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Think about a de facto couple you know. These could be friends who have been together for years, own a home, raise children and are as committed to each other as the most committed married couple.
Now imagine the government telling them that because they have not had a wedding, they are entitled to fewer rights and less support than their married neighbours. Most of us would find that not just unfair, but a fundamental misreading of what commitment looks like.
This is similar to what Opposition Leader Angus Taylor proposed last Thursday when he announced that non-citizens, including permanent residents, would be barred from accessing a range of government services such as JobSeeker, the NDIS and the family tax benefit.
“Many Australians would be surprised to learn that non-citizens are eligible for welfare,” Taylor said in his budget reply speech. But were they? As Kos Samaras pointed out in this masthead, most Australians personally know permanent residents who receive or have received government support. They would be feeling disheartened, not surprised.
This announcement should not surprise us either. After losing the once-safe Liberal seat of Farrer to One Nation, it was predictable that the Liberals would try to outdo Pauline Hanson on cruelty.
Nor is it surprising that a policy targeting multicultural Australia in this way would be developed without any serious engagement with what modern Australia actually looks like. A country where citizens and non-citizens live together, work together, study together and care deeply about each other’s fate.
But it does force us to confront a question worth taking seriously: what is citizenship for?
In Australia, citizenship primarily confers political rights: the rights to vote, to stand for office and to work in the public service. That might not seem like much for those who don’t follow politics closely.
But citizenship also protects all the other rights in a more robust way. Taylor’s announcement illustrates this point well. When immigration becomes highly politicised, there is always a risk that long-term immigrants will lose access to certain entitlements. Being a citizen gives you the best protection of your rights, liberties and opportunities.
What about the other side of the equation, what we might refer to as the responsibilities of citizenship? Is there any meaningful difference between how permanent residents and citizens feel about their country?
There is no evidence that permanent residents are any less committed to Australia than citizens are. They pay taxes, contribute to the economy, raise children, volunteer, start businesses and make long-term plans for their futures here. Some are waiting until they are eligible to apply for citizenship. Some come from countries that do not permit dual citizenship, and for deeply personal reasons do not want to formally renounce their country of origin despite having no plans to go back. Others simply prefer not to participate in politics.
But a lack of political engagement does not translate into a lack of social engagement. Many of us would be surprised to discover that some of our neighbours, colleagues or friends lack Australian citizenship precisely because they are so fully enmeshed in this country.
This brings us back to the de facto analogy. There are many reasons why people choose not to marry, but it would be a mistake to assume that their relationships are any less real, any less committed or any less deserving of protection. The same is true of permanent residents. Their legal status does not affect their level of social belonging.
None of this means citizenship has no special value. There is something worth celebrating in the public act of becoming a citizen. Just as a wedding can be a meaningful public expression of a loving bond that already exists, a citizenship ceremony can be a meaningful public expression of a belonging that is already there.
These rituals matter, at a personal and societal level, and there are good pragmatic reasons to encourage permanent residents to take that step. As a citizen, your rights are more robustly protected, and you are less exposed to the consequences of cruel policies enacted for political purposes. So, it is worth becoming a citizen if that is not too personally costly. It is also worth becoming a citizen if you want to help shape this country’s political future.
But the crucial word here is encourage, not punish. If Taylor had made the case for citizenship by arguing for its value and by celebrating those who choose to formalise their commitment to this country, that would be a different story. Instead, he has chosen to threaten people who have built lives here in good faith, and whose only offence is that they have not yet made a public expression of their commitment.
That is not a policy designed to strengthen Australian citizenship. It is a policy designed to score political points with a fringe segment of the population, while simultaneously treating permanent residents as if they don’t belong.
Australians know the difference between a wedding and a committed romantic relationship. I suspect they also know the difference between a citizenship certificate and a commitment to this country. They might make that distinction clear to Taylor at the next election.
Luara Ferracioli is an associate professor in political philosophy in the School of Humanities at the University of Sydney. Her recent books include Liberal Self-Determination in a World of Migration and Parenting and the Goods of Childhood.
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Dr Luara Ferracioli is Associate Professor of Political Philosophy at the University of Sydney.From our partners
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