Abstract
In Italy, 9.2% of school students come from a migrant family. Of these, 55.3% were born in Italy itself. With the data revealing a situation in which these young, second-generation migrants face educational disadvantages that lead to structural inequality and social injustice, we ask: which adults are supporting them during their education? We present results from a qualitative study that, to date, has involved 25 young adults from migrant families. The data highlight the importance of primary and secondary agents of socialisation, though they more clearly decry the isolation that ‘differentness’ brings. The institutional context (schools, job market, welfare/citizenship policies) generates unintentional segregation that leads to social exclusion. In Italy, two issues come to the fore: (a) the inadequacies of the school system (curriculum, teacher training, support of L2 acquisition) and (b) citizenship laws that penalise second-generation migrants.
Introduction: A world on the move
Italy’s state-school population includes 193 different nationalities. A total of 814,851 (9.2%) of pupils in the country (Ministry of Education, University and Research [MIUR], 2017) are of non-Italian nationality (n.I.n.), though 55.3% of these ‘non-Italian’ students were born in Italy. Among under-18s, this statistic rises to 72.7%. Thirty years after the first measures promoting the integration of migrant pupils were announced, the data tell a story of educational disadvantage, which itself speaks of an ingrained structural inequality.
The Italian school system has taken the path of integration and (in theory) an intercultural approach to teaching and learning (MIUR, 2007, 2012, 2014). The data suggest some progress and a ‘progressive capability [of the system] in integrating non-Italian children and adolescent’ (MIUR, 2014, p. 4). However, a number of characteristics place Italian schools at an intermediate level, with n.I.n. students still lagging academically. And though the share of students being held back a year has dropped by 10 percentage points over the most recent five-year period, recent statistics (MIUR, 2017) confirm the impression that there are structural disadvantages attributable to the school system itself. For instance, the figures for students who are behind in relation to their direct contemporaries break down as follows (Foundation for Initiatives and Studies on Multiethnicity [ISMU] & MIUR, 2016, p. 9):
Primary level: 13.4% of n.I.n. students, compared to 1.8% of Italian nationals; Lower-secondary level, 39.1% of n.I.n. students and 7% of Italian nationals; Upper-secondary level, 63% of n.I.n. students, 22.4% of Italian nationals.
These figures are partly attributable to the widespread practice of placing first-generation migrant children in the year below their contemporaries. However, beyond primary education, as greater demands are placed on students’ abilities (especially their command of ‘academic’ language), the disparity increases (MIUR, 2017).
We must also consider adolescents who drop out of education early. Among ‘native’ Italians, 13.6% are ‘early school leavers’; this figure rises to 27.1% for other European Union (EU) nationalities and 34.4% for non-EU students.
Second-generation 1 young people in Italy are required to attend some form of upper-secondary education (education is compulsory till the age of 16). Vocational colleges, which offer a route into work but less so into university, attract a disproportionately large share of students from a migrant background (28.9% of Italian-born n.I.n. students; 38.8% of n.I.n. students born in other countries – ISMU & MIUR, 2016; MIUR, 2014).
In 2013, the level of Not in Education, Employment or Training status among 15 to 29-years-old in Italy broke down as follows: 24.7% of Italian nationals, 34.6% of other EU nationals, 35.9% of non-EU nationals (Ministry of Labour and Social Policy, 2015).
These substantial figures reveal a ‘deep-rooted disparity’ in the academic progress of students from migrant backgrounds (ISMU & MIUR, 2015, p. 9; MIUR, 2014). In short, the statistics (ISMU & MIUR, 2016; Italian National Institute of Statistics [ISTAT], 2016; MIUR, 2017) reveal a narrative in which educational disadvantages lead to structural inequality that in turn translates into, or reinforces, phenomena of social injustice. In this sense, one of the most significant conclusions of the theoretical review carried out is the lack of cultural recognition afforded to migrant students that is still detected in Italian schools. The majority of the didactic experiences observed either ignored or discriminated against the cultural differences of migrants, clearly fostering a model of cultural assimilation (Ambrosini & Caneva, 2009; Ambrosini, 2004; Caneva, 2011; Damiano, 2008).
Against this backdrop, it seems reasonable to explore such questions as: which adults are supporting young second-generation students during their education? Where, and to which groups, do second-generation youth feel they belong? What is their identity? What models of social justice and equality inform the policies that affect them?
Pathways to integration
The position that second-generation young adults occupy in society is not only central to their chances of success as individuals; in terms of a genuine shift towards greater interculturalism, it is a key factor in the very process of inclusion and social cohesion.
North American studies suggest that second and third generations of migrant families face a challenging – and diverse – future. From the concept of ‘second-generation decline’ (Gans, 1992 in particular) to the theory of ‘segmented assimilation’ (Portes & Zhou, 1993), the future of these young adults appears less than rosy. Traditional, linear models of assimilation no longer fit the experiences of today’s migrant families. The diversity of the ethnic groups involved, combined with the neoliberal mechanisms of our economies and individualistic models of identity, create a more complex reality.
Certain authors have identified a degree of upward mobility among second-generation migrants (Kasinitz, Mollenkopf, Waters, & Holdaway, 2008). However, in the societies most affected by the economic crisis and the related precariousness of the job market, opportunities for second-generation youth have become scarcer. For individuals with little education, the chances of upward social mobility are slim to none. The crisis affects sectors with fewer resources more negatively. The most disadvantaged people are the weakest, those with the least qualifications, the highest poverty index, the lowest levels of social support and an irregular administrative situation, and as the data reveal, the immigrant collective and their children are among them (Pajares, 2010; Quiroga & Alonso, 2011).
To process this complex reality, European academics have turned to the theory of segmented assimilation (Crul & Vermeulen, 2003; Heckmann, Lederer, & Worbs, 2001; Penn & Lambert, 2009) whereby they consider the forces affecting young people from migrant backgrounds in terms of the modes of integration proposed by Portes and Zhou (1993). European studies have identified – alongside the benefits of ethnic cohesion – an elevated risk of ‘downward assimilation’ that correlates with low levels of education and high dropout rates.
However, although the question of ‘context’ was addressed in Portes’ model (Portes & Rumbaut, 2001, 2005) in terms of the society/community in which a migrant family lives/is received, and how it is organised (Haller & Landolt, 2005), the importance of specific local or national contexts in determining pathways to assimilation is more central to European research (Ambrosini & Caneva, 2009; Crul & Vermeulen, 2003; Doomernik, 1998; Eldering & Kloprogge, 1989; Fase, 1994; Heckmann et al., 2001). Such studies echo the position posited by Reitz (2002) who, working from a Canadian perspective, suggests that both the country where second-generation young people live and the labour market they are faced with have a significant bearing on their prospects.
Crul, Schneider, and Lelie (2012) have proposed the ‘integration context theory’: by considering the progress of individuals against a wider, systemic backdrop, and comparing the trajectories of young people from similar socio-cultural backgrounds in eight European countries, it is possible to gain a better understanding of the processes of integration experienced by second-generation youth and the forces that shape them. Alongside the characteristics of specific individuals and families, the theory goes, the opportunities provided by the context in which young people live are fundamentally important, as are the conditions created by institutions: school system/labour market, citizenship/welfare policies (Crul et al., 2012). Key factors for educational outcomes include the age children begin compulsory schooling, selection methods for secondary-level schools and support in learning the local language. In turn, education can itself be shown to be the key motor in driving successful outcomes for second-generation youth (Fortuin, Van Geel, Ziberna, & Vedder, 2014; Márquez-Lepe and García-Cano Torrico, 2014).
The Italian context
Studies conducted in Italy reveal the extent to which the country’s schools actually constitute a sort of obstacle course for students from a migrant background (Besozzi, 2011; Casacchia et al., 2008; Santagati, 2011; Tieghi & Ognissanti, 2009). For these students, school represents the first, ongoing encounter with the dominant society. It is the system that socialises younger generations in terms of language and the values and codes of conduct of the environment in which they live, a crucible in which the most disparate ethnic groups can meet and merge (Arendt, 2006b). As such, the fact that the academic progress of students of migrant origin is dubious to say the least (albeit with isolated successes) is a concerning issue for the young people in question, but also for their families, and indeed for the country as a whole (Giovannini, 2011; Orioles, 2013).
Voices of the second generation. The study
Our approach was essentially phenomenological-eidetic (Husserl, 2002; Moustakas, 1994), the principal interest being participants’ experience of phenomena: what difficulties do they encounter on their journey to adulthood? What is their sense of belonging and identity? Who is supporting them? With this in mind, we aim to involve a 100 second-generation young people.
The study comprises four phases:
Phase 1 (completed): 15 semi-structured interviews; Phase 2 (ongoing): building on phase 1, participants for a new phase of interviews are asked to submit in writing, prior to the interview, a short personal history. Ten interviews have been conducted so far, with 10 accompanying narratives; Phase 3 (planned): focus groups involving available participants from the previous interviews; Phase 4 (planned): in-depth interviews based on results of phase 3.
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The criteria for selection are as follows: born in Italy; migrant parents who are still resident in Italy; good standard of Italian; good academic performance; participating voluntarily. The 25 participants interviewed to date (17 female and 8 male, in 15 phase 1 and 10 phase 2 interviews) are all aged 18 to 26. Their families originate in 10 different countries in Asia, Africa and Eastern Europe.
The key questions are: What does ‘belonging’ mean to you? To what/whom do you feel/think you belong? What difficulties have you encountered in your own life? What support have you received? The study seeks to find, in the participants’ accounts, a sense of what it means to grow into adulthood in this sort of no man’s land between two or more cultural universes, specifically within the Italian context, and at a moment in time in which the winds of the political far-right are beginning to pick up, once again, across the Western world. We ask: what characterises the experiences of young adults from a migrant background in Italy, and do these experiences share structural commonalities?
The interviews were conducted by one of the two authors, who was introduced to participants via the social circles of certain of her university students. The researcher met with each participant twice. At the first meeting, the participant was presented with the project and asked whether he or she would be prepared to take part. The interview would take place during the subsequent encounter. In the second phase of the study, participants were also asked at the first meeting if they could prepare a written, narrative account (Atkinson, 2002). This instrument was added with a view to giving due space to the subjective aspect of the participants’ experiences (Bruner, 1994). The narrative text was to be given to the researcher either prior to, or on the day of, the administration of the interview. For the interviews, we adopted a semi-structured model, a choice that reflected our appreciation of both the effectiveness of this format as a knowledge-gathering instrument, but also the educational benefits it offers for the participants themselves (Sorzio, 2005). The introductory ‘meetings’ took place either at the university or in a nearby café, or occasionally over the phone. The interviews were carried out at the researcher's own office or home, or else at a quiet location selected by the participant.
The first phase of the study was carried out during the 2016–2017 academic session, the second phase in the 2017–2018 session. On average, the interviews lasted 40 minutes. An audio recording was made of each interview and subsequently transcribed, with each participant given a copy of the transcription.
The research data is constituted by the full transcripts of the 25 interviews conducted and analysed so far, and 10 short narrative texts collected during the second phase. The study applies the precepts of ‘grounded theory’, a research methodology that seeks to operationalise the underlying spirit of phenomenology in the way it configures the process of data codification. This approach is known as ‘open coding’.
In keeping with this principle, the categories of data presented here were not determined a priori. Rather, they emerged from the analysis of the data itself. In order to ‘make the data speak’, the researcher has to be careful to maintain what Edmund Husserl defined as ‘faithfulness to the phenomenon’. Working separately, the two researchers involved carried out a provisional conceptual analysis of the data, identifying a number of ‘labels’ which would subsequently be compared and cross-referenced to establish a consensus as to the ‘units of meaning’ that had emerged. These units of meaning were then grouped under specific headings.
The participants’ narratives were analysed by the authors in the same way.
The data
The interviews/narratives highlight the complexity of the challenges facing second-generation youth in finding themselves and their place in the world (an internal process as much as an external one).
Experiences and strategies
Under analysis, the data aggregate around certain issues about the journey to adulthood of the second generation: (a) the denial of recognition; (b) belonging and identity; (c) isolation.
Denial of recognition: A common theme across the interviews is the lack/denial of recognition (Honneth, 1995), this taking the form of one of a number of micro-aggressions (Sue, 2010): humiliation, derision, invisibility (Rankine, 2014). Such experiences are either articulated directly or emerge indirectly, e.g. when an interviewee speaks of the family gaining the recognition of ‘native’ acquaintances: Once people have known you for a while, they realise you’re a good person, that you’re not going to blow yourself up, that nothing’s going to happen. (I2G9/20)
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I went to the supermarket and bought some bananas. I was only getting bananas and a father and his son ahead of me had a full trolley so they let me go first. I said: ‘Thank you’, and the father said: ‘We’re letting this banana-muncher go first’. (I2G17/65) At the airport it has happened a few times that people, I suppose at the security checks, have looked at my citizenship twice to check if it is real. (I2G21/53)
The question of belonging: The questions that these young adults live with daily – and see reflected in the eyes of others – concern identity and belonging: ‘Who am I? Whom am I like? Where do I belong?’
Most have experienced the impossibility of settling on a single identity. They straddle the border between one world and another, yet remain marginalised. They ‘are already two things. Choosing would mean cutting themselves in two, or becoming half of what they are’ (Pons, 1986, p. 97 4 ).
As such, these young people recognise within themselves a dual belonging (Cologna, Granata, Granata, Novack, & Turba, 2009), which can take either a positive (I am both Italian and …) or a negative form (I am neither Italian nor ….).
It is in this separation/duality that their identity takes root. It can be fertile soil for uncertainty, conflict and fragility (Beneduce, 2007). The ambivalence of the world around them and their emotional and psychological isolation give rise to an uncertain identity that amplifies the risk of feelings of marginalisation. In the end, they learn to live with these experiences, burying them in their subconscious. Some chose to align themselves with a single culture (4 out of 25), migrating, in a sense, into the community of their ethnic similar (Sandberg, 2018). Here, they recognise themselves and receive recognition. The ethnic framework offers emotional and psychological validation as well as economic support and a sense of belonging, all reinforced by corresponding social structures. All they have to do is chose one camp, one identity; it is a choice that seems to be asked especially of young women, but also one that appears to appeal to them. Previous research with second-generation adolescents has indicated that girls in particular feel they are controlled by their parents (Allemann-Ghionda & Meyer-Sabino, 1992). This may be because, in many cases, it is women who safeguard the traditions of the family and the culture of origin. In many cultures, it is in the female members that the honour of the family resides (Chowdhry, 2007).
It is also women who must make the greatest effort to reconcile the values of the family’s native culture with those of the host society, to act as mediators in the processes of identity (re)construction and to oversee the participation of the family’s children in schooling and education. It is a set of responsibilities that leads to overload and stress for many women, and ultimately the compulsion to choose one identity over the other.
Others opt for a purely internal process of migration. ‘Interior’ migration, in this sense, sees a cultural and symbolic shift between west and east, from one cultural system to another (at times accompanied by new spatial behaviours). The resultant trauma can have physical manifestations: I had problems for years during my adolescence. I had to see a psychologist because I was having physical problems, eating disorders, depression, things like that. Dealing with it, talking about it with my parents wasn’t so easy, which itself was part of the whole immigration-integration thing because in my parents’ culture in Africa you don’t admit to something like depression. So for them, it isn’t really a thing, and when I tried to talk to them about it they would suggest praying, or say to give it time: ‘time passes, you’re still young’. But it wouldn’t go away and they didn’t understand that I needed help to get over it. (I2G1/18)
Isolation: The feeling of being denied recognition is accompanied by a sensation – echoed across the interviews – of always facing the world alone.
The solutions young people adopt in dealing with these emotions are varied. It depends on the social and human capital at their disposal, and the presence – or absence – of adults who can guide them, or simply provide a fixed point of reference.
At times, the preferred strategy, often encouraged by the family, is one of minimisation: […] at the start, you come into a new situation, like playing a sport, and you’re new and you feel you are a target. [I] didn’t really know how to handle it. I talked to my father, who said, ‘Let them say things. It will hurt at first, but you’ll get used to it’. After that, it really became automatic. I mean, if someone on the street called me ‘nigger’, I would just laugh … (I2G21/22) ‘you need to learn to act like it doesn’t mean anything’. [Do not react. Act] ‘as though the hostile (or deliberately avoided) gazes, and the muttered (or shouted) words, were not really directed at you’. [As though you weren’t] ‘naked and trembling at the heart of a hostile forest, with nobody to protect you from the wild beasts’. (Miské, 2016, p. 9)
Recent research across Europe ‘continues to reveal adolescent immigrants at elevated risk for emotional and behavioural difficulties. […] Among predictors of risk, […] levels of perceived discrimination have received wide spread empirical support’ (Walsh et al., 2018).
If, for some, the temptation to seek refuge by embracing one identity over the other proves irresistible, a more common solution is to struggle to earn recognition. This takes different forms, a renewed dedication to academic success, perhaps, or joining a sports or music group. For others, it leads into groups that are defined by their marginality, their difference, their rebelliousness, groups that offer a sense of recognition, belonging and protection ‘against’ an apparently hostile world and its rules. Becoming a bully might seem the only available way to take control of one’s own existence and end the humiliation. In one internationally comparative study conducted across Europe, adolescents with migrant origins (both first and second generation) reported a higher level of involvement in risk behaviours (bullying and physical fighting) and a lower level of psychological well-being (Stevens et al., 2015; Walsh et al., 2015).
Whichever path the individual chooses – or is led down – a common feature in the lives of the interviewees is their sense of isolation. As previous research with second-generation migrants has underlined, in Italy these young people find themselves teetering between assimilation, social marginalisation and rebellion (Orioles, 2015).
The solitude of these young adults, adolescents and young children who have grown up at the margins, who embody the margins, who are called to occupy the middle ground and deal with duplicate processes of filiation and affiliation (Dusi, 2008), is a special solitude, powerful, deep and insurmountable. ‘For them, “to grow” means to become demiurges, forging themselves, their own destiny’ (Beneduce, 2007, p. 136). As we see in the case of this young girl: Before I started lower-secondary I didn’t have friends. In fact, the people around me did nothing but make fun of me. It made what should have been a straightforward time in my life really difficult. I cried a lot, but not in front of other people. I have always been a dreamer, but I’ve never had enough belief. Whenever I needed someone to lean on, to give me a push, I ended up realising that I only had myself to rely on. Today, though, I have ambitions, plans. Ambitions that I used to be too afraid of, because they were too strong to actually do anything about. I like being Italian and I love my culture. (Extract from narrative submitted prior to interview).
Who is supporting them?
These young people highlight, in both positive and negative terms, the central role played by primary and secondary agents of socialisation, particularly (a) parents and (b) teachers.
The family: Unsurprisingly, the family is considered the primary source of support. The experiences of second-generation young people in terms of the traditional ideal of the ‘united family’ are characterised by memories of mutual support and reciprocity, but also by the pressure to conform (Wessendorf, 2016). Parents do evince a powerful desire to protect their children from experiences of discrimination (Iqbal & Golombok, 2018) and often make a concerted effort to influence the path their children take. Ultimately, even if they do not always possess the best skill set for guiding young people along the path to adulthood, they, and the family, represent a fixed point of reference: I have to say that my mum is my role model – absolutely – because she is so strong. To come here to Italy, on her own, empty-handed, with three children and bring them up, that is really difficult. And I have to say that she has done a great job because all my siblings and I have graduated from university. (I2G25/4) In all societies, a critical function of parents is to act as guides for their children. Immigration hinders this function by removing the map of experience necessary to guide children competently in the new culture. (Suárez-Orozco & Suárez-Orozco, 2001, p. 157) If you ask me, being born to migrant parents is not easy because it depends a lot […] on the character of the parents you have […]. It’s not that I think it’s a problem if your parents are different, but it is up to them to make it easier for their children to integrate by integrating themselves. (I2G13/24-26)
Besides, every family and its story – the specifics of its migration and reception, its economic status, the social capital at its disposal – is unique (Carrasco, Pámies, & Beltrán, 2009).
Human and family social capital can be an important resource for second-generation migrants but, as the integration context theory highlights, its influence is greatest when educational policies, institutions and services are inadequate. In fact, education ‘is one of the most crucial indicators for assessing the overall position of the second generation’ (Crul et al., 2012, p. 102).
The Italian school, a ‘mixed bag’: For these young people, school is where two worlds – that of the family, and that of the wider society – come together. Given the role assigned to schools in Italy, it is unsurprising that they tend to emphasise the importance of what differentiates the local society from the family’s society of origin (Glenn, 2004, p. 170) and fail to value forms of identity or knowledge that they are unable to integrate. If ever there was a place where the children of immigrants might feel alienated, then it is the school, an institution designed to immerse them in the culture in which they have arrived, until it becomes native to them. (Damiano, 2008 p. 108)
The Italian school is a ‘mixed bag’ for the children of migrants. It is where they ‘discover’ they are different, where they are made fun of. At school, their personal world of symbols is not recognised, it does not work. I think the first day of school was the first time I really realised I was different, that I wasn’t a ‘Martina’ or a ‘Giulia’. I was a ‘Safia’ and this was a problem. The remaining four years at primary school were very hard. The person I am today grew out of what I experienced back then. (I2G4/10)
At school, they are compelled to love a world that does not recognise them, that sees their differentness as inferiority (Arroyo & Berzosa, 2018; Del Olmo, 2012). The educational space is often dominated by routines of normalisation that ‘actively work to disempower and shut out students’ from different backgrounds (Appadurai, 2017, p. 74). But it is also the place where they can fight to earn recognition, to show that, in spite of everything, they are worth the same as the others, maybe more. It can also be the place where they find friends, and welcoming, supportive adults.
At primary school, Safia had to deal with humiliation and rage without any help from her teacher. At lower-secondary school, however, she encountered an adult figure who took her under her wing: There was a teacher […] who really helped me […] who found a way to mediate the suffering I had experienced in primary school and the anger I felt during my time at lower-secondary. Teenagers are always a bit angry – spots, boys – but I really had a lot of anger, and this teacher helped me a lot, because I couldn’t say anything about it at home. At home I was always good, but everything I’d gone through at primary school, well, when I got to lower-secondary, I don’t know why, I felt bigger, stronger, so I made sure to make everybody pay. (I2G4/30)
The macro-political implications of the results
In Italy, we face two issues that correlate closely with social injustice: (a) the inadequacy of the school system (curriculum, teacher training, support of L2 acquisition) and (b) citizenship laws that openly penalise second-generation migrants.
Educational policies and the school system
Statistics published by Italy’s Ministry of Education (MIUR, 2017) suggest that the school system is not equipped to accommodate the ethno-cultural diversity that these young people bring with them or support their academic development (MIUR, 2014). Since the early 1990s, education policies in Italy have targeted the full integration of children from migrant families. This ambition, however, has not been matched by the necessary changes to the system, such as:
Measures to combat prejudice, discrimination and racism and promote genuine social and educational integration. Greater inclusion in pre-school education (ages 3–6).
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The costs associated even with publicly provided services (transport, meals) means migrant parents tend not to use them. Some form of financial support is required. In-work training for teachers, focusing particularly on intercultural education and teaching Italian as L2, which is a crucial factor for academic success. Recruitment of teachers who share the same L1 as the students.
The socio-cultural and methodological immaturity of the Italian school system is rooted in its fundamentally assimilationist approach and evinced by a patchwork landscape in which cutting-edge practices can appear in one setting alongside archaic methods in another (Allemann-Ghionda, 2008). As such, it reflects the socio-cultural immaturity of the country itself (Orioles, 2013, 2015).
Citizenship
Successful applications for Italian citizenship have risen from less than 50,000 in 2011 to almost 159,000 in 2015. Forty-two percent of the people granted Italian citizenship in 2015 were under 20. The number of Italian-born young people choosing to take Italian citizenship when they reach 18 has also increased (c. 10,000 in 2011 to over 66,000 in 2015 – ISTAT, 2016).
Citizenship can strengthen young people’s identity, and the sense they are recognised by, and belong to, the country where they have grown up. But obtaining citizenship is not easy. Young people of foreign parentage are seeking legal recognition that they belong to (and in) the country where they were born and have lived all their lives. They want equal rights and opportunities. However, despite a lengthy battle, the law, which is based on the principle of jus sanguinis, has yet to change. Heavily restrictive, it allows those young people who meet the qualifying criteria only one year (between their 18th and 19th birthdays) to submit all of the necessary documentation to support their application for citizenship. If they do not complete their application within this one-year window, they are considered to be foreign citizens, whereafter the route to Italian citizenship becomes much longer.
Furthermore, as the interviewees point out, having Italian citizenship does not automatically mean they will be recognised as Italians. Here again, Italy betrays its immaturity. Romeo feels he belongs to (and in) Italy, but qualifies this assertion: [Anyone who meets me would] say I don’t seem Albanian, that I don’t even have an Albanian accent. This, itself, is an important factor, if you ask me, and the fact that everything about me is completely Italian, apart from my parents. I play sports like all the other kids, I study like all the other kids. Last but not least, I received my citizenship last year, so I don’t feel at all different from the others. (I2G2/28)
We are reminded that in Italy, today, ‘educational segregation’ (MIUR, 2017; Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development-Programme for International Student Assessment, 2010) – itself a form of social injustice – goes hand in hand with reduced social mobility. That we see disproportional academic segregation and high numbers of early leavers among students from a migrant background, and that they face such difficulties in obtaining citizenship, casts doubt over their chances of ever achieving real equality of opportunity (Eve & Perino, 2011), and undermines attempts at social cohesion.
It is also testimony to the discrimination that exists in schools and other life contexts. The young people interviewed perceive this discrimination as a barrier to exercising choice, a clear denial of their rights (Caneva, 2011; Girardi, 2012). It prevents them from experiencing their multiplicious sense of belonging while still being recognised by the society around them as true ‘Italians’. Italy’s history as a multicultural country is a short one and shifts in the mindset of a culture can take decades.
Discussion and conclusions. A long uphill journey
Our research with 25 second-generation migrants between the ages of 18 and 26 highlights the way that the transition to adulthood is a difficult and complex process for young people from a migrant background, even those who have graduated from secondary school or university.
The data presented here are undoubtedly still only partial. All the same, the analysis has enabled us to highlight a number of significant aspects of the participants’ lived experiences such as the scarcity of support afforded them by the social and institutional context in which they live. In these young people’s experiences at least, it is a context characterised by laissez-faire attitudes and rejection. Other research in Italy has cast a light less on these sorts of difficulty and more on the resources that being a second-generation immigrant tends to confer (Granata, 2015). In order to assess whether what has emerged in the interviews represents common experience among second-generation young people, subsequent phases of the study will involve focus groups and additional interviews with sub-groups of a ‘homogeneous’ background (for instance, 10 interviews have already been conducted with second-generation young people of Brazilian and Argentinian origin; 10 more will be conducted with young people of Maghreb origin, 10 with young people of Chinese origin, 10 with young people whose families come from Central Africa, etc.). The aim is to assess whether it is possible to separate the impact of phenotype and religion on the experience of being a second-generation young person (prejudices, stereotypes, etc.) from what we might call the ‘essence’ of the experience itself.
Although the various participants focus on different aspects of their experiences, every interview reveals episodes in which, at one time or another, the interviewee has encountered a lack of recognition and/or experienced a sense of rejection and isolation. Each individual has developed his or her own strategies to deal with such experiences: some take steps to play down such incidents; some become bullies themselves; others choose the path of assimilation. Regardless of the chosen solution, however, or the results obtained, for the young people interviewed the road to adulthood has meant suffering, loneliness and even, in some cases, genuine trauma. The data collected confirms what has emerged from previous studies in terms of the complexity of the phenomenon, and the difficulties and hardships experienced by (even third-generation) students from a migrant background on the path to adulthood (Gualda, 2011; Portes & Rumbaut, 2005; Thomassen, 2010).
For these young people, the encounter with the school system has been particularly significant (both in a positive and a negative sense). It is at their school desks, more than any other situation, that they have been forced to reckon with their differentness. In their classes, they have learned which aspects of their identity are considered most important in the eyes of others (schoolmates and teachers), and which aspects are deemed to be lacking, thus preventing them from being perceived as equals. As pointed out by García-Castaño, Olmos, and Bouachra (2015), immigrant students continue to be treated as though they represent a problem, as though their deficiencies must be compensated for (lack of knowledge of the vehicular language of education, low educational level, ignorance of the host country’s cultural patterns, etc.). When describing their experience of school (teaching methods, communicational resources and processes), the young people interviewed highlight the processes by which, in their experience, this otherness is constructed, processes in which marginalisation and exclusion feature heavily. In many cases, the school confirms its role as a setting of assimilation and control, operating, as an institution, on behalf of society and the political sphere to stifle difference (Dei, 2014). Consequently, in many schools a compensatory approach still prevails when managing cultural diversity (Santerini, 2010). In this sense, the school not only ignores difference, but also helps to reproduce inequality (Arroyo & Berzosa, 2018; Del Olmo, 2012, Santerini, 2011).
At its heart, our analysis of the interviews reveals the role played by the school system in these young people’s path to adulthood and just how fundamental an issue this is. As an institution, the school serves to promote the socialisation of its students within a single culture and to encourage them to recognise and value diversity at both an individual and cultural level. The data collected reveal the distance that the Italian school system still has to travel in this direction, and the reality of a political and social context in which access to citizenship and other rights is anything but a straightforward proposition for members of migrant families that have grown up in Italy. All the same, the school is as well placed as any institution to help tip the scales in the other direction by presenting individuals and the collective with an alternative reality founded on the values of recognition and social cohesion.
Our analysis of the interviews also reveals the fundamental role played, in the Italian context, by adults – namely teachers and parents – in overcoming the obstacles encountered by these young people in their development and education. The importance of these two actors working collaboratively to support students on their path to academic success and social inclusion is also noted in the literature (Garreta & Llevot, 2015; Dusi & Pati, 2014). In this sense, it is necessary to leverage the opportunities that the school generates as a context of coexistence in both its formal and informal spaces (Fortuin et al., 2014; Santerini, 2017). The school is, or must be, the place where an individually and socially diverse student body is offered the chance to experience forms of dialogue that are capable of generating new attitudes and ideas as well as social cohesion. This is why it is essential that the school system be capable, in turn, of recognising, accepting and supporting all of its students, without exception. One of the first steps it needs to take is to analyse its current attitudes to cultural diversity and measure them against the environment it wishes to provide. In this way, it can programme the transformation it needs to undertake.
In their quest for recognition, second-generation young people in Italy have, for some time now, been on the lookout for new opportunities to assert themselves, to find a place for themselves in society. It is partly for this reason, for instance, that we have seen them form groups and associations in which to meet up, compare experiences, and make their voices heard at a national level and assert their right to citizenship (these groups include La Rete G2, Yalla Italia, AssoCina, Giovani Musulmani d’Italia, Millî Görüş).
The experiences of rejection these young people have encountered on their journey to adulthood (in Italy, the country they were born in no less) have fed into their understanding of who they really are and their awareness of their origins (Granata, 2011; Nesteruk, Helmstetter, Gramescu, Hmmad Siyam, & Price, 2015). And even though these experiences of non-recognition, of being made to feel ‘foreign’, cannot only generate a sense of antagonism and drive a retreat into an alternative identity but also offer opportunities for growth, it remains the case that young people in this position are faced with a complex and painful challenge, that of constructing a mature identity for the self at the border of multiple real and symbolic universes, and doing so in a society that is largely hostile and disinclined to accept new Italians with almond-shaped eyes, dark skin or a different religion.
Footnotes
Declaration of conflicting interests
The author(s) declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
Funding
The author(s) received no financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
