified, right?” (CC18).

Finally, my respondents felt welcomed into Canada’s “multicultural” composition at the citizenship ceremony (CC37). They experienced pride and a sense of belonging: “I felt so proud of Canada. I felt so proud of a country that loved so many different people for so many different reasons. A country that could accept such amazing diversity, 46 people from 39 countries” (CC32). “Belonging to this big family and to see … people who are from different origins, from different horizons, from different social levels … And who each have their story, their life trajectory, and who really bring their stone to the building … It’s magnificent … I am proud to finally belong to this country” (CC01). These quotes exemplify the blurred multicultural boundaries of Canadian citizenship.

Citizenship for the highly skilled and what then?

Even though the new Canadians interviewed for this study were part of a cohort that was subjected to a particularly rigorous edition of the citizenship knowledge and language test (in place 2010–2013), they did not experience any unusual difficulties in fulfilling the requirements. By and large, their descriptions of the Canadian naturalization process fall within what has been termed liberal citizenship policies (Goodman, 2014; Joppke, 2010). They felt that “Canada treats everybody the same”, and that the naturalization process is “fair and … absolutely necessary … if you want people to be able to integrate” (CC35). The enforcement of civic-liberal integration, however, produces counter-productive effects when citizenship candidates feel intimidated to an extent that they say things (e.g. the oath in French) that they do not understand in order to avoid punishment and to “fit in”. In addition, the results of this research offer answers and raise questions for further study and debate.

First, the results of this study align very strongly with scholarship highlighting the attribution of citizenship as an earned privilege on the basis of citizenship candidates’ successful demonstration of individual human capital (Ellermann, 2019; Kostakopoulou, 2010; Schinkel and van Houdt, 2010). Respondents were especially confident about obtaining Canadian citizenship, because they could rely on their (upper) middle class educational and professional training to pass the requirements, and this regardless of their cultural background: “I took a lot of exams in China so I’m good at it” (CC18). Respondents were highly aware of their privileged class position. Embracing the logic of market fundamentalism and neoliberalism suited their situation and application, almost allowing them to feel entitled to Canadian citizenship (e.g. CC04, CC18 above). This confidence was slightly – but not substantially – stronger when their file combined human capital assets such as excellent language skills, university education, and financial self-sufficiency in combination with cultural (being of Western culture) and long-term nation-building (contributing to population growth) considerations. As one interviewee put it: “My application is a no-brainer. I’m an English-speaking, masters-educated American who’s employed and has children here” (CC32). Taken together, the skills and psychological attributes required for naturalization are very much the same as those at stake in the selection of economic immigrants through the points system. In the naturalization process, these economic criteria are then also applied to individuals who join Canada as permanent residents through non-economic streams, such as family reunification and political asylum. This aligns with Ellermann’s (2019) assessment of Canada’s immigration policies.

Second, in contrast to the points system, which operates at an early level of social closure and stipulates these criteria formally and transparently (applicants know the rules and if they do not pass, they will not be accepted as economic immigrants), the naturalization process “tests” human capital skills informally, at an applied level, and after individuals have already been accepted into the country as permanent residents. While this kind of testing did not pose a major challenge to the highly educated respondents in this study, many expressed concerns about the fact that such criteria – which seemed appropriate for evaluating economic immigrants like themselves – were also applied to individuals who had been granted permanent residency on a very different rationale. As one of my respondents put it: The naturalization process “can probably cause difficulties for some people. You know, I mean, if you come here as a skilled worker versus a refugee, then you come for different reasons” (CC12). To them, the language and knowledge test seemed “too hard for many immigrants, who are nevertheless good Canadian citizens” (CC23). Interestingly, discourses of distinction – respondents drawing lines of distinction between themselves and “undeserving Others” in order to portray themselves as more commendable – were less prominent than discourses of compassion. While this attitude contrasts with findings from the citizenship process in the United Kingdom (Monforte et al., 2019), it corresponds to both the “citizen-negotiator” (Bassel et al., 2018) and the dominant figure of “caring Canadians” in national self-representations. Further research must probe if these statements are uniquely the consequence of social desirability effects – new citizens feeling obliged to demonstrate how Canadian they have become by reproducing dominant narratives of national identity – or whether naturalized Canadian citizens – many of whom come from less liberal societies – promote indeed the kind of compassionate citizenship that native-born Canadians like to take credit for.

Third, the fact that only a few bright cultural boundaries were identified in the sample despite the fact that almost half of the respondents were members of racialized groups seems to contradict the claim that neoliberalism as a “post-Fordist regime of accumulation” necessarily “involves a regime of acculturation” (Schinkel and van Houdt, 2010: 701, emphasis in the original). Many of the respondents were enthusiastic about Canada’s ability to “accept such amazing diversity” (see CC32 above) and to belong “to a multicultural society, varied, very diversified” (CC01). However, they also noted cultural biases, such as the eurocentric chauvinism at work in the insistence on gender equality (see CC32 above) and the slippery slope between “fitting in” at the level of language and “fitting in” as a white: “I think it’s probably different for me too because I fit in… like language. … I’m not a visible minority of anything, so like I could pretend like it was my history and, like, get away with it” (CC16). ⁹

The findings of this study suggest that “multicultural citizenship” – as shorthand for membership in the self-proclaimed multicultural nation – becomes available first and foremost – and definitely most easily – to the highly skilled. This then raises questions as to what kind of “multicultural citizenship” is promoted through Canada’s naturalization regime. While a nuanced answer to this question is beyond the scope of this paper, allow me some pointers for future study. Kymlicka’s (1995: 6) multicultural citizenship includes “self‐government rights (the delegation of powers to national minorities, often through some form of federalism); polyethnic rights (financial support and legal protection for certain practices associated with particular ethnic or religious groups); and special representation rights (guaranteed seats for ethnic or national groups within the central institutions of the larger state)”. None of these were highlighted by my respondents. While the Charter of Rights and Freedoms – where Canadian multiculturalism is enshrined – used to be distributed at citizenship ceremonies, this practice was abandoned under the Harper Conservatives (Griffith, 2013). None of my respondents received a copy. Rather, the logic pursued by Canada’s naturalization regime seems to operate somewhere between Joppke’s (2017) multiculturalism of the individual and Faist’s (2009) diversity as a mode of incorporation. The former highlights liberal anti-discrimination and individual rights, and the latter insists that individual social and cultural capital are prioritized over the necessity to become ethnoculturally indistinguishable from the societal mainstream. Within the scope of this paper, I must leave it to the eye of the beholder to which side the pendulum may be leaning.

Finally, this research revealed areas where difficulties for citizenship candidates with lower education levels are likely to occur: the large amounts of online documentation to be handled for the application process; the filling of forms without the ability to request personalized help from an agent; the necessity to engage with the bureaucracies in countries of birth and/or former residence to obtain official documents (a task which is even more difficult for refugees); the high level of literacy and language proficiency (English/French) required for the process and for apprehending the information in the study guide; the direct and indirect costs of the application process; and the inflexibility of work schedules in many low-paying positions rendering appointments with government agencies difficult and/or costly. The many obstacles and delays due to management flaws or human error cited by my respondents also caused unnecessary additional (and probably also unhelpful, unwanted) strain. While they also affected the highly skilled respondents in this study (cf. Van Oers, 2014: 270) – and were all the more frustrating for them because they are often used to some preferential treatment – these individuals were able to resort to their social, cultural and professional skills to circumvent some of the negative effects (e.g. asking their MP for help, “ATIPing” their files, accepting costs, rescheduling work).

More research is necessary to find out who is delaying, failing or abandoning their citizenship application and why. ¹⁰ Knowing more about these permanent residents and their challenges, as well as ultimately facilitating their naturalization, is crucial to avoiding a two-tiered citizenship-status based system within Canadian society. Without equal civic and political rights, a just and democratic society is not possible. Research also shows abundantly that holding citizenship correlates with higher earnings (Pendakur and Bevelander, 2014). In a just society, the benefits of citizenship must be distributed equally across all members of society, including the less educated who crucially enable highly skilled professionals to function by providing contributions in lower paying jobs, as well as unpaid labour in the third sector and in the private realm.

Conclusion

In this paper, taking Canada as a widely envied and imitated example of liberal, “difference-blind” economic immigration, I examined the permeability, constraints, and symbolic meaning of the different requirements of the naturalization process from the perspective of those who have undergone the process. My study reveals that the three steps of the application process (filing the application, studying the citizenship guide and sitting the test, attending the citizenship ceremony and swearing the citizenship oath) constitute mostly blurred boundaries for skilled and highly educated immigrants, with occasional boundaries related to management flaws, classed naturalization, and cultural biases.

Specifically, my study shows that citizenship candidates are indirectly tested for attributes associated with upper middle-class status, such as talent, creativeness, self-sufficiency, and entrepreneurship. Human capital is thus the most important factor for successful naturalization. It enables not only the passing of citizenship requirements but also allows for dealing with numerous administrative errors and oversights. Canada’s naturalization regime operates thus as a second level of social closure along exactly the same economic logic that governs immigrant selection through the points system. This confirms research stating that immigration, citizenship, and multiculturalism policies in Canada are increasingly remodelled along the principles of neoliberal governance (Abu-Laban, 2014; Dufour and Forcier, 2015; Ellermann, 2019). My findings also align with international studies stipulating affinities between neoliberal and communitarian definitions of citizenship (Schinkel and van Houdt, 2010; van Houdt et al., 2011; Van Oers, 2014). However, while the tendency is the same, there seems to be a difference in degree: the highly skilled new Canadians interviewed for this study did not feel overly coerced and reprimanded (as studies have found in the United States, cf. Jones-Correa, 1998) – either because they were able to make creative use of their abilities during the application process, or because, comparatively speaking, Canadian citizenship remains a beacon of a good and peaceful life (Aptekar, 2016; Bloemraad, 2006).

In addition, the highly educated immigrants interviewed for this study naturalized relatively fast and easily despite being members of racial, ethnic or religious minorities. The perceived absence of cultural boundaries speaks to the strength of multiculturalism as national identity and ethos of societal integration. Indeed, within the parameters of this study, the culturalization of citizenship, while not absent, is not as starkly felt or resented as has been shown for European countries (Tonkens and Duyvendak, 2016; van Houdt et al., 2011; Van Oers, 2014). However, even in Canada the attainment of “multicultural citizenship” at the end of the naturalization process does not come quasi-automatically as the same “right” for everyone after years of lawful residency. Rather, citizenship in the multicultural nation is granted as an “earned privilege” to those who demonstrate the successful mastery of the skills and mindset of middle-class professionals. In this respect too, the tendency seems to be the same in Canada as internationally (Kostakopoulou, 2010; van Houdt et al., 2011).

Overall, the logics driving Canadian immigration and naturalization can be characterized as ethnically/racially heterogeneous middle-class nation-building, where the intake of valued human capital trumps explicitly WASP/eurocentric national identity maintenance (Immigration Refugees and Citizenship Canada, 2018). Indeed, immigrants selected through the points system are overwhelmingly middle-class men (as primary applicants; cf. Hudon, 2015). The fact that these individuals are offered fast and easy naturalization (as exemplified by the respondents of this study) underscores the long-term demographic dimension of Canada’s nation-building project, at least with regards to THIS kind of “human material”.

By contrast, these immigrants’ (female) spouses, as well as individuals admitted through non-economic streams, such as family reunification and refugee resettlement, are either delaying to become citizens or struggling to pass the language and knowledge requirements for naturalization (Griffith, 2018; Nakache et al., 2020; Xu, 2018). As such, the findings of this paper raise important questions about the implicit biases and new fault lines of seemingly difference-blind middle-class nation-building through immigration.