Living among strangers in the modern city

1Since the beginning of the Industrial Revolution, city life has been tantamount to modernity. The founding fathers of sociology considered urbanization to be a structural change in human sociality and psychology, highlighting its fundamental ambivalence. [1] On the one hand, it is a place of freedom. Individuals are freed from the social ties and hierarchies that used to bind small communities together. Living among strangers allows people to be themselves—even pushing for strategies of radical individualization—and to relate to one another as individuals in voluntary relationships. On the other hand, the price of individual freedom is high: anomic solitude, moral relativism, blasé cynicism, coldness, uprootedness, the prevalence of generic values such as money and time rather than authentic relationships, etc.

2These changes in social and spatial morphology induce new moral attitudes, e.g., changes in the ways we consider and relate to others. Sociologists and urbanists witnessing the rapid growth in size and density of European cities have uncovered the need for urban dwellers to develop ethical attitudes towards strangers. Are these changes limited to daily private interactions, or do they also involve new political and legal relationships? Political theorists have been deeply inspired by the cosmopolitan potential of cities. Living alongside foreigners can only expand our political horizon and make us experience a truly open society. The freedom and individualization of city life lead to chosen and shimmering forms of communities. A "normative ideal of city life"—based on inclusion, variety, a pleasure found in difference and publicity [2]—and local democratic practices of participation and empowerment show us other ways of looking at politics than through the lens of the nation-state.

3Recent literature correlating life in large urban and diverse areas with the development of "cosmopolitan attitudes" [3] towards immigrants suggests that these analyses are still relevant. From a sociological point of view, however, the causal relationship remains unclear: is it because cosmopolitan-oriented individuals move more easily to cities or because frequent contact with foreigners develops cosmopolitan attitudes? [4] In contrast, a normative line of inquiry could be the following: granting that the spread of cosmopolitan attitudes is a desirable end (because they reinforce democratic and liberal values), what should cities do to foster and operationalize these attitudes through social, legal and political institutions (from local associations to citizenship status)? Furthermore, specifically, what roles should cities play when it comes to migration—when the sociological "stranger" is an actual individual living in a community of which she is not a fully-fledged member? If a city constitutes a different community from the national one, either in kind or in size, could (and should) it have different policies regarding borders, inclusion and integration?

1. Cities and migration

4These are precisely the issues that Avner de Shalit addresses in his new book, Cities and Immigration: Political and Moral Dilemmas in the New Era of Migration. It constitutes a landmark contribution to the urban turn in migration research, connecting different literatures (the ethics of migration and citizenship, democratic theory, urban studies and border studies) with a clear background in political theory. [5] More specifically, he raises three timely questions: (1) Should cities be able to decide autonomously about their borders? (2) Should immigrants living in cities have the right to vote or run for office? (3) What should an inclusive city look like?

5Contemporary literature on the ethics of migration is still very reliant on the opposition between immigrants' (moral) rights to inclusion and the sovereignty of nation-states over their borders. Whereas many intermediate positions have enriched the original debate launched by Joseph Carens's challenging case for open borders, the framing has remained more or less the same. [6] Few have thoroughly considered Carens's hypothesis that "Liberalism [...] emerged with the modern state and presupposes it. Liberal theories were not designed to deal with questions about aliens. They assumed the context of the sovereign state." [7] The very definition or understanding we have of a political community is biased because of historical predispositions towards methodological nationalism.

6Methodological nationalism and methodological statism [8] especially blind us to the normative interest of cities. Compared to nation-states, they are considered as either incomplete (unable to achieve self-determination, particularly in controlling their borders) or redundant (with size differentials not affecting the way institutions and concepts work). [9] Reinvestigating cities as the first and true places of politics is both an epistemological and normative move, which means seeing the world differently [10] and opening up our political imagination above and below state policies and national communities.

7This is de Shalit's starting point, expanded over three empirical claims.

8Firstly, this statist perspective makes us perceive immigration as problematic and suspicious (p. vi [11]). Rather than starting from the fact of living together in cities, and from the norms needed to live in peace, statism invariably opposes us and them, here and there, citizens and non-citizens. Similar to what Abdelmalek Sayad wrote about the pensée d'État, or "state thought" and immigration, statism involves a legalist and abstract take on immigrants that makes us insensitive to our intertwined lives. [12]

9Secondly, cosmopolitanism and globalization do not erase the need and taste for particular and local identities, which only cities can provide for, participating in creation of a "sense of place" (p. 6). Following his work with Daniel Bell in The Spirit of Cities, [13] de Shalit defines the city as a space, a jurisdiction and an "ethos", i.e., a "set of values" distinguishing one city from another and tying its population together into a pragmatic community. [14] It creates a sense of home and ownership among its inhabitants, while acknowledging diversity as its core component.

10The third empirical starting point is that "[H]aving a good sense of place is very important for one's psychological development and for one's well-being." (pp. 14-15). Thus, cities are empirically essential to human intellectual, social and psychological flourishing.

11Of course, many questions follow from these claims: How can we escape the fact that the division between citizens and non-citizens (enforced within a nation-state and hence within cities) remains unaffected by the scale? How protective of the "set of values" can and should city inhabitants (which de Shalit calls "city-zens") be? What if my concept of home and sense of place are denied by the inhabitants of the place in question?

12Before considering the answers that de Shalit gives in his book, I need to mention his original methodological approach.

Construction of a normative repertoire

13Rather than simply unfolding the normative underpinnings of the problem, the concepts, the principles at play, and the justifications for coherent solutions, de Shalit goes on a stroll. Part Benjaminian "flaneur" (p. 26) and part modern Socrates, engaging with people about their beliefs and values (p. 25), he bases his demonstration on arguments "raised by the public" (p. 35). In practical terms, this meant "philosophical discussions" with dozens of inhabitants in eight cities, [15] a subjective and ethnographic approach similar to his previous book. [16]

14He often refers to his "interviewees" arguing for this or against that, although their identities, jobs and how they were chosen are not made explicit. From a sociological point of view, being casual about selection criteria would be a problem. It is not clear why (or how) "a college president in Oxford, a writer in Paris", [17] "a group of political activists", "the owner of a busy café" (pp. 70-71) or "an associate professor at Erasmus University Rotterdam" (p. 146), etc., constitute a representative sample or have particularly relevant insights into the subject matter. Moreover, it might be limiting to simply talk to people and ask them about their opinions without looking at their actual practices and behaviours.

15However, while methodological naïveté is a crime for sociologists, political theorists would barely shrug at it. The goal here is not to produce a sociologically accurate description of migration and urban life but to establish a sound normative repertoire and discuss this analytically. In other words, interviewees suggest to de Shalit an array of possible opinions on the questions he is asking. His job is to sort these out, boil them down to ideal-typical positions based on a set of principles, and evaluate their normative coherence and appeal.

16De Shalit embraces a grounded approach to political theory, paying attention to the actual use and public construction of arguments. It is neither ethnographic nor strictly analytical per se. [18] It builds upon a vast array of empirical literature, and it includes subjective and deliberative interpretations. This approach offers a much more textured analysis that spends time on contexts, policies and people. However, this interview-based methodology falls sometimes short of the analytical inquiry, as de Shalit himself explains. [19] It may suggest that building the normative repertoire solely on the basis of literature might actually be enough. If opinions are systematically reconstructed using the same concepts usually drawn upon in literature, or if the author can replace interviewees when they are not voicing the argument he wishes to discuss, one might question the point of having interviews at all. I will return to this issue when I discus the appendix of the book on the value of "philoxenia" in Thessaloniki, which presents a compelling case for enriching literature with socially embedded concepts (rather than analytically constructed ones).

Cities and border control

17De Shalit has one chapter for each question he is asking: (1) Should cities be able to decide about their borders (who can get in and who could be encouraged to come)? (2) Should migrants have the right to vote or run for office? (3) What does an inclusive city look like?

18Let us start with the first one. It will come as no surprise to anyone familiar with debate on the ethics of migration that there are three main positions: closed borders, open borders and selectively open borders.

19Arguments justifying border controls rely (also unsurprisingly) on the principles of cultural preservation, autonomy, freedom of association, social cohesion and security. What is particularly innovative, though, is that each of these principles appears in a new light when it comes to cities controlling their borders and not states.

20For instance, although preservation of national or public culture has debatably been justified at state level (where the citizenry is clearly demarcated and national identity is synonymous with common destiny), [20] it cannot work for an "urban culture." City life is dynamic in terms of population and pragmatic in terms of common culture. While de Shalit acknowledges that a city has an "ethos", i.e., "the characteristic spirit, the prevalent tone of sentiment, of the city; [...] the social and political values that the city prioritizes" (p. 13), this only justifies the exclusion of criminals and deeply illiberal people.

21Similarly, while nation-states may have control over their civic and territorial boundaries in the name of self-determination, cities decide only about the former: "[E]ven if we accept that a city is entitled to decide not to grant city-zenship rights to immigrants, this does not imply that therefore the city can limit entrance and settlement as well." (p. 38)

22Finally, de Shalit dismisses as empirically false the argument that fear of immigration might undermine social cohesion or urban safety.

23At the other end of the spectrum, arguments for open borders include four main justifications: (a) positional duty, i.e., a special duty to welcome migrants because of the position of the city, be it spatial, cultural or economic. The risk appears over time: "[T]he more a city is socially `better positioned', and therefore the more it attracts newcomers, the less it will be able to offer new jobs, and therefore the less it will be economically `better positioned'." (p. 43). (b) A feeling of unfairness or undeserved privilege that free immigration could compensate for. However, contrary to a strictly unfair birthright privilege, de Shalit argues that city-zens contribute to the city's common good, justifying some control. (c) Utility or economic prosperity. Here de Shalit writes that if controls are costly and migration is beneficial, it is unclear how to objectively measure utility, making the overall calculus and comparison between what is gained and what is lost by whom, impossible. (d) The human right to migration: people should be able to find a community or city in which they can flourish. De Shalit opposes an argument à la David Miller regarding international migration: it would be difficult for anyone to have an unconditional right to move anywhere, hence the need for open borders in every city (or state) (p. 46). In fact, an "adequate range of options" would be preferable. [21]

24The dual belief that de Shalit notices among his interviewees is, on the one hand, the conviction that city-zens have a stake in their city (meaning that they should have some control over who should not be part of it) and, on the other hand, a "built-in instinct to abolish borders": "It is ludicrous, they claimed, to protect the city from its very nature and its essence", which is "all about flows of populations" (p. 47). Thus, a third way has to be found.

25De Shalit's argument is twofold. Firstly, selective refusal is morally permissible "only when it is practiced in order to prevent the settlement of convicted criminals or [...] political criminals, such as racists, neo-Nazis, and so on" (p. 48), who would be direct threats to the city-zens. Secondly, selective invitations are permissible when "successful integration" (based on axiological proximity and economic suitability) is more likely to happen, which is beneficial for the receiving community, and for current and future immigrants.

26Having said that, practical problems might arise: discrepancies between city and state policy; opposition from citizens of other cities to the existence of an open gate in their country; or the risk of a "brain drain" through selective invitations. De Shalit provides a practical reply, i.e., that these should be negotiated either through state-city discussions, "inter-city justice mechanism[s]" (p. 56) or deliberative forums such as Benjamin Barber's parliament of mayors. [22] In other words, while he convincingly argues for cities to be given priority in decisions about their borders, in case of disagreement, deliberation and bargaining are the only available tools. Considering the structural asymmetry of power between states and cities, de Shalit's position might then remain unconvincing.

The political rights of non-citizens

27If cities could have more autonomy from the state regarding their borders, would this also involve some sort of local membership different from national citizenship? The discussion is lively among political theorists, and de Shalit's book provides an important contribution to this. [23] In short, he asks whether we could have city-zenship before citizenship and develops a normative defence for politically integrating non-citizens by granting them local rights to vote and to run for office.

28The question of non-citizens' voting rights has been discussed in the normative and empirical literature, [24] but de Shalit reinvestigates it through the perspective of local membership and participation. The moral impulse is similar to national inclusion: isn't it odd to live in the same territory under the same laws as other people but with some having the right to vote and others being denied it? Besides the legal status of citizens, is there truly a moral difference between a resident and a foreign resident that justifies such a status divide? Furthermore, if economic and social rights are important enough to be granted to foreign residents (as is the case in most liberal democracies), why should they be refused the political right to vote? This is particularly relevant for cities, where the ratio of non-citizens is much higher than at national level, and it remains a realistic requirement since it is already happening locally for EU citizens.

29In a nutshell, having the right to vote is essential for developing a "sense of place", as de Shalit would put it, and for raising one's voice in the democratic processes that affect all inhabitants. Voting participates in securing equal status and dignity (moral value), preventing domination from being entirely ignored by fellow voters or representatives (political value), and sharing a specific "perspective" [25] based on one's migration experience in democratic deliberation (epistemic value).

30De Shalit develops this line of argument and presents several specific points in order to defend the right to vote for city-zens.

31From a consequentialist perspective, the right to vote prevents spirals of segregation and asymmetries of power between those who have a voice (hence power over democratic decision-making processes) and those who remain ignored. It is instrumentally good for democracy, as de Shalit argues well, following the work of Elisabeth Anderson. [26]

32From a fairness perspective, the contributions of all (citizens and non-citizens alike) should create a sense of community based on reciprocity. However, conditioning reciprocity in ongoing contributions might be detrimental to newcomers. For de Shalit, fairness relates more generally to a sense of community. Cities are pragmatic communities where people share "common activities valued for themselves", [27] yielding moral bonds, fellow feelings and reciprocal obligations that are incompatible with a divided status between city-zens and others.

33A more convincing rationale is the one encapsulated in the general principle of inclusion: "Everyone who is affected by the decisions of a government should have the right to participate in that government." [28] While this principle has taken different forms—from the broadest definition (including anyone potentially affected by a decision) to only those subjected to a coercive law—de Shalit argues for a residence-based interpretation. Residence determines what "subjected to" or "affected by" might mean and avoids over-inclusion. [29] Participation rights should be granted to "all affected among those who reside in the city" (p. 92).

34Yet he adds one debatable caveat: only interests compatible with the ethos of the city shall be taken into account. Illiberal interests in a liberal city might reasonably be denied inclusion:

35

If [the immigrants] don't wish to integrate [...], that is fine—nobody will force them to do so in a democratic city; but they should not demand, now that they are residents, to participate in elections so that they can change the dominant ethos of this city. (p. 93)

36If nothing else is said about the exact elaboration of the city's ethos, this is problematic. The argument relies on what I have called a "logic of consent": foreigners must consent a priori to an indisputable set of principles which they have had no part in establishing and have no say in. [30] While it is difficult to object to the exclusion of people who are a direct and proven threat to security, elusive decisions about what count as acceptable and non-acceptable interests are self-defeating as part of a norm of inclusion. Those who are included appear to have no real duty of justification, and those who are excluded have no opportunity to make their case.

37De Shalit adds that residence (generally associated with a threshold of duration) is not a sufficient condition. Indeed, what about immigrants who are simple visitors, even long-term ones? They might be in a city for work and have no interest whatsoever in being included. What is missing is intention. Either verbally or pragmatically communicated, intention expresses a stake in the community. Residence for a certain period of time and intention effectively grant immigrants the right to vote. Voting is more than a legal entitlement to influence local politics. It is a sign of recognition, triggering gratitude in return and ultimately creating a community of people who feel at home, with a sense of responsibility towards one another:

38

As some of the immigrants I interviewed explained, social and economic rights are probably much more urgent for their everyday life; however, political rights are no less important to them [...], because, together with the actual opportunity to influence policies, they carry with them the symbolic assertion that the person is a legitimate part of the community that s/he is accepted. [...] These interviewees felt that they would not fully feel part of their environment until they were granted these rights. The need to participate, they added, is not only a selfish need. It is a feeling that they want to contribute, and to express their gratitude of the city that integrated them. (p. 98)

39In other words, political rights are a condition of meaningful relationships and authentically intertwined interests, not the other way around. Social participation is conditioned by the official acceptance of a newcomer rather than by fulfilment of a claim to political integration. However, as we have seen, this approach itself depends on an a priori judgement in terms of newcomers' compatibility with the city's ethos. The argument is clearly communitarian, although the nature of the community is not essentialized but locally and pragmatically defined by "the level of relationships between people" (p. 102).

40Finally, de Shalit follows the same line of reasoning to justify the right for immigrants to run for local office, which would enhance both symbolic and descriptive representation of immigrants.

Ideal-types of the inclusive city

41The final chapter discusses empirical forms of inclusive cities, opening up the book to more empirical and pluralist considerations. Besides the moral reasoning for inclusion of immigrants, real-life practices are diverse and specific to a city's ethos. Given the importance of such an ethos, it is important to have a contextualized approach to integration.

42Based on his personal experiences in Jerusalem, Berlin and Amsterdam, and a socio-historical description of these cities' inclusion practices, de Shalit constructs three ideal-types, which vary according to the type of pluralism they have to face. Being both a condition and form of relationships among city-zens, pluralism reflects the ethos of a city, hence its "ideological boundaries" (p. 151), preventing or encouraging the integration of immigrants.

43I will not go into details since this chapter would require a strictly empirical assessment of de Shalit's claims. Moving from the least inclusive to the most, Jerusalem is essentially tackling sociological pluralism; Berlin is addressing sociological and axiological pluralism; and Amsterdam is concerned with sociological, axiological and psychological pluralism. Social pluralism leads to a kind of modus vivendi, learned through the challenges of a deeply divided community. Differences may be insurmountable, but that does not mean that we cannot live side by side more or less peacefully. Challenging axiological pluralism means discussing conflicting values while remaining at the political surface; tolerance and a relaxed sense of self are the rules, allowing political disputes without exclusion or bigotry. However, "[T]he Berliner who tolerates and embraces the foreigner and immigrant does not herself change. She tolerates the other, but she herself remains in an óther-to-other' relationship." (p. 130). Inclusion is defined here as indifference. Finally, psychological pluralism, when diversity is high and sudden, runs deeper within individuals. It is not pluralism between more- or less-closed identities. It begs for hybridity, adaptation on both sides ­ what de Shalit calls "mutual assimilation". Inclusion is welcomed and practised in the name of "curiosity". Although de Shalit does not present this last model as a perfect one (applicable beyond the specific case of Amsterdam), it is clearly an ideal of deep and mutual integration. Rather than sticking with a classical relation of hosts welcoming guests, the Amsterdam model suggests the possibility of creating a community together with newcomers, whose identities represent common ground rather than sources of distinction.

Virtuous city-zens: philoxenia and hospitality

44To conclude, I would like to come back to the appendix of the book, "Philoxenia: Thessaloniki's answer to why immigrants should be allowed to settle in the city", written with Despoina Glarou. Although unusual for a political theory book, the appendix is consistent with de Shalit's contextualized approach. Here, de Shalit and Glarou provide an in-depth analysis of "philoxenia" [the love of strangers], a "guiding ethos" or "ideological motivation" for welcoming migrants. It is specific to the city of Thessaloniki, which was significantly affected by an influx of refugees in 2015. This "love of strangers" is cosmopolitan in scope but deeply rooted both in ancient Greek traditions and the city itself. The inhabitants are proud of such an inheritance, and widely share and defend this value. Philoxenia is close to hospitality, although de Shalit and Glarou contrast both. Philoxenia is "a virtue that characterizes the private behaviour of individuals which can also be applied to civil society" (p. 59), while hospitality means "entertaining your friends at your home". [31] Hospitality runs the risk of re-enacting inequalities between "hosts" and "guests" (maintaining the latter in a temporary status), and of reifying the host community as a "home" to be open or closed depending on goodwill, benevolence or generosity. Philoxenia, on the other hand, is defined as more egalitarian and less dependent on odd notions of invitation or guests (p. 60).

45Yet both are seen as private virtues that cannot characterize institutional practices. Following an ongoing strand of publications on the political significance of hospitality in migration, [32] I believe that the importance of both values is worth investigating precisely because they are more concrete, personal and context-sensitive than our usual political concepts. The more general obligation of hospitality might work to guide inclusion policies towards being more place- and person-specific. We can conceive the contemporary revival of sanctuary cities as mobilizing and redefining solidarity, sanctuary or hospitality, justifying a special duty on the part of cities in terms of welcoming, helping, protecting and integrating migrants beyond what national authorities are doing (or against the threat they constitute to migrants). [33] De Shalit and Glarou are right then to conclude that hospitality or philoxenia could "serve as the ideal for social and political activism" (p. 71). Under non-ideal circumstances, when states do not comply with their basic duties to migrants, the need to look at new concepts (and at their public and local uses) is a crucial task for empirically sensitive political theorists.