Cities and Citizenship
James Holston and Arjun Appadurai
\ A I hy cities? Why citizenship? Since the eighteenth century, one of the V v defining marks of modernity has been the use of two linked concepts of association—citizenship and nationality—to establish the meaning of full membership in society. Citizenship rather than subjectship or kinship or cultship has defined the prerogatives and encumbrances of that membership, and the nation-state rather than the neighborhood or the city or the region established its scope. What it means to be a member of society in many areas of the world came to be understood, to a significant degree, in terms of what it means to be a right-bearing citizen of a territorial nation-state. Undeniably, this historical development has been both revolutionary and democratic, even as it has also been conservative and exclusionary. On the one hand, for persons deemed eligible, nation-states have sought to establish citizenship as that identity which subordinates and coordinates all other identities—of religion, estate, family, gender, ethnicity, region, and the like—to its framework of a uniform body of law. Overwhelming other titles with its universal citoyen, citizenship thus erodes local hierarchies, statuses, and privileges in favor of national jurisdictions and contractual relations based in principle on an equality of rights. On the other hand, the mobilizations of those excluded from the circle of citizens, their rallies against the hypocrisies of its ideology of universal equality and respect, have expanded democracies everywhere: they generate new kinds of citizens, new sources of
Public Culture 1996, 8: 187-204
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law, and new participation in the decisions that bind. As much as anything else, these conflicting and disjunctive processes of change constitute the core meaning of modern citizenship, constantly unsettling its assumptions.
Although one of the essential projects of nation-building has been to dismantle the historic primacy of urban citizenship and to replace it with the national, cities remain the strategic arena for the development of citizenship. They are not the only arena. And not all cities are strategic. But with their concentrations of the nonlocal, the strange, the mixed, and the public, cities engage most palpably the tumult of citizenship. Their crowds catalyze processes which decisively expand and erode the rules, meanings, and practices of citizenship. Their streets conflate identities of territory and contract with those of race, religion, class, culture, and gender to produce the reactive ingredients of both progressive and reactionary political movements. Like nothing else, the modern urban public signifies both the defamiliarizing enormity of national citizenship and the exhilaration of its liberties.
But if cities have historically been the locus of such tumult, they experience today an unsettling of national citizenship which promises unprecedented change. In some places, the nation itself is no longer a successful arbiter of citizenship. As a result, the project of a national society of citizens, especially liberalism's twentieth-century version, appears increasingly exhausted and discredited. In other places, the nation may maintain the envelope of citizenship, but the substance has been so changed or at least challenged that the emerging social morphologies are radically unfamiliar and force a reconsideration of the basic principles of membership. Such transformations have generated profound uncertainties about many aspects of citizenship which only recently seemed secure: uncertainty about the community of allegiance, its form of organization, manner of election and repudiation, inclusiveness, ethical foundations, and signifying performances; uncertainty about the location of sovereign power; uncertainty about the priorities of the right and the good; uncertainty about the role of cultural identities increasingly viewed as defining natural memberships.
It has become common in the literature on national identity to consider such transformations in terms of a dichotomy between the national and the global. Cities usually drop out of the analysis because this dichotomy tends to present globalization, especially of labor, capital, and communication, as neutralizing the importance of place, indeed of rendering it irrelevant. This special issue of Public Culture proposes that such dematerialization is mistaken, that place remains fundamental to the problems of membership in society, and that cities (understood here to include their regional suburbs) are especially privileged sites
for considering the current renegotiations of citizenship. It regards cities as the 189 place where the business of modern society gets done, including that of transna- Cities and Citizenship tionalization. Some of the essays in this volume suggest that cities may be reemerg-ing as more salient sites for citizenship; other essays suggest that citizens are producing new (in some cases expansive, in some restrictive) notions of membership and solidarity. As a whole, moreover, they suggest that in many postcolonial societies, a new generation has arisen to create urban cultures severed from the colonial memories and nationalist fictions on which independence and subsequent rule were founded. These cultures are especially detached from the paradigm of nation-building which celebrates the rural as the fundamental expression of the indigenous and the authentic and which despises the city as responsible for the loss of both, for detribalization, corruption, and social death. This rural paradigm has often dominated the representation of postcolonial society in the arts and social sciences, especially anthropology. Insofar as that is the case, this issue of Public Culture speaks as well to the urgent need to develop a framework of investigation which considers that cities are challenging, diverging from, and even replacing nations as the important space of citizenship—as the lived space not only of its uncertainties but also of its emergent forms.
Our point is not to argue that the transnational flow of ideas, goods, images, and persons - intensified by recent developments in the globalization of capital-is obliterating the salience of the nation-state. Rather, it is to suggest that this flow tends to drive a deeper wedge between national space and its urban centers. There are a growing number of societies in which cities have a different relationship to global processes than the visions and policies of their nation-states may admit or endorse. London today is a global city in many ways that do not fit with the politics of the United Kingdom, just as Shanghai may be oriented to a global traffic beyond the control of the government of the People's Republic of China, as Mogadishu may represent a civil war only tangentially tied to a wider Somali politics, and as Los Angeles may sustain many aspects of a multicultural society and economy at odds with mainstream ideologies of American identity. Cities have always been stages for politics of a different sort than their hinterlands. But in the era of mass migration, globalization of the economy, and rapid circulation of rights discourse, cities represent the localization of global forces as much as they do the dense articulation of national resources, persons, and projects. Michael Watt's essay in this issue shows, for example, the extent to which the transnational political economy of oil and Islam impinges on the urban life of Nigeria. In some cases, at any rate, cities may be sites of entropy for the energies that might have sustained a national politics of democracy.
190 The conventional distinction between formal and substantive aspects of citizen-
Public Culture ship is helpful in sorting out various dimensions of these proposals. In particular,
it suggests why cities may be especially salient sites for the constitution of different citizenships, or at least for considering the exhaustion of national modes. If the formal refers to membership in the nation-state and the substantive to the array of civil, political, socio-economic, and cultural rights people possess and exercise, much of the turmoil of citizenship derives from the following problem: although in theory full access to rights depends on membership, in practice that which constitutes citizenship substantively is often independent of its formal status. In other words, formal membership in the nation-state is increasingly neither a necessary nor a sufficient condition for substantive citizenship. That it is not sufficient is obvious for many poor citizens who have formal membership in the state but who are excluded in fact or law from enjoying the rights of citizenship and participating effectively in its organization. This condition also applies to citizens of all classes who find that their preferences for a desirable or proper form of life—for example, with regard to sexual or religious practices—are not adequately embodied in the national-public sphere of rights even though the communities in which they live may overwhelmingly approve them. Moreover, it is now evident that a condition of formal membership without much substantive citizenship characterizes many of the societies which have experienced recent transitions to democracy and market capitalism in Latin America, Asia, and Eastern Europe.
That formal citizenship is less necessary for access to substantive rights is. also clear: although it is required for a few rights (like voting in national elections), it is not for most. Indeed, legally resident noncitizens, and even illegally resident ones, often possess virtually identical socio-economic and civil rights as citizens. Moreover, the exclusive rights of citizens are often onerous, like jury duty, military service, and certain tax requirements. Thus, people tend to perceive them more as burdens than as rights. It is not surprising, therefore, that recent surveys indicate that many immigrants are not as anxious as they once might have been to embrace the citizenship of their new countries, thereby compromising their right of return.'
Such disjunctions between the form and substance of citizenship have made defining it in terms of membership in the nation-state less convincing and have
1. See Schuck 1989 for a discussion of the problematic relation between the form and substance of citizenship in the United States, with specific reference to (and a disputable conclusion about) the reluctance of more recent immigrants to assume U.S. citizenship.
thus devalued this form of association for both members and nonmembers alike. IVI
As a result, there have been two general responses. One tries to make citizenship Cities and citizenship more exclusive. Hence, we witness a host of reactionary movements: some aim to deny social services to various categories of noncitizens or to legislate the exclusive use of one language or another. Others employ urban incorporation to gain the powers of local government. Their objective is to privatize or dismantle public spaces and services and to implant zoning regulations which in effect keep the undesired out. Around the world, it is all too common to find homeowner associations using these powers and privileges of democratic organization to exclude, discriminate, and segregate. For example, in the Los Angeles Metropolitan Region alone there are over twenty-five such exclusive urban incorporations, and in Sao Paulo there are hundreds of so-called closed condominiums using somewhat different legal mechanisms to achieve similar ends. Other exclusionary movements (some militia-backed) attack federalism and the idea of national government itself, advancing the priority of local, small-scale communities.2 All of these movements tend to emphasize private security and vigilantism as acceptable forms of self-determination. Most are tinged with racism if not outright violence.
The other kind of response has gone in the opposite direction. It tries to make citizenship more inclusive. It aims to reconceive citizenship in supranational and nonlocal terms in which rights are available to individuals regardless of national origins, residence, or place of work. Examples include movements for human rights, transnational citizenship, and continental associations (e.g., EEC, Nafta, and Mercosur). But if both types of response aim to reinvigorate citizenship, they both typically have their perverse outcomes: in the one case, localism can generate xenophobic violence; in the other, the elimination of local community as the ground of citizenship tends to preclude active participation in the business of rule. Instead, it leads to the replacement of that civic ideal with a more passive sense of entitlement to benefits which seem to derive from remote sources. Far from renewing citizenship, violence and passivity further erode its foundations.
As such erosion spreads, it threatens the very notion of a shared community and culture as the basis of citizenship. The extension of the shared beyond the local and the homogeneous is, of course, an essential part of citizenship's revolu-
2. Examples of these exclusionary movements include, respectively: California's Proposition 187, which passed overwhelmingly in 1994; French-only legislation in Quebec; urban incorporations in Los Angeles (Davis 1990) and closed condominiums in Sao Paulo (Caldeira forthcoming, and in this issue); the bombing of the Oklahoma Federal Building; and recent opinions by Supreme Court Justice Clarence Thomas.
tionary and democratic promise. This extension of citizenship is corrosive of other notions of the shared precisely because its concept of allegiance is, ultimately, volitional and consensual rather than natural. Yet, one would be hard-pressed to find a major urban population today which felt compelled, except in extraordinary moments like war. by "a direct sense of community membership based on loyalty to a civilization which is a common possession," to use a phrase from T. H. Marshall's classic study of citizenship (1977[1949]:94). The exhaustion of this sense over the half century forces us to reconsider not only the national basis of citizenship but also its democratic ideals of commonwealth, participation, and equality.
The project of national citizenship depends less on the idea of the nation as a neutral framework for competing interests than on that of the nation as a community of shared purposes and commensurable citizens. Its working assumption is that this national community is committed to constituting a common good and to shaping a common life well-suited to the conditions of modernity. This notion requires a set of self-understandings on the part of citizens which lies at the core of the liberal compact of citizenship: it requires that people perceive, through a kind of leap of faith, that they are sufficiently similar to form common purpose. This perception is sustained in the long run through performances of citizenship. These determine, first, that there are meaningful common goods; second, that active participation rather than mere reception or inheritance establishes the fundamental claim to goods; and, third, that those who participate have equal—or at least fairly adjusted-rights regardless of other differences. This liberal compact is now under tremendous strain. With the unprecedented growth of economic and social inequalities during the last few decades in so many nations, the differences between residents have become too gross and the areas of commonality too few to sustain this compact. As a result, the social imaginary of a nation of commensurable citizens disintegrates. And the performances which sustain it fail. In the breach, the idea of a shared culture seems implausible.
One could argue that where liberalism encounters this failure—at different times in different places —its response has been to replace the teleological notion of common good and measure with the priority of right over good. In this more modern version, the nation of citizens is based not on constitutive ends but on procedural means of justice which ensure that no particular end (a vision of the good life) "trumps" any other, to use Dworkin's famous image.3 Deriving from
3. On this version of liberalism, several of the important discussions are Berling 1969, Dworkin 1977, Sandel 1982, Rawls 1988, and Walzer 1983.
Kant, this liberal ethic asserts principles of justice which do not presuppose or 193 promote any substantive conception of the good. Rather, they are supposed to    Cities and Citizenship enable citizens to pursue their own ends consistent with a similar liberty for all. In elevating the priority of right to a supreme value, it opposes the regulation of society in terms of utilitarian ends or communist needs which ultimately may sacrifice individual rights for the sake of the general welfare.
If this version of liberalism has triumphed globally in twentieth-century models of democracy and citizenship, it has also come under powerful attack. Critics across many spectrums—from Left to Right, from Islamic to American Fundamentalism, from Aztlan to Common Cause-argue that it relies in theory and practice on a notion of shared allegiance which it officially rejects. This notion derives from the argument that without prior formative attachments and commitments to family, culture, ethnicity, religion, and the like, people cannot achieve the very sense of moral depth and personhood that the liberal compact requires. However, it is precisely these kinds of prior affiliation that liberal citizenship refuses. Hence, liberalism in reality gives lie to its official values; and yet, in insisting upon them, it undermines the sense of community upon which it actually depends. In effect, procedural liberalism leaves citizens more entangled in obligations they do not choose and less attached to common identifications that would render these obligations not just bearable but even virtuous. Thus, it produces citizens who are predominately passive in their citizenship. They are, for the most part, spectators who vote. Yet, without active participation in the business of rule, they are citizens whose citizenship is managed, for better or worse, by an unelected bureaucracy.
Among the most vocal critics of liberal citizenship in this sense are groups organized around specific identities-the kind of prior differences liberalism relegates to the private sphere—which affirm the importance of these identities in the public calculus of citizenship. That is, they affirm the right to difference as an integral part of the foundation of citizenship. Feminism launched this critique by arguing that liberalism depends in fact on an ideology of difference because its supposedly universal citizen is, historically, of a particular type, namely, a white, European, propertied, male.4 The ideology of universal equality arises because members of this referent group have never had to assert their difference, but only their equality, to claim citizenship. From the perspective of the rest who are excluded, this assertion looks like one of difference, not equality. In any case, it will not work for those not already equal in these terms. Hence, for
4. Feminist studies of citizenship include Pateman 1989, Dietz 1992, and Okin 1992.
the excluded, the political question is to change the terms. Therefore, the politics of difference becomes more important and potentially incompatible with that of universal equality as the real basis for citizenship.5
For example, this politics argues that although different treatment (e.g., with regard to gender) can produce inequality, equal treatment, when it means sameness, can discriminate against just the kinds of values and identities people find most meaningful. Thus, it asks whether citizenship rights should be difference-specific or difference-neutral. Do the former constitute a more just basis for the integration of citizens into market and polity, especially for those who have been traditionally excluded? Does it make sense, for instance, to secure equal treatment for women in the workplace by conceiving of pregnancy as just another kind of disability for which employers grant leave? The current U.S. Pregnancy Disability Act is based on exactly this difference-neutral conception of rights. Or does that violate our moral sense of the unique importance of pregnancy? Should pregnancy leave rather be a specific right of women who, occasionally in their lives, give birth? Many argue that only the latter gives due recognition to the unique contribution of women to society and that citizenship must therefore include difference-specific rights.6
As in the case of gender, many other distinguishing identities have given focus to organized groups who challenge established, difference-neutral conceptions of citizenship. These include national and cultural minorities, sexual-orientation groups, and racial, religious, and ethnic organizations.7 They demand different treatment on the basis of their inalienable right to retain and realize their unique qualities, contributions, and histories. Their core argument usually entails the claim they have been denied respect and opportunity because they are different. That difference in fact constitutes their authentic and original character, which they have every right to develop to full capacity. Thus, they demand citizenship rights as persons who have authentic needs and interests which must be met if they are to live fully human lives. As Taylor demonstrates, the argument from authenticity leads to a politics of difference rather than to a politics of universalism or equalization of rights (1992:3-73). It results in a claim upon others to recognize special qualities and to accord them rights on that account which will ensure
5. For opposing views on this question of difference and equality, see Schlesinger 1992 and Scott 1992.
6. Eisenstein (1988: 79-116) and Paleman (1989: 179-209) analyze the problem of difference-specific rights in relation to gender. The former discusses the question of maternity leave.
7. For examples, see Anzaldúa 1987, Kallen 1924, Ferguson et al. 1990, and Warner 1993.
their survival and well-being. Although this kind of demand would seem contra- 195 dictory and incompatible with citizenship as an ideology of equality, there is Cities and Citizenship nevertheless a growing sense that it is changing the meaning of equality itself. What it objects to is the equation that equality means sameness. It rejects citizenship as a homogenizing identity with the charge that homogenization reduces and impoverishes. Rather, it would take equality to mean equal opportunity. Thus, it would define citizenship on the basis of rights to different treatment with equal opportunity.
Identity politics of this sort is having a major impact because the identities of difference are competing more successfully for people's time and passion than the tired identity of formal, national citizenship. Without doubt, this impact is divisive. Identity politics tends to disrupt established ideologies of civic unity and moral solidarity in ways which often make people angry and anxious. For example, the politics of difference challenges the basic premise of liberal citizenship that the principles of justice impose negative restrictions on the kinds of goods individuals can pursue. Hence, when Muslim women in France demand the right to use the veil in public schools, or American Fundamentalists to include creationism in the curriculum, they contest that priority and the plural public sphere it supposedly creates. By demanding the right to pursue their definitions of the good and proper life in the public sphere, they challenge the liberal democratic conviction that the res publico should articulate all interests according to conditions which subscribe to none in particular. Precisely because their demands are opposed, they show that Western liberal republics neither achieve nor in fact subscribe to such a procedurally neutral articulation. Thus, they debunk a fundamental premise of liberal ideology. The politics of difference has become so intense precisely because it suggests a basic change in the historical role of citizenship: it indicates the increasing disarticulation of formal citizenship as the principal norm for coordinating and managing the simultaneity of modern social identities in highly differentiated societies. In that suggestion, it ignites deep anxieties about what form such coordination might take, both juridically and symbolically, if citizenship no longer has that primary role.
As nowhere else, the world's major cities make manifest these reconstitutions of citizenship. The compaction and reterritorialization of so many different kinds of groups within them grind away at citizenship's assumptions. They compel it to bend to the recognition that contemporary urban life comprises multiple and diverse cultural identities, modes of life, and forms of appropriating urban space (Hannerz 1992; Holston 1995). Immigration is a central link between classical issues of citizenship—imaged as a right-bearing form of membership in the territo-
196 rial nation-state—and the city as this dense and heterogeneous lived space. Immi-
Public Culture grants typically congregate and work in cities because the demands for their labor
tend to be generated by urban commerce, infrastructure, and wage-differentiation. Moreover, immigrants tend to rely on previous networks of knowledge and affiliation for jobs and basic amenities. Thus, the politics of immigration is closely tied to the politics of cities, and the violence surrounding immigration is intimately connected with urban youth, gangs, slums, and politics. In the recent hunt for Islamic terrorists in the subways of Paris, or the recent expulsion of Bangladeshi immigrants from Bombay (which also involved the deportation of many Indian Muslims by "accident"), we see that in cities the politics of quality (in particular of difference) meets the politics of quantity (and of the anxieties of density). Immigration politics cannot be abstractly conducted evenly across all national space. It tends to be implosive (Appadurai, in press), and its most intense points of implosion are cities.
Because of this volatile complexity, cities are especially sensitive to the peregrinations of capital and labor. When these produce sharp increases in socioeconomic inequality, they affect citizenship profoundly because they provoke new notions of membership, solidarity, and alienage. That is, they generate new morphologies of social category and class which interact not only to shift sociabilities and cultures but also to transform the legal regimes of state and local community in keeping with these displacements. The politics of immigration largely concerns these shifting interactions between culture and law. Especially in the developing world, this dynamic of change seems extraordinary today because many cities are undergoing two kinds of localizations of capital and labor simultaneously. First, most cities are still in the grip of nationally oriented processes of industrialization, with corresponding commercial, financial, and bureaucratic consequences. Second, some cities have become, often at the same time, strategic and specialized sites for the operations of more globally oriented capital and labor.
In the first case, the great turmoil of citizenship in cities derives in large measure from new concentrations of wealth and misery among nationals related to industrialization. Where the shanties of migrants sprout next to the mansions, factories, and skyscrapers of industrial-state capitalism, new kinds of citizens engage each other in struggles over the nature of belonging to the national society. Such struggles are particularly evident in the social movements of the urban poor for rights to the city. They are especially associated with the emergence of democracy because they empower poor citizens to mobilize around the redis-
tributive right-claims of citizenship.8 These movements are new not only because they force the state to respond to new social conditions of the working poor— in which sense they are, indeed, one of the significant consequences of massive urban poverty for citizenship. They are also unprecedented in many cases because they create new kinds of rights outside of the normative and institutional definitions of the state and its legal codes. These rights generally address the new collective and personal spaces of the modern metropolis, especially its impoverished residential neighborhoods. They affirm access to housing, property, sanitation, health services, education, child care, and so forth on the basis of citizenship. In this assertion, they expand the scope and understanding of entitlement. Is adequate housing a right? Is employment? In this sense, the development of the economy itself fuels the growth of citizenship as new areas of social and economic life are brought under the calculus of right.
This expansion amounts to more than multiplying the number and beneficiaries of socio-economic rights, itself no small achievement. In addition, it changes the very conception of right and citizenship. Right becomes more of a claim upon than a possession held against the world. It becomes a claim upon society for the resources necessary to meet the basic needs and interests of members rather than a kind of property some possess and others do not. It is probably the case that this change applies mostly to socio-economic and political rights rather than to civil rights. In the emerging democracies of the developing world, the latter tend to remain decidedly underdeveloped. But in terms of rights to the city and rights to political participation, right becomes conceived as an aspect of social relatedness rather than as an inherent and natural property of individuals. This sort of claim is often based on the deeply felt capacity of new urban workers to contribute morally and politically to the public sphere because they do so economically. That is, even though poor, even if illegal squatters, they have rights because they are consumers and taxpayers. Moreover, in the development of this mode of reasoning, it is also possible to discern the beginnings of a more radical argument: people have rights to a minimum standard of living which does not depend on their relative economic or market worth but on their absolute rights as citizens to a measure of economic well-being and dignity. Potentially, this argument is radically redistributive of a society's wealth because it breaks down entrenched, elite-based explanations for relative worth and inequality.
Furthermore, as mobilizations for these rights are organized in relation to new conditions of work and residence, and concern people for the most part
8. For examples from Brazil, see Alvarez 1993, Caldeira 1986, and Holston 1989.
198 previously excluded from the resources of the state, they come to be based on
Public Culture specific claims which are generally not defined in existing constitutions or legal
codes. Where there are urban housing problems on a massive scale, for example, movements arise which claim that property must fulfill a social function or risk expropriation and redistribution. This claim relativizes the traditionally positivist and absolute right to property. In many cases, such unprecedented claims are so strong that they succeed in producing new legal regimes in the form of new constitutional principles, and new legal codes in the form of new constitutions, as well as revising legal codes, and reforming judiciaries (Holston, forthcoming). In terms of the last, they force isolated judiciaries to confront social and legal contradictions. They create new services which permit broader access to justice, especially in civil law.9 Moreover, although such changes may be legislated from the top down, they often result from popular participation in constitutional congresses. In turn, they mobilize people into helping to frame legislation and government reform at the local level. In sum, as the social movements of the urban poor create unprecedented claims on and to the city, they expand citizenship to new social bases. In so doing, they create new sources of citizenship rights and corresponding forms of self-rule.
Many of these same cities around the world are now also sites of a second and more encompassing localization of capital and labor. Even as they undergo national industrialization, they have become strategic arenas in which global capital structures its operations, for these too require place (Appadurai 1990; Sassen 1991). The accompanying transnationalization of labor includes both highly skilled and unskilled immigrants: it produces a new set of class fractions in the city of high-income capital managers and the low-income manual and service workers who attend them. Increasingly, managers see the workers as marginal "others." Although this transnationalization generates its own forms of politics, these fractions are less likely to engage in struggles over the form and substance of national citizenship.'Rather, they are more likely to produce new forms of overlapping citizenships and multiple jurisdictions for several reasons.
First, transnationalization initiates a new dynamic of inequality which significantly reduces the possibility of common allegiances and civilities, even of a mythological sort, between capital managers and others. Although they may both work in the transnational economy, their life-worlds are too different. Each world tends to its own promotion, delegitimizing if not criminalizing the other. Second,
9. See Holston (forthcoming) for an example of such legal change concerning property and residence among the urban poor.
as mostly non- or postnationals (Appadurai 1993), neither feels much loyalty to 199
the place in which they are perhaps only temporary transplants. They need state    Cities and Citizenship
government for their economic activity. But they have reduced moral and personal
commitments to it. Instead, they are likely to retain primary loyalty —at least in
cultural terms—to diasporic identities. Third, transnationalization generates a
new global network of cities through which capital and labor pass. The fluidity
of this network causes nation-states to modify their organizational, and especially
legal, structure to attract global resources. In particular, they change the legal
regulation of borders and modes of association because it is through these that
global capital and labor must flow. Also vulnerable are laws of monopoly over
national resources. In addition, labor codes frequently suffer rewriting to meet
the exigencies of international capital and its local partners. Thus, to mediate
between national sovereignty and global economic interests, nation-states tend
not only to produce new legal regimes but also to accept the legal authority of
transnational regulatory bodies (e.g., of trade and banking) within their borders.
This new legal cocktail tends to give special privileges to the managers of global capital, in the sense that it absolves them from local duties and makes them immune to local legal powers. However, it tends to disempower labor. In part this is because it renders significant segments of the transnational low-income labor force illegal by using the system of national boundaries to criminalize the immigrants it attracts for low-wage work. Even though immigrant manual and service workers contribute substantially to the local community—and thereby should earn at least partial standing according to the modern calculus of citizenship—the local does not reciprocate by offering membership.10 Rather, it tends to exploit the illegal status of workers, using the threat of deportation to keep wages low and workers from organizing. But since what brings these new class fractions together, the international market, has its own rules and networks which contradict national boundaries, both rich and poor immigrants also successfully evade state control to a significant degree. Therefore, even as their translocation to the city generates new legal regimes, it also propagates new and diverse forms of illegality. This unstable mix of the legal and the illegal, and of various forms of each, turns the city into a honeycomb of jurisdictions in which there are in effect as many kinds of citizens as there are kinds of law. Such multiplicity delegitimates the national justice system and its framework of uniform law, both hallmarks of national citizenship. Although, as we have seen, this urban multiplicity can spawn new and more democratic forms of citizenship, it also suggests
10. On immigration and the politics of citizenship, see Brubaker 1989.
200 the emergence of an almost medieval body of overlapping, heterogeneous, non-
public Culture uniform, and increasingly private memberships.
To the extent that we have theories of citizenship that link these factors of globalization, economic change, immigration, and cities, they tend to focus either on the labor/immigration nexus or on the narrative of the erosion of Fordist ideas about industrial production. Yet, to deal with the range of cities in which dramas of citizenship are today played out, we need a broader image of urban processes that breaks out of the constraints of the Fordist (and post-Fordist) narrative. The histories of many cities in Africa, Asia, and Latin America have little to do with industry, manufacture, or production. Some of these cities are fundamentally commercial and financial, others are military and bureaucratic, and yet others are monumental and recreative of nationalist historiographies. This variety of cities generates a variety of dramas of citizenship, and in each of them the relationship between production, finance, labor, and service is somewhat different. We need more images and narratives of urban economies so that we can better identify the various ways in which such cities spawn class fragments, ethnic enclaves, gang territories, and varied maps of work, crime, and kinship. Among the essays that follow, those by Sassen, Diouf, and Caldeira point to the variety of ways in which the economic lives of cities differentially put pressure on the idea of the national citizen.
If the city is a special site for such formations and reformations of citizens, it can also be a special war zone, a space in which these processes find expression in collective violence. The city has always been a site of violent social and cultural confrontation. But in the contemporary world, the density of new social formations and the superimposition of diverse cultural identifications produce a corresponding complexity of violence: urban terrorism from the extreme right and left, racist attacks, Islamic bombings, gang shootings, death squads, riots, vandalism, human rights abuses, vigilante lynchings, political assassinations-, kidnappings, police shootings, high-tech security harassments, private justice making, civil disobedience, shantytown eradication, and soccer hooliganism suggest the enormous range of contemporary forms of collective violence. How are these related to conflicts of citizenship and in what way is the violence of citizenship city-specific?
As we have suggested throughout this introduction, citizenship concerns more than rights to participate in politics. It also includes other kinds of rights in the public sphere, namely, civil, socio-economic, and cultural. Moreover, in addition to the legal, it concerns the moral and performative dimensions of membership which define the meanings and practices of belonging in society. Undeniably,
people use violence to make claims about all of these dimensions of belonging. 101 In this sense, violence is a specific type of social action. Moreover, different Cities and Citizenship social processes have their stock expressions of violence. This is not to say that industrialization features one repertoire of violence and globalization another. It is rather to suggest, as Wieviorka's essay in this issue argues, that social processes instigate their own forms of violence in a given social and historical context, the meanings of which consolidate around specific problems, for example, of cultural identity, labor, or residence.
Thus, it is possible to observe that in many countries today democratization brings its own forms of violence. Moreover, as democratization is always a disjunctive process, in which citizenship rights expand and erode in complex arhythmic ways (Holston, forthcoming), it is possible to discern the effects of disjunction on the forms of violence. As discussed earlier, many transitions to democracy included a sustained expansion of political and socio-economic rights for the urban poor. Strikes which are violently repressed and turn into riots, land invasions and expulsions, destruction of public transportation, and political assassinations typically express the conflicts of this expansion. But even where the political and socio-economic components of citizenship are relatively consolidated in these transitions to democracy, the civil component which guarantees liberty, security, and above all justice is often inchoate and ineffectual. This disjunction is common to many countries undergoing democratization today. Where it happens, the majority cannot expect the institutions of state—the courts and the police especially - to respect or guarantee their individual rights, arbitrate their conflicts justly, or control violence legally. In this situation, violence takes a well-known course (Caldeira, forthcoming). There is a broad criminalization of the poor at the same time that social groups at all levels come to support the privatization of security and the extralegalization of justice as the only effective means to deal with "marginals." In other words, there is massive support for market forms of justice on the one hand (private security, vigilantes, enforcers) and, on the other, for extralegal and even illegal measures of control by state institutions, particularly the police (and related death squads) who kill large numbers of "marginals." This kind of violence further discredits the justice system and with it the entire project of democracy and its citizenship.
If there are, therefore, certain forms and meanings of violence associated with citizenship conflicts, how might they be specific to the city? To suggest such specificity is not to reduce violence to an overdetermining urban pathology. Nor is it to consider the city as a mere spatial metaphor of social relations. As we have argued throughout, the city is more important to the conflicts of belonging than these options indicate. Rather, we might say that the city both provides a
map of violence and establishes its features. In this geography of violence, the city can be pretext and context, form and substance, stage and script. Of course, a great deal of collective violence has always been identity-based in ways which do not coincide with the administrative areas of city or nation-think of religious wars, anti-Semitism, the European witchcraze. Surely, violence is not city-bound. But coincidence does not have to be absolute or exclusive to establish correspondence. The point is that people use violence to make claims upon the city and use the city to make violent claims. They appropriate a space to which they then declare they belong; they violate a space which others claim. Such acts generate a city-specific violence of citizenship. Its geography is too legible, too visible to be missed in the abandoned public spaces of the modern city, in its fortified residential enclaves, its division into corporate luxury zones and quarantined war zones, its forbidden sectors of gangs and "armed response" security, its bunkers of fundamentalists, its illegally constructed shanties, its endless neighborhoods of unemployed youth.
With the breakdown of civility and nationality thus evident, many are seeking alternatives in the post-, trans-, de-, re-, (and plain con) of current speculations about the future of the nation-state. It is a heady moment, full of great creativity and uncertainty. Many proposals are circulating for new kinds of public spheres, third spaces, virtual communities, transnations, and diasporic networks. The results are surely contradictory. It may be that cybercitizenship draws some into a more tolerant and accessible public realm. But it also seems to drive others further into the recesses of the private and the market. The failure of nation-states to produce convincing fantasies of the commensurability of its citizens (The People") compels some to imagine recombinant forms of nonterritorial, life-world sovereignties, while it forces others into even more primordial and violent affiliations of territory, religion, and race. The grand theories that were once used to explain pushes and pulls of such magnitude have themselves splintered, in keeping with the nations which gave them sustenance. Contemporary theory seems as displaced and dislocated, as hybrid and diasporic, as so many of the world's populations.
In all of this commotion, it is perhaps understandable to treat the city, that old form of human society, as irrelevant. But until transnations attain more flesh and bone, cities may still be the most important sites in which we experience the crises of national membership and through which we may rethink citizenship. It may even be. after all, that there is something irreducible and nontransferable, necessary but not quite sufficient, about the city's public street and square for the realization of a meaningfully democratic citizenship. If we support the latter, we may have to do much more to defend the former.
James Holston teaches anthropology at the University of California, San Diego. 203 He is the author of The Modernist City (University of Chicago Press, 1989) and    cities and Citizenship is currently working on a book about the disjunctions of democratic citizenship in Sao Paulo.
Arjun Appadurai teaches anthropology at the University of Chicago and is Director of the Chicago Humanities Institute. His book, Modernity at Large: The Cultural Dimensions of Globalization is forthcoming with the University of Minnesota Press.
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