Linguistic justice for non-resident citizens: Protecting language interests away from home

Abstract

Over the past 20 years, a number of political theorists have been focusing on the just political treatment of linguistic diversity in liberal democratic societies. This body of work, known as the ‘linguistic justice’ literature, has mainly examined two specific categories of linguistic groups: autochthonous linguistic minorities and immigrants. However, it has entirely neglected non-resident citizens, that is, citizens of a country who reside in a different one, and their distinctive language interests and rights. In this article, we address this gap by developing a theory of linguistic justice for non-resident citizens, using diaspora institutions as a case study. More specifically, we draw on the linguistic justice literature to outline two categories of non-resident citizens’ language interests and rights, that is, those related to opportunity access and to democracy. We finally suggest ways in which language-related diaspora institutions could be reformed in order to better fulfil non-resident citizens’ language interests and rights.

Introduction

Over the past 20 years, a number of political theorists have begun to focus on linguistic diversity in liberal democratic societies. This body of work, known as the ‘linguistic justice’ literature, is concerned with the just political treatment of linguistic diversity and asks how liberal democratic states ought to respond to the presence of diverse language groups within their territory (De Schutter and Robichaud, 2015; Kymlicka and Patten, 2003; Van Parijs, 2011). Most of this work has focused on two specific categories of linguistic groups that are present in liberal democratic societies: autochthonous linguistic minorities (e.g. the French Quebecois in Canada, the Basque in Spain, or the Welsh and Scots in the United Kingdom) and immigrants, that is, persons who migrate from their country of origin in order to settle in another country (e.g. Hispanics in the United States, Turks in Germany, or migrants of South Asian origins in the United Kingdom). The central question usually asked in relation to members of these groups is whether the states in which they live should recognise and promote their languages (if different from the official/majority one(s)), for example, by offering public services in those languages or providing support for classes or cultural activities aimed at their promotion. The literature is generally divided between those who support this kind of recognition and promotion of linguistic diversity, on the one hand, and those who stress instead the importance of the linguistic assimilation of language minorities, favouring the government promotion of a lingua franca, on the other hand (Kymlicka and Patten, 2003: 37).

However, the linguistic justice literature has so far entirely neglected one important category of individuals: non-resident citizens. These are citizens of a country who reside in a different one. The category of non-resident citizens includes emigrants, that is, those citizens who have left their country of origin in order to migrate to and settle in a different one at some point during their lifetime, and who have not relinquished the citizenship of their country of origin. However, and depending on the citizenship policies of each specific country, it may also include people who have never lived in that country, who were born overseas, and who have always resided outside their country of citizenship but are still entitled to acquire citizenship by descent – for example, children and grandchildren of emigrants. The linguistic justice literature has so far neglected non-resident citizens. While of course, emigrants from a country are always also immigrants to another country, linguistic justice scholars have only focused on their status of immigrants, asking for example whether immigrants’ heritage ¹ language should be recognised, accommodated, and/or promoted by their host country. However, nothing is generally said as to whether immigrants’ country of origin ² should also play a role in the recognition and promotion of its emigrants’ (and their descendants’) heritage language and linguistic identity.

In this article, we address this question by applying the normative theoretical framework provided by theories of linguistic justice to non-resident citizens. In doing so, we use diaspora institutions as an example. More specifically, we argue that diaspora institutions created by sending countries can contribute to the protection and promotion of non-resident citizens’ language interests. First, we provide a general overview of diaspora institutions. Second, we zoom in on diaspora institutions that focus on the protection and promotion of non-resident citizens’ heritage language. Third, we argue that non-resident citizens have a right to be proficient in the majority language of their country of origin and that the latter has a duty to protect that language right. More specifically, our argument is that when individuals have certain fundamental rights qua citizens of a specific state, that state has a duty to provide them with the means necessary to exercise those rights. Those means, we argue, include the right to a sufficient level of proficiency in the majority language of the country of origin, without which citizens may be unable to exercise their fundamental rights (e.g. the right to work or voting rights). We conclude by suggesting ways in which diaspora institutions could be reformed in order to better protect non-resident citizens’ language rights.

Diaspora institutions and the promotion of languages abroad

Migration waves and the settlement of many of their citizens overseas have forced nation-states to establish institutions aimed at supporting those citizens and their descendants. These institutions, known as diaspora institutions, have been defined as ‘formal state offices dedicated to emigrants and their descendants’ (Gamlen, 2014: 182). By 2015, 118 of the 193 United Nations (UN) Member States had some forms of diaspora institutions (Gamlen, 2019: 38).

Depending on the migration history of different countries and the presence of their population abroad, diaspora institutions can be linked to different levels of government (mostly executive or legislative branches) and address the different needs of citizens living abroad, including emigrants who have become residents of host countries, naturalised citizens living abroad (e.g. those who became citizens via marriage while living abroad) and second- and third-generation non-resident citizens. Agunias (2009) identifies the three main bodies that deal with diaspora issues within home countries’ institutions as follows: (1) government institutions at home (e.g. Ministries for Overseas Citizens, Sub-ministerial institutions, Inter-ministerial committees, and local-level institutions), (2) consular networks (e.g. embassies/consulates, Institutes of Cultures), and (3) quasi-government institutions (e.g. advisory councils). These three types of institutions are generally created within the executive branch of government, mainly at the ministerial level. However, diaspora institutions can also be established within the legislative branch through the implementation of foreign constituencies in homeland parliaments. Foreign constituencies allocate seats in sending countries’ parliaments for representatives of citizens abroad, elected by non-resident citizens, to protect the interests of diasporas in their home countries (De Lazzari, 2019).

It is important to note that the emergence of specifically made institutions targeting non-resident citizens has particularly intensified over the last 25 years and represents a novelty also in the migration literature (Gamlen, 2019). For example, extensive empirical and normative studies have been conducted on the topic of diaspora strategies (Filipovic et al., 2012; Ho et al., 2015). However, only in recent years have diaspora institutions become a discrete object of interest in the literature. Scholars have focused especially on explaining the drivers that foster countries’ decision to include non-resident citizens in homeland institutions, maintain connections with them, and protect them and their rights (Bauböck, 2003). Furthermore, the study of diaspora institutions has generated interest in relation to the level of engagement chosen by sending countries to involve their citizens living abroad, in particular the electoral participation of non-resident citizens in their home countries via external voting (Hutcheson and Arrighi, 2015; IDEA and IFE, 2007; Owen, 2010). Indeed, external voting is a very widespread phenomenon in the contemporary world, and evidence shows that 115 countries and territories around the world grant their non-resident citizens voting rights, although ‘[t]here is great variation when it comes to which groups of people are allowed to vote from abroad, and under what circumstances, what is required from them, how and where votes can be cast and how they are counted’ (IDEA and IFE, 2007: 3; see also De Lazzari, 2019).

At the global level, we can observe a growing willingness by most countries to involve diasporas in their economic, social, and political lives. For example, in recent years European countries such as Poland and Romania, as well some African countries such as Ethiopia and Zambia, have established and expanded diaspora institutions in several countries (Gamlen et al., 2019). As Gamlen et al. observe,

[i]n origin states around the world, diaspora members once disdained as victims, deserters or traitors are now more likely to be feted as national heroes in events such as diaspora congresses, and in holidays to celebrate their contributions to the ‘homeland’ [. . .] Emigrants and their descendants are courted in campaigns to encourage financial remittances, investments, donations and ‘roots tourism’ [. . .] They are granted new categories of extra-territorial [. . .] citizenship and voting rights, sometimes with dedicated representatives in origin-state legislatures [. . .] These and other policy initiatives to promote solidarity with, concern for, and accountability to diasporas are becoming an increasingly visible element of the political landscape, not only in migrants’ states of origin but also in international affairs. (Gamlen et al., 2019: 492–493)

While the creation of diaspora institutions has often been driven by countries’ economic, diplomacy, and security interests – what Gamlen et al. (2019) call ‘tapping’ – countries may also establish diaspora institutions in order to ‘govern’ their diasporas and display their compliance with global norms as well as to ‘embrace’ their communities living abroad by promoting a shared national identity (Gamlen et al. 2019). As this ‘embracing’ perspective suggests, nation-states often have an interest in maintaining connections with their non-resident citizens and retain their loyalty by reinforcing nationhood bonds (Levitt and De la Dehesa, 2003; Østergaard-Nielsen, 2003). Indeed, some scholars argue that diaspora institutions represent what can be defined as ‘state-led transnationalism’, where countries of origin aim to foster long-distance ethnic nationalism (Margheritis, 2007) and to establish ‘multiple ties and interactions linking people or institutions across the borders of nation-states’ (Vertovec, 1999: 447).

Among the various diaspora institutions and policies developed by sending countries, the promotion of their language and culture abroad represents an element of interest and significant investment on their part. The promotion of language abroad is often, if not always, associated with the promotion of culture through the creation of cultural institutes within diaspora institution networks. Countries like Brazil, Italy, and Morocco, for example, have a long tradition of promoting their languages abroad, including via the creation of institutions fully funded by their governments to implement language programmes in foreign countries. These programmes generally reside within the responsibilities of their Ministry of Foreign Affairs (or equivalent).

Not all countries have developed institutions promoting their language and culture abroad to the same extent or for the same reasons. Countries with a specific history of emigration around the world (e.g. Italy and Mexico), for example, may have a particular interest in promoting their language and culture among (and maintain a connection with) their transnational communities (e.g. Canagarajah, 2011). Those countries which, instead, have had a significant global impact through colonisation (e.g. the United Kingdom, France, and Spain) might use the promotion of their language and culture abroad as an instrument for successful foreign policy and for increasing their international profile (King and Melvin, 2000), with very little emphasis on the relationship between the relevant country and its non-resident citizens.

This is the case, for example, of France, the first country to establish institutions for the promotion of its language and culture outside its national borders. The establishment of the Alliance Française, the institute that promotes the French culture and language, is dated 1889. As it is highlighted on its Melbourne website, the Alliance Française

owes its success to the consistently faithful nature of a foreign public which continues to be enamoured by the French language. Deriving its strength from a name which is now recognised all over the world, it has been able to maintain a presence in 133 different countries. (Alliance Française, 2023)

As this mission statement suggests, France perceives language as a tool to further develop its foreign policy and foster its presence abroad. However, the mission of the Alliance Française does not pose any attention to diaspora communities and French citizens abroad, despite France’s long history of colonisation.

Germany and the United Kingdom also have similar institutions, respectively, the Goethe-Institut, created in 1925, and the British Council, established in 1934. In the case of the British Council, it is interesting to highlight how its emphasis is on building connections between people in the United Kingdom and other countries, with no mention of non-resident UK citizens:

We support peace and prosperity by building connections, understanding and trust between people in the UK and countries worldwide. (British Council, n.d.)

Following these earlier examples, other European and non-European countries have over time invested resources in the promotion of their language and culture abroad. In 1991, for example, Spain set up the Instituto Cervantes to promote the teaching and learning of the Spanish language (Instituto Cervantes, n.d.), whereas Japan established its Japan Foundation in 1972 (Japan Foundation, n.d.).

Many countries promote their language and culture abroad also and especially in order to maintain connections with their transnational communities. The mission of the Italian Cultural Institutes, for example, includes the following statement:

[The] 84 Italian Cultural Institutes (IIC) around the world [...] are places for encounter and dialogue for intellectuals and artists, Italians living abroad and anyone wishing to cultivate a relationship with our country. (MAECI, n.d., translated from Italian into English by us, emphasis added)

A similar approach has been adopted by other countries, such as Armenia (Jebejian, 2011), Hungary (Hatoss, 2003), and Morocco (Agunias, 2009).

Yet this does not necessarily mean that by establishing diaspora institutions and promoting their language and culture abroad, these countries implicitly recognise that they have a duty to protect and promote the language rights of their non-resident citizens. That may sometimes be true. However, it may also be plausible to assume that in many cases, this choice – like that of establishing diaspora institutions more broadly – may be driven by the kinds of economic, diplomacy, and security interests discussed earlier, which can often be mutually beneficial for both states and their citizens. For example, as Myra Waterbury (2010) argues, states will often appeal to notions of a ‘global nation’ and target citizens abroad in order to gain geopolitical advantage, mobilise local political advantage, and gain access to resources (e.g. remittances). As a result, language institutes are often instruments of foreign policy and can receive financial support from foreign ministries. This dynamic is particularly true where countries have large diasporas, such as Indians in Africa or Mexicans in the United States. In summary, language institutes do more than just promote their culture and language to potential tourists, they maintain connections with their non-resident citizens to mobilise them as resources (Fitzgerald, 2006; Itzigsohn, 2000; Shain, 2007). However, the question of what motivates states’ decision to establish diaspora institutions promoting their language and culture is ultimately an empirical one. Our goal in this article is instead to answer a normative question: can such institutions can be morally justified from a linguistic justice perspective? We address this question in the following sections.

Citizenship and language rights

On what grounds can it be argued that states have a duty to provide their non-resident citizens with certain language rights, and what should these rights be? Our starting point is a widely endorsed understanding of citizenship, according to which ‘[a] citizen is a member of a political community who enjoys the rights and assumes the duties of membership’ (Leydet, 2017). We focus on the rights dimension of citizenship, famously captured by Hannah Arendt’s (1951) idea of citizenship as ‘the right to have rights’.

Importantly, we set aside the questions of how entitlement to citizenship should be established (e.g. whether it should be based on ius sanguinis or ius soli) and what specific rights should be associated with citizenship. Broadly speaking, citizenship normally entails a bundle of legal, political and social rights (Marshall, 1950), though which specific rights may vary from state to state. Our argument is that when individuals have certain rights qua citizens of a specific state, that state has a duty to provide them with the means necessary to exercise those rights. Those means, we argue, include the right to a sufficient level of proficiency in the majority language of that state, without which citizens may be unable to exercise some of their citizenship rights.

Our argument is grounded in Wellman’s (1995: 27) idea of ‘necessitation’. According to this view, ‘if it can be shown that some prior right can be secure, given the circumstances, only if it is protected or supplemented by some additional right, then the courts can, and usually will, recognize this new right’ (Wellman, 1995: 27). As Wellman points out, an example of this indirect justification for certain rights can be found in the landmark US Supreme Court decision Griswold v. Connecticut (1965: 482–483), which contains the following passage:

The right of freedom of speech and press includes not only the right to utter or to print, but the right to distribute, the right to receive, the right to read . . . and freedom of inquiry, freedom of thought, and freedom to teach . . . Without those peripheral rights, the specific rights would be less secure. ³

Our approach therefore makes language rights conditional on non-resident citizens having certain more fundamental citizenship rights. That is, we believe that the responsibility to satisfy the peripheral language rights of individuals lies with the particular institution or body that is the source of those individuals’ fundamental rights on which their language rights depend – in our case, individuals’ country of citizenship. To be clear, we do not aim to justify those fundamental rights per se and we recognise that some of them may be considered problematic. For example, we are aware that the recognition of voting rights for non-resident citizens has been the object of criticism by normative political theorists (e.g. López-Guerra, 2005). However, for the sake of argument we set these issues aside here and assume that whichever fundamental rights are attached to citizenship of a specific state are justified. Relatedly, we are aware that a number of scholars have defended the view that rights and legal citizenship should be disaggregated (e.g. Bosniak, 2006; Song, 2009; Soysal, 1994) and that therefore, for example, some rights that are currently considered an exclusive privilege of legal citizens – such as voting rights – should also be granted to resident non-citizens and, in some cases, taken away from non-resident citizens. However, also in this case, for the sake of argument, we simply assume that whichever fundamental citizenship rights non-resident citizens are granted – those rights may not perfectly match those of resident citizens – they are also entitled to peripheral rights that guarantee their enjoyment or those fundamental rights.

In summary, our argument is the following: if and when non-resident citizens of a state enjoy certain fundamental rights qua citizens of that state, and assuming that those rights are justified, the state that has granted those rights to them has a duty to also grant them the corresponding language rights that are necessary for those citizens to securely exercise their fundamental citizenship rights. Failing to do so would imply, in effect, preventing those citizens from (fully) exercising their citizenship rights. ⁴

Our approach, grounding language rights in more fundamental rights tied to citizenship, presents a significant advantage. More specifically, it helps us to draw clear boundaries around those who are entitled to these rights. While other categories of individuals may have language-related interests similar to those that citizens have, their not being citizens prevents them from being entitled to the rights that citizens enjoy. For example, emigrants who are not citizens of their country of origin (e.g. because they have relinquished that citizenship) or people with no citizenship nor ancestral ties to a country might also have weighty interests in learning its language (as evidenced, for example, by people’s willingness to pay for language classes run by organisations such as the Alliance Française or the British Council). However, since these individuals do not have any citizenship rights tied to citizenship of that country, in their case furthering those language interests via corresponding language rights cannot be considered necessary for the exercise of any citizenship rights. ⁵

Furthermore, and relatedly, by considering language rights derivative of more fundamental non-language rights, our approach is also in line with the linguistic justice literature which, as we will explain shortly, considers the language interests in which language rights are grounded derivative of more fundamental interests. Indeed, as De Schutter and Robichaud point out,

[a]ll arguments [for or against language recognition] appeal [. . .] to the importance of language for individuals and states, whether that importance serves identity or other interests. Language is supposed to be good or important for something else; it is not defended as a good in itself. (De Schutter and Robichaud 2015: 96, emphasis added)

But what does this ‘something else’ involve? As we explain in the next section, the linguistic justice literature identifies four main types of interests in which language rights can be grounded. The assumption underlying this approach is twofold: first, a right has the function to advance those interests of a right-holder that are considered to have sufficient moral weight to justify holding others under a duty to respect that right (see Wenar, 2021); and, second, certain language interests have sufficient moral weight to justify corresponding rights (De Schutter, 2022). Those interests are opportunity access, democracy, life-world access, and dignity (De Schutter, 2022; De Schutter and Robichaud, 2015).

Language interests: An overview

Language interests are interests in language that individuals have because they have an interest in realising other (non-language) goals (De Schutter and Robichaud, 2015: 96). The realisation of such goals may require that individuals be proficient in one or more specific languages, which may not necessarily be their first or heritage language(s) but may also include the majority language of the country in which individuals live. Language interests are normally divided into two categories: non-identity and identity interests. Let us consider them in turn.

The first non-identity interest concerns opportunity access (De Schutter, 2022: 423). Speaking (a) certain language(s) opens up opportunities, such as access to jobs and education. Consider the latter. In many states, citizens’ interest in accessing educational opportunities is furthered via the recognition of their fundamental right to education. This right may require a peripheral right to language, since access to education is virtually impossible without some degree of linguistic proficiency in the language(s) employed in educational settings (Humphries et al., 2013). A number of scholars have argued that furthering individuals’ opportunity interests (in job, education, and other areas) requires maximising their knowledge of the dominant language(s) used in education. For example, writing about Hispanic children in the United States, Thomas Pogge points out that

the most important linguistic competence for children now growing up in the US is the ability to communicate in English; and the language of instruction in public schools in the US should therefore be chosen by reference to the goal of effectively helping pupils develop fluency in English. (Pogge, 2003: 118–119)

Likewise, Brian Barry (2001) points out that opportunity access demands that children be taught the majority language of their society. While Pogge and Barry’s arguments also apply to children who are not US citizens (e.g. children of immigrants who were not born in the United States), their reasoning is still relevant to our analysis of non-resident citizens: furthering someone’s opportunity interests (which, in the case of citizens, are often advanced via corresponding rights) requires furthering their language interests in certain ways. ⁶

A second type of non-identity interest concerns democracy. Most theorists of linguistic justice believe that participation in democratic life requires a shared language (e.g. Kymlicka, 2001; Patten, 2009; Van Parijs, 2011; see also Barry, 1999, 2001; Ipperciel, 2007; Mill, 1991 [1861]). Some scholars do consider the possibility (and desirability) of multilingual forms of democratic participation and deliberation (e.g. Bonotti and Stojanović, 2022; Doerr, 2018) but this remains a marginal position within the literature.

Alongside non-identity interests, there are also certain identity interests associated with language. The first is life-world access. This interest is often tied to autonomy. In his influential theory of liberal multiculturalism, for example, Will Kymlicka (1989, 1995) argues that individual autonomy (a key liberal value) requires a cultural context of choice within which it can be exercised. Furthermore, according to Kymlicka (1995: 89, quoting Margalit and Raz, 1990: 448), cultural identity offers an ‘anchor for . . . self-identification and the safety of effortless secure belonging’. In the specific case of language, it can be argued that members of a language group share ‘implicit knowledge of how to do what, of tacit conventions regarding what is part of this or that enterprise and what is not, what is appropriate and what is not, what is valuable and what is not’ (Margalit and Raz, 1995: 86). This is where the idea of a ‘life-world’ also becomes relevant. According to De Schutter (2022: 423),

members of a language community share particular sets of options and information. A language structures its speakers’ ‘life-world’. This life-world interest in language can be the basis of an argument that advocates for the ability of people to continue living in their own life-world.

Asking people to abandon their life-world/context of choice and join another one (e.g. by assimilating into the mainstream culture of their host society) is both practically difficult (especially for older people) and unjust. More specifically, according to Kymlicka (1989, 1995), members of minority cultures are unlucky since their access to their culture and life-world is less secure than that of members of the majority culture is to theirs. This is what, in his view, demands the protection and recognition of minority cultures via multiculturalism policies and group-differentiated rights, including minority language rights.

Finally, another identity language interest concerns dignity. According to several linguistic justice theorists, the state recognition of different languages, or lack thereof, affects their speakers’ self-respect and dignity. If members of a linguistic minority live under a state which officially recognises and promotes the language of the majority, and perhaps even some other minority languages, but not their minority language, it is likely that they will feel treated as second-class citizens. As Philippe Van Parijs points out,

[i]n a situation in which people’s collective identities are closely linked to their native language, there arises a major threat to the recognition of an equal status to all as soon as the native language of some is given what is unquestionably a superior function. (Van Parijs, 2011: 3–4)

This, according to Van Parijs, demands some level of equal recognition of different languages. In the context of the EU, for example, this already partly happens via the EU’s recognition of 24 official languages. Van Parijs defends a more demanding view, according to which every language should be granted a territory in which it is dominant. In the context of his overall theory of linguistic justice, which defends the role of English as a European and global lingua franca, this defence of linguistic territoriality is especially important for ensuring that speakers of languages other than English are not considered second-class citizens and do not suffer from low self-respect and dignity.

Language interests and linguistic justice for non-resident citizens

The interest-based approach that is central to debates on linguistic justice in normative political theory has so far neglected the language interests of non-resident citizens qua non-resident citizens, that is, the language interests involved in their relationship with their country of origin. In this section, we begin to sketch a theory of linguistic justice for non-resident citizens. In doing so, we focus specifically on the two non-identity language interests outlined in the previous section: opportunity access and democracy. We do so because while it is possible to identify fundamental citizenship rights that clearly track those interests – for example, the right to work/to free education and voting rights – and therefore justify related peripheral language rights, the same cannot be argued regarding the two identity interests of life-world access and dignity. ⁷ Therefore, given the logic of our argument, we set those two identity interests aside here. ⁸

Our argument, it should be noted, is not that the very existence of non-resident citizens’ language interests in opportunity access and democracy justifies granting them corresponding rights. Instead, as we explained earlier, we start from the assumption that citizens (including non-resident citizens) are legitimately granted certain fundamental rights by their state, based on certain fundamental interests that they have which are morally weighty enough to justify holding their state under a duty to respect those rights. The full enjoyment of those fundamental rights requires that citizens (including non-resident citizens) are also granted certain peripheral language rights that are grounded in peripheral language interests. Our analysis in this section therefore only aims to articulate two categories of language interests tracked by non-resident citizens’ rights, in order to better understand what linguistic justice demands in the case of non-resident citizens.

Opportunity access

Let us consider, first, opportunity access, for example, in employment and education. Most states grant their citizens – including their non-resident citizens – the fundamental rights to work and to free public education. ⁹ Many non-resident citizens may want to exercise these rights, that is, they may have an interest in accessing job and/or educational opportunities in their (or their ancestors’) country of origin. Many non-resident citizens are temporary emigrants, for example, citizens of a EU member state who move to another EU member state for a short period of time in order to learn the local language, study, or work. Many of these emigrants intend to return soon to their country of origin, where they may seek job opportunities (unless they already have a job that they temporarily left before their departure). Clearly these emigrants have an interest in accessing job opportunities in their country of origin, an interest that is furthered by their fundamental right to work in that country, which they enjoy qua citizens. Based on our argument, these temporary emigrants also have a right to be proficient in the language in which those opportunities are available. However, it seems plausible to argue that such a right does not necessarily require providing them with any language-related support. If we assume that temporary emigrants are native speakers of the majority language of their country of origin, it is unlikely that their proficiency in that language will decrease during their short stay abroad. Therefore, there does not seem to be a rationale for justifying any kind of language support from their country of origin based on their peripheral language interests (and rights) related to opportunity access. Or, to be more precise, one can argue that that right has already been fulfilled by their country of origin, for example, through the provision of early literacy education.

However, this conclusion seems too rushed. While language loss is particularly common among second- and third-generation descendants of emigrants, first-generation emigrants (the category to which temporary emigrants belong) may also experience it to some degree. More precisely, they may experience what linguists generally refer to as ‘language attrition’, that is, ‘a reduction, weakening or loss of a first, second, third, or more language in an individual person or in a community’ (Ahlsén, 2013: 1). Two aspects of language attrition are especially relevant to the analysis of temporary emigrants’ language interests. First, ‘[t]he degree of attrition can vary and different parts or aspects of language can be affected’ (Ahlsén, 2013: 1). This is important since while it is unlikely that temporary emigrants will completely lose proficiency in their first language (L1), it is not implausible that they might lose some degree of proficiency in some areas of that language, even after a short period of time spent abroad. Second, age is a significant factor in the process of language attrition. More specifically, the level of language attrition in L1 can be particularly high for children who migrate before puberty (Bylund, 2009; Schmid, 2002; Schmid and Köpke, 2007). The risk, for these children, is that they may lose full proficiency in their L1 once they become exposed to L2 in their host country (especially through full-time education), even if this exposure only lasts for a few months/years and even if they continue to be exposed to L1 (e.g. at home). If and when these children return to their country of origin, they may have lost the L1 level of proficiency necessary to access some key opportunities, for example, educational or job-related. Depending on the level of language attrition they have experienced, it may take them some time to acquire (again) the proficiency level necessary to access those opportunities. Therefore, temporary emigrants’ peripheral language rights, grounded in their interest in opportunity access, impose a duty upon their country of citizenship to provide them with at least some degree of language support. This support may be tailored to the specific needs of these emigrants, for example, their ability to write job/university applications, cover letters, and so on.

When considering permanent or long-term emigrants and their descendants, one might first assume that they do not have an interest in accessing opportunities in their country of origin. However, also in this case we should not rush into making these kinds of assumptions. There is evidence, for example, that many elderly emigrants decide to return to their country of origin in their retirement years, or at least divide their residency between that country and their host country (e.g. Bolzman et al., 2006). These emigrants may therefore have an interest in accessing various opportunities in their country of origin. These might include various forms of part-time work after retirement, volunteering, studying, or using public services – all opportunities that they normally have a right to access. If they have lived for a long time away from their country of origin, these emigrants may have experienced significant levels of language attrition that may hinder their ability to fully access those opportunities in their country of origin. Therefore, they may have an interest in accessing language support that would compensate for this loss.

But access to similar opportunities may also be important for their descendants. There is indeed a rich literature on ‘second-generation return’, that is, the migration of second-generation descendants of migrants born in the host country to their parents’ country of birth (e.g. Potter and Phillips, 2006; Wessendorf, 2007). These non-resident citizens may often be not fully proficient (or not proficient at all) in the language of their parents’ country of origin. And indeed, in some cases, migrant parents actively encourage their children to return to their country of origin in order to learn its language (King and Christou, 2010: 169).

Therefore, it seems that even in the case of long-term first-generation emigrants and their second-generation descendants, proficiency in the language of their (or their parents’) country of origin may be important to access opportunities in that country in case of return. And given that language attrition or even language loss may especially affect these kinds of non-resident citizens, linguistic justice demands that their (or their parents’) country of origin provides them with language support in order to ensure that they can fully exercise the right that they have, qua citizens of that country, to access those opportunities.

Democracy

The second category of non-identity language interests, we explained, is an interest in democracy. One of the fundamental rights of citizenship is the right to vote in one country’s elections (and, where relevant, referendums) and, more broadly, to participate in democratic life. While the right to vote, at least in democratic countries, is usually granted to all resident citizens above a certain age, non-resident citizens are also often entitled to it. Indeed, as we explained earlier, 115 countries and territories around the world grant their non-resident citizens voting rights, although with some variations in terms of specific rules (De Lazzari, 2019; IDEA and IFE, 2007). The granting of voting rights to non-resident citizens – tracking the latter’s interest in democratic participation – is therefore a very widespread phenomenon in the contemporary world. A discussion of non-resident citizens’ language interest in democracy therefore also has broad relevance. ¹⁰

Since the exercise of the rights to vote and to participate in democratic life requires that one is able to understand and communicate political information, states have a duty to ensure that their citizens – including their non-resident citizens, when they enjoy those rights – also have peripheral language rights that enable them to exercise those fundamental rights. ¹¹ But to what extent does this apply to non-resident citizens? Some of the issues discussed in the previous section in relation to opportunity access are also relevant to the analysis of non-resident citizens’ language interest in democracy. For a start, in the same way in which emigrants who want to return to their country of origin may have an interest in accessing job, educational, and other opportunities there, they may also have an interest in participating in democratic life in that country if and when they go back. And we have seen that there is a general consensus, in the literature on linguistic justice, around the idea that democratic participation is facilitated by the presence of a lingua franca that all citizens share. Therefore, it would seem that returning emigrants have an interest in accessing the lingua franca of their country of origin for this reason and that this interest may require language learning when these emigrants have experienced language loss or attrition.

However, in many cases a democracy-related language interest is important not only for those emigrants who decide to return to their country of origin but also for all non-resident citizens (including emigrants and their descendants) of those states which, we have seen, grant them voting rights while living abroad. It is plausible to argue that many of these citizens may have very little if any proficiency in the language of their country of origin. Imagine, for example, an Italian-American whose great-grandparents emigrated from Italy to the United States in the late 19th century. This person is likely to have (or be entitled to have) Italian citizenship, based on the ius sanguinis that is central to Italian nationality law. Therefore, due to Italy’s current legislation (De Lazzari, 2019), this person will also automatically have the right to vote in Italian general elections and referendums, even if they have never lived in (or been to) Italy before and, crucially for our analysis, even if they do not speak Italian at all. An analogous scenario can be imagined for all those countries in which external voting is similarly permissive and no restrictions are imposed on which specific categories of citizens have the right to vote from abroad. This is the case ‘[i]n a majority of the 115 countries and territories [that grant their non-resident citizens voting rights, where] the legislation on external voting does not include any special or restrictive requirement for individuals to be eligible for an external vote’ (IDEA and IFE, 2007: 18).

If one believes that language proficiency is important for accessing information related to political matters, this would seem to be very problematic. How can a non-resident citizen, with no knowledge of the language in which political debate and democratic participation are conducted in their country of origin, meaningfully participate in that country’s democratic life and vote in elections if they cannot understand campaign speeches, read party manifestos, and more generally access and understand media and news sources in that language? Perhaps this person may have access to sources of information about political matters in their country of citizenship in the majority language of their host country (or in whichever their first language is). These sources might include either local media or media run by the country of origin in the local language (e.g. in Australia, the English language version of the Italian newspaper Il Globo provides Italian citizens with some information about Italian politics). ¹² However, the information provided by these sources may be very limited and perhaps, in some cases, biased. It seems that, therefore, the peripheral language rights of non-resident citizens who are granted external voting rights by their country of citizenship entail some degree of language support, that is, sufficient support to enable them to meaningfully exercise their fundamental right to vote.

At this point, it might be objected that, by their very decision to migrate, emigrants consent to waiving their country of origin’s obligation to satisfy their language interests via corresponding language rights. However, this argument seems to be problematic for a number of reasons. For a start, not all rights can be waived, especially rights to primary goods (Bauböck, 2001: 337; Carens, 2000: 81). For example, one might plausibly argue that emigrants cannot waive their rights to work and to vote and, consequently, the peripheral language rights that derive from those fundamental core rights. But even if we grant (for the sake of argument) that those fundamental rights could be waived, it would still be difficult to argue that all emigrants have voluntarily consented to waiving them. For example, certain emigrants – for example, refugees who escape persecution in their homeland or emigrants who escape dire socio-economic conditions (of which they are often not responsible) – can hardly be said to have made a fully voluntary decision to leave their country (Carens, 2000: 81; Choudry, 2002: 63–64; Kymlicka, 1995: 99). Furthermore, it is certainly the case that the descendants of emigrants (e.g. their children and grandchildren) have definitely not voluntarily consented to waiving any of their rights since they did not decide to emigrate. Since it is especially these categories of non-resident citizens – that is, descendants of emigrants rather than emigrants themselves – who are likely to lack (or have limited) proficiency in their country of citizenship’s official/majority language and require language support from that country, and also in view of all the aforementioned reasons, we believe that the consent objection fails to weaken our argument.

Conclusion

Many countries around the world have created diaspora institutions in order to promote their language and culture among their communities abroad. These institutions, however, remain undertheorized in the linguistic justice literature. Relatedly, the linguistic justice literature in political theory has so far neglected the language interests of non-resident citizens qua non-resident citizens, focusing instead on their status as immigrants and their relationship with their host country. In this article, we have addressed these shortcomings by developing the first normative theory of linguistic justice for non-resident citizens, which can be employed to evaluate language-related diaspora institutions. More specifically, we have argued that non-resident citizens have peripheral language rights which track certain language interests and which their country of citizenship must protect in order for them to be able to fully exercise some of their fundamental citizenship rights. We have focused especially on two types of language interests: opportunity access and democracy, illustrating what they entail for non-resident citizens.

Our argument has important implications for the analysis of language-related diaspora institutions. First, as we pointed out earlier, states have often used such institutions to promote their language and culture abroad among foreign citizens. In some cases, states have also used these institutions as soft foreign policy and diplomacy tools for enhancing their international profile. Our argument implies that such institutions should adjust their focus and pay more attention to the language interests of non-resident citizens, as some of them are already doing.

Second, and relatedly, in order to cater for non-resident citizens’ language interests, there should also be a shift in the way these institutions teach and promote language learning. So far, language promotion has often been associated with cultural promotion, and language has therefore been viewed mainly as a channel for accessing a country’s literature, art, cinema, and so on. However, we believe that more attention should be paid to non-resident citizens’ opportunity access and democracy language interests, and the corresponding rights. Non-resident citizens’ ability to access opportunities in their country of citizenship, or to participate in the latter’s political life, is language-dependent. It is therefore important that diaspora institutions also provide non-resident citizens with access to language learning that is instrumental to fulfilling those kinds of interests and exercising those kinds of rights. This may be achieved, for example, via language classes that teach them how to write a CV or cover letter in the country of citizenship’s majority language (to access job and educational opportunities there), or to read and understand the political language used in party manifestos and campaign speeches in that country before elections (for them to be able to be informed voters and participate in political life). These are just some examples. The main point is that language-related diaspora institutions should diversify their language support for non-resident citizens in order to help them to realise the full range of their language interests. A more detailed account of how this may translate into specific policy recommendations is something that we leave for another day.