Costs and benefits of labor migration

2013–2014

ERSTE Foundation Fellowship for Social Research Labour Market and Employment in Central and Eastern Europe

Costs and benefits of labor migration on migrants’ professional trajectories and their households’ well-being: comparative case study of Ukrainian labor migration to Italy and Ireland.

Olena Fedyuk

Costs and benefits of labor migration on migrants’ professional trajectories and their households’ well-being: comparative case study of Ukrainian labor migration to Italy and Ireland.

By Olena Fedyuk Abstract.

Based on the interviews with Ukrainian migrants of different regularity statuses in Italy and the Republic of Ireland, this study sets off to unbox the notion of “regularity” as a clear-cut and unambiguous state and explore in depth the fragmentation of status and rights that the process of regularization often entail. The study also looks at the emerging compensating mechanisms and networks that are developed by migrants in place of the institutional deadends. Legality and regularity in migration, - that are often presented in policy making as a black and white matter, - are in practice, a complex and lengthy process for migrating individuals. In public debates and policy-making legal / regularized migrants are often presented as welcome and wanted while illegal ones as unwanted and often criminal. In practice, however, a lengthy process of regularization and the lack of communication between various state institutions involved create a vast number of forms of semi-regular states of liminal legality (Menjivar 20116) among migrants, where family members often have different status. Many spent years suspended in processes of applying, re-applying and (re-)validating their status. All of these shades of regularity open or close certain doors to employment, mobility, social services, health and studying opportunities and, to a great extent, affect people’s professional opportunities, migratory decisions and trajectories, family rights and personal lives. The research looks into access to labor market, social security and opportunities for mobility for Ukrainian migrants in countries that have different immigration regimes.

This research project was developed within the ERSTE Foundation Fellowship for Social Research 2013 Parts of this project have been developed with a support of ENPI project on “Costs and benefits of increased labor mobility between the EaP countries and the EU.”

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1. Introduction and the state-of-the-art: striking a balance between fear and need in the EU. Opening up of national borders among the EU member states triggered new waves of moral panics about the immigration and created the need for more elaborate forms of hierarchies that would regulate spatial and social mobility of its citizens, particularly access to labour, welfare and voting rights. While internal physical border controls have been disappearing, new forms of classifications, permissions, nationality- and occupation-based provisions pushed the frontiers of exclusion and inclusion inside the national labour markets and welfares, creating more tangible barriers for particular groups of EU citizens and even more so, for the 3 rd country nationals.

EU nation states have moved away from closed national borders into a complicated pattern of openings and closures in the spheres of labour markets and social benefits based on the age, nationality and occupational background of a migrant, thus redefining the very nature of the relation between the state, citizens and external labour force (De Genova 2013). Economic meltdown of the last six years increased precariousness of the local jobs; to some small degree it intensified the competition between the immigrant and the local workers, but mostly resulting in fears, antiimmigrant sentiments, stereotyping and in, increasingly more so, in right-wing antiimmigrant attitudes and violence.

These powerful transformations led to a certain crisis of discipline in migration studies, as scholars are grappling with the nature of these changes, defining them as proliferation of borders (Mezzadra and Neilson 2013), fragmented citizenship (Deneva 2013), differential inclusion (De Genova 2013), contractual or contributionbased citizenship (Sommers 2008). All of these analytical frameworks grapple with the same idea – how the state redraws inclusion and exclusion of particular groups of people and individuals into labour markets and welfare, maximizing its benefit and individualizing the cost. Regulating migration by the ethnic, gender, social and professional profile of migrants becomes one of the main ways of maximizing profits.

The principle of categorization of migrants justifies the different treatment of the human beings based on their perceived value for the EU labour markets (an approach which in many ways became not only a normative vision of the policy makers but a form of “common sense” in thinking about migration).

EU’s acknowledged priority for high-skilled labour, which found its reflection in the EU Blue Card Directive also primarily reflects Europe’s reinforcement of the principle of “cataloguing” migrants by their skills, nationality, and income. This principle have not only widened the gap between the “good” (high-skilled and prosperous migrants) and “poor” (and unwanted migrants) (De Somer 2012, De Genova 2013) but effectively legitimized intensification of control over various labour flows.

Division into highly skilled professionals, international students, and temporary, seasonal or circular (low-skilled workers) reflects the utilitarian approach to human individuals and furthermore justifies the differential provisions for migrants, such as prospects for long-term residence, renewal of contracts, reunification of the families, prospects for studying and carrier advance, access to social benefits. Thus, EU Blue

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Card Directive allows for a passage for those with enough skills and resources that overwrites EU citizenship limitations, giving green light to professionals and people with capital, in many ways equating their citizenship rights with those of the EU members.

The flip side of this program, however, is the implication that the EU does not need a low-skilled migration. Nevertheless, there are numerous evidences that the EU continues to rely heavily on the immigrant labour in many so called “low-skilled” sectors, particularly all forms of care, catering, construction, food processing, etc.

(OECD 2012). Imposing labour market access limitations for the new member states is one of the prominent ways to control mobility of the workers classified as low skilled. In perpetuating the closures to labour market and social benefits, EU brings closer some of its citizens to non-EU citizens re-creating hierarchies and second-class citizenship. Thus, while joining the EU allowed for inclusion of the new member states and higher mobility, the borders and exclusion has moved from the territorial realm into the dimension of access to labour and social security.

2. Aims, objectives and methodology Several conceptual frameworks attempted a more nuanced understanding of the new practices of exclusion and inclusion of migrants through rapidly changing ideas of borders, forms of access to national labour markets, social benefits and political rights in the EU and Schengen zone (for instance De Genova 2013, Squire 2011).

Therefore, more cross-disciplinary and critical research is needed to understand the shifting nature of growing precariousness, access and exclusion in the times of nominal opening of the territorial borders. Reflecting on the experience of limitations and opportunities among the respondents in this study, the paper has several objectives:  To challenge the assumption that “legality” or “regularity” of migrants’ status is a clear-cut categorical state.  To reveal that achieving regularity status is a complex and lengthy process for migrating individuals and often takes years to achieve and can result in various partial statuses.  To explore, how the various degrees of regularity, semi-regular conditions and limitations of migrants status affect their access to work, social security, mobility and family rights.  To explore the informal safety networks that emerge in response to various status limitations.  By referring to two country studies to compare possible impact of policies on migrants’ trajectories and networks.

In relation to such objectives my methodology consisted of ethnographic and policy analysis components. The ethnographic component, which comprised of semistructured in-depth interviews, was essential for accessing respondents, who due to the complexity or partiality of their legal status remain otherwise “invisible” to authorities and various forms of surveying. Following migrants through informal

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networks and conducting in-depth interviews allowed to (a) trace professional trajectories before and during migration, (b) discuss envisioned prospects for further carriers and professional plans, (c) account for personal experience of overcoming employment difficulties, (d) trace the role of semi-formal strategies and networks that lead to employment, (e) account for the effects of various partial regularity statuses on personal lives and mobility.

Contrasting practices and personal histories with policy analysis of two distinct national immigration, welfare and labour regimes allowed to (a) embed personal stories and trajectories into the relevant policies, (b) see the effects of the policies on personal trajectories, (c) compare the effects of the policies and the informal practices for migrants’ employment, security and mobility. Trying to compare possible impact of policies on migrants’ trajectories and networks it was important to have a comparative perspective between at least two migratory regimes. I looked into Italy and Ireland, which provided me with a number of differentiated factors that I would like to describe briefly, before turning to the main analysis of this study.

Ukrainian labour mobility. Statistics on contemporary labour migration from Ukraine display a conspicuous uncertainty of estimates: from 1.5-2 million indicated by some Ukrainian large-scale sociological surveys (Libanova, et al 2008, Malynovska 2006) to 5 million, i.e. 20 per cent of working population of Ukraine (Kyzyma 2006, Hofmann and Reichel 2011). Malynovska (2004) estimates that 8-9 million unregistered Ukrainians are working abroad. Emigration intensity and its demographic characteristics are mostly defined by the gendered occupational sectors in the receiving countries; while more men migrate to Russia and Czech Republic to perform construction work, more women migrate to Southern Europe to engage in domestic and care work. Though male migrants dominate Ukrainian emigration, the number of migrating women is reportedly higher in Western regions of Ukraine, where women comprise 60-70% of those working abroad (Volodko 2011, Zhurzhenko, 2008). The flows to such countries as Italy and Greece are particularly feminized: over 80% of all migrants are women in both cases (Istat 2011, Volodko 2011). Employment in the domestic sector among the Ukrainian migrants has the lowest per cent of written contracts (just over 16%). Respectively, the countries that hire a great number of Ukrainian domestic workers share the lowest percentage of the written contracts (Russia, Poland, Italy) (Vakhtinova and Coup, 2013).

By work sector there is the following division of Ukrainian migrants abroad: 50-55% of migrants are involved in construction and 15-20% of them provide domestic and care services, 8-9% are in agriculture and a similar ratio of them in trade activities, 8.5% in agriculture and only about 5% in industry (Malynovska 2010, Vakhtinova and Coup, 2013). Russia is the preferred destination country (almost 50% ), Italy and Czech Republic (13-14%) follow it, 7-8% of Ukrainians migrate to Poland, 2-4% of them to Spain, Portugal, and Hungary and 8-9% to other countries (estimations from Malynovska 2010).

Ukrainian migration to Italy and Ireland differ in their intensity and demographic composition but both reflect main principles of post-independence labour migration, i.e. the demographic composition of migratory flows reflect the demand in gendered work sectors employing the migrants. Moreover, the distance to and the difficulty of entering the respectivenational borders, determine individual costs of such mobility 4

and, thus, to a degree are responsible for the composition of such flows. Ukrainian migration flows to both countries are new and have no history prior to the postindependence wave. Thus, Italy has 170 000 officially registered migrants and twice as much unofficial estimates; around 80% of all registered migrants are women, the average age of Ukrainian women in Italy is over 40 (Marchetti et al 2013), majority of who are working in the domestic and geriatric care sector. Majority of the migrants arrive to Italy on a short-term tourist visa issued by another Schengen state and, making use of the EU borderless territory, make their way to Italy. Here, as it will be discussed in greater detail in the results section, many women find work as live-in domestics, overstay their visa and spend several years in pursue of legalization.

In Ireland, the data on the number of Ukrainians can be drawn from the number of work permits, which between 2003 and 2009 added up to 13 thousand (Markov, et al. 2009). This migratory flow is characterized by more equal sex division and younger migration, while migrants’ employment follows similarly gendered sector division of labour: men in construction, women in domestic work. Additionally, many get employment at farms, food processing and recently – and increasingly – in highskilled employment. Since, as it will be discussed in the result section, the Republic of Ireland and the UK (with which it shares but a nominal border) have a stronger border control, migration to these countries is happening through the purchase of expensive (up to 4-5000 Euro) visas or work permits through intermediaries.

Alternatively, access can be gained via purchase of the travel and work-permitting documents1 of the New EU Member States, such as Poland, Latvia and Lithuania.

Travelling from these respective countries with “internal” EU documents allows for less rigorous passport controls, but, unlike in the Italian case, it does not give any hope for regularization of the status in the future.

In both, - migratory regimes of Italy and Ireland, - various forms of informality punctuate the histories of most Ukrainian migrants, making them invisible to many methods of surveying but an in-depth ethnographic enquiry. The differences of the two distinctive regimes, are primarily responsible for a great divergence of situational practices, access to welfare and labour, as well as mobility, safety networks and self-justifications among my respondents in two countries. Therefore, before I turn to discussing interview materials, I first turn to a more detailed discussion of migratory, welfare and labour regimes of the two country cases.

3. Italy and Ireland: at the intersection of migration and labor regimes.

I refer to William’s definition of regime as a sum of policies, practices and outcomes, which lead to a particular configuration of opportunities and limitations for migrants (Williams 2012). Williams observes that nation-states exist in a dynamic relationship of such interconnected domains as family, nation and work. Immigrant domestic care labour comes in particularly timely into a shifting nature of all three of these domains, i.e. the changing nature of work (as in rising rates of women’s participation in labour markets), families (changes in the family structures linked to ageing and 1

“Work-permitting / travel documents” is a general term that I use instead of specific names of the documents in order to protect revealing the specificities of the strategies employed by my respondents.

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decrease of fertility rates) and nations (increasing role of multi-level governance, shifting dimensions of inclusion and exclusion mechanisms). In order to understand the emerging forms of migrant labour one needs to unfold the specificities of the national migration regimes, employment and care policy legacies, as well as ethnicized and gendered discourses (Williams 2012: 369).

Regulation of migration in the EU is happening at a number of levels: supranational, national and local. Envisioning internal mobility as one of the founding principles of the EU, it has been striving to create an effective overarching principle of protecting its exterior borders, as well as principles of regulating internal flows of labour. While supra-national policies can serve as overarching principle, the main immigration policies in effect are the ones at the national level, which can be clearly seen in a variety of national migration policies and in Blue Card debates of the last 7 years (see De Sommers 2013). Moreover, while national policies overwrite general EU principles, local institutional practices often create additional passages or dead-ends on the local level. While exploring the effect of the local institutional framework would require a much more immersed ethnographic research, I will focus on the national level of policies as ones creating particular migration regimes that affected my interviewees.

National migration regimes in Italy and the Republic of Ireland.

The group of immigration policies that set the basis of present-day immigration regime in Italy dates back to the end of the 1990s – early 2000s. Drafted by the rightwing government at the time and being rather harsh on immigration in general, it became challenged by many social actors (including the Catholic Church, trade unions, employers’ associations and individual employers) exactly on the basis of the importance of the role of the domestic workers and carers in Italian families (van Hooren 2010, 2011). This resulted in adaptation of the regulations to allow for annual regularization of immigrant workers, in particular domestic and care givers.

The annual waves of regularization, were organized around national and general immigrant quotas till 2005, when domestic workers were singled out in addition to national and other occupational quotas, receiving 15 000 places, comparing to 16 000 places for all other occupations. Domestic workers’/ carers’ quotas grew at an amazing pace ever after. In 2008, due to the perceived effect of the economic crisis, Berlusconi’s government abolished any other occupational quotas for migrants, at the same time raising domestic worker’s quotas to its record number of 105,400 domestic workers (van Hooren 2010).

Thus, there are three distinct ways in which Italy has opened the doors to domestic and care workers while maintaining quite high anti-immigrant sentiment in general: (1) regularization for domestic workers already present in the country illegally or working in this sector irregularly (i.e. without proper work permits), (2) special entrance and work permit quotas for care and domestic workers (vs. national quotas for migrants for other occupations), and (3) allowing Romanians and Bulgarians to take up work in care sector without any restrictions (as opposed to limitations in other occupations) (van Hooren 2010, Marchetti et al 2013).

This outstanding effort to maintain the supply of immigrant care labour went in sharp contrast not only to the generally anti-immigrant governments and raising 6

negative sentiments among the public (especially in relation to particular nationals, such as Romanians). It further went along with the 20 years-long persistent failure of Italian state to reform its welfare in the areas of long-term care and particularly care for elderly and disabled (Da Roit and Le Bihan 2010). This particular combination of care and immigration regimes marked the transformation of the Italian “family” care model into the “migrant-in- the-family’ model of care (Van Hooren 2010, Bettio et al., 2006, Van Hooren 2011) and positions migrants as providers of the welfare (Marchetti 2013).

Unlike Italy, entering Ireland on a tourist visa to a different Schengen state is complicated by the fact that ithas on land borders with other Schengen states that can be crossed easily and unnoticeably,. However, it shares only a nominal border with the Northern Ireland and thus is open for those who succeeded entering the UK. Since 2011, Ukrainian holders of the UK general visa became eligible for visiting the Republic of Ireland as well, under a Short-stay Visa Waiver Programme that was conspicuously described by the Irish Government, as a“part of its Jobs Initiative with a view to promoting tourism from emerging markets”2. Work is only allowed for Ukrainian citizens with the valid work permit, however, the list of jobs currently ineligible for work permit applications include most of the “unskilled” occupations, including Craft Workers and Apprentice, Hotel Tourism and Catering, all categories of Childcare Workers, Labourers and Operatives, Administrative Positions, Sales and Transport Staff 3 . The only set of jobs that qualify for work permits have no occupational limitations but an income threshold; i.e. the annual salary is EUR 30,000 a year or more makes work permit available for all professions. This regulation not only blocked an opportunity to enter for work but to stay in work for all those Ukrainians who’s work permit has expired thus marking a major shift towards illegalization of the immigrant labour force by the Irish state.

Both eastward expansion of the EU in 2004 and economic crisis of 2007-2008 made major practical difference for Ukrainian labour force attempting and entering the Republic of Ireland. Since majority of the respondents in this study entered and stayed Ireland using the identification documents purchased from NMS nationals, I briefly account here for the welfare and labour regulations linked to the NMS nationals.

Prompted by the Irish booming economy, the state readily opened its borders and the labour market to ten NMS in 2004. However, already in 2004 measures have been taken to limit migrants’ access to welfare by introducing 2-year residence rule, according to which NMS immigrants could claim welfare benefits on the basis of “habitual residence”, i.e. a proved continuous residence in the UK or Ireland for two years prior to the application. The deepest economic recession since the 1930s that hit Ireland in 2007-8 caused an insurgence of anti-immigrant sentiment and the restrictions of migrants’ access to the welfare system on account of five criteria: (1) length and continuity of stay or residence, (2) length and purpose of any absence from Ireland, (3) nature and pattern of employment, (4) person’s main centre of interest, (5) future intensions (Barret and Joyce 2011). Since most of the 2

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http://www.irishconsulate.kiev.ua/en/short-stay-visa-waiver-programme http://www.workpermit.com/ireland/ineligible_job_categories.htm

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respondents in this study maintained work-permitting documents of NMS nationals, they remain invisible in any form of surveying, appearing as NMS nationals. In 2006 there were 94 thousand of Polish and 20 thousand for Lithuanian Personal Public Service Numbers (PPSN) registered in Ireland; a number that in 2008 declined to 42 thousand and five thousand respectively. While the crisis affected sharply the number of new PPSNs it gave no evidence of the return of migrants already registered in the country. Thus, while 209 thousand NMS nationals were living in Ireland in the beginning of 2008, 185 thousand were registered in 2009 (Krings et al.

2009).

Finally, a few words need to be said about the difference in the effect of the economic recession on Italy and Ireland and their migration policies. Italy, which has in the recent 30 years increase in the demand for care (especially geriatric care) maintained the steady demand in this sphere irrelatively of the crisis. Ireland has undergone the construction boom before 2007, and sharp drop and increase in unemployment after 2007, which was felt particularly sharp among the immigrant population employed in the labour sectors suffering most from recession (e.g. construction). Thus, while unemployment rates among Irish nationals increased from 4.6 to 9.4 per cent it grew from 6.4 to 17.7 per cent among the NMS nationals (Krings at al. 2009).

4. Findings All in all 12 respondents were interviewed in Dublin, the Republic of Ireland and 10 in Bologna, Italy. The factual information about the respondents can be found the charts (Appendix 3 and 4), however, it is important here to say a few words about the background of both groups.

Despite the relatively small number of respondents, Irish cohort demonstrated much bigger diversity of occupations, age and gender than Italian cohort, which in general reflects the difference in composition of Ukrainian migratory flows to these two countries. In Dublin the total of 5 women and 7 men of different age (between 25– 52) were interviewed. Among them three men were unemployed (one wanted to stay in Dublin and the others planned to return to Ukraine), two men were highskilled migrant employed (1) in a university, (2) by an IT multinational corporation, two workers drifted between a variety of manual jobs. Among the women two worked as cleaning ladies, one - as a super-market manager, one as a hair dresser and one more in a coffee-shop. In Italy, 9 women and 1 man between the age of 33 and 70 were interviewed. 6 out of 9 women worked in geriatric care, 1 (the youngest woman) worked as a baby-sitter and 2 were self-employed (one was running a cleaning agency and the other - a women's clothes shop). The interviewed man was out of work.

Comparing interviews from two countries it became clear that various forms of regularity, that the national migration regimes offered to my respondents, created differentiated set of obstacle for individual migrants in advancing claims for social security, slowing down their professional mobility, enforcing dependencies on state bureaucracy, creating particular fragmentation of migrants’ . Various temporary work statuses, however, unanimously left migrants in pro-longed waiting for the

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rights that would equate them and give an equal status with the local workers..

These resulted in migrants’ putting on hold their professional advance, family reunifications, opportunities for studying, spatial mobility, starting a family, etc.

Additionally, years spent in waiting for full legalization of statuses left most respondents with “white spots” in their carriers which negatively affected further professional opportunities, access to social benefits in both countries and obscured the opportunities of return to Ukraine. I will now turn to discussion of the main points in these findings by detailing them through my interview materials.

4.1 Italy: an aging care- worker.

Summarizing interviews there seem a certain collective profile that can be drawn on the similarities of my respondents’ trajectories that can be presented in the following highlights:  Entering Italy on a tourist visa and overstaying.  Staying 2-5 years in irregular employment, reluctant to change the original employer in the hope that the latter regularize them (agreeing on less money, more work, harsher conditions).  Women are more likely to get regularized then men, as men work in construction sites and less regular jobs that do not lead to establishing close connection to the employer.  After regularizing their status for the first time, all respondents had to renew residence permits every one - three years for at least five years: the bureaucratic drag of the seemingly clear procedure often delayed renewal of the papers, forcing respondents to postpone their visits home or switching to a better job.  Preferring to stay with employers who can secure renewal of the documents, even in cases of underpayments, failure to pay social security benefits or provide lawful free time.  Due to the personalized nature of care work most respondents preferred not to solve any issues with tax or social security payments via legal means, but through negotiation or avoiding conflict.  Often prefer to use health services during their vacation in Ukraine, even if entitled to health benefits in Italy. Due to the nature of care work respondents suggested that they have little or no opportunity to leave the person in care to attend hospitals or schedule long-awaited appointments. In Ukraine, they rely on informally paid services that allow them to obtain services on the spot but at a rapidly growing price..  No bilateral agreements exist between Ukraine and Italy concerning pensions; a care-giver is eligible for a pension payment in Italy after 15 years of regularized work, which in case of Ukrainian migrants has two major problems: (1) many migrants spend several years in irregular employment, which are “lost years” form the social benefits perspective, (2) due to the particular demographic profile of Ukrainian care-givers in Italy (i.e. over 40) many quit due to age and hardships of profession before they reach the required 15 years of regularized occupation.

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I will now turn to illustrate some of these points through the selected abstracts from interviews.

4.1.1 The cost of initial migration.

It was observed that for many of my respondents initial migration was linked with quite outstanding expenses due to (a) a rather desperate economic situation at the moment of their departure, (b) lack of transparent mechanisms of obtaining traveling documents or permissions for work and accessible knowledge about the existing opportunities, (c) often fraudulent activities of the intermediaries. In Italy all of my respondents identified the following expenses linked to their initial migration: (a) travel expenses, (b) visa expenses (identified by and paid to intermediaries), (c) the price of the job (that had to be bought from the previous employee or from an intermediary), (d) quickly growing debt on the money that was borrowed in order to pay the travel and visa expenses.

None of my respondents entered Italy on a proper work visa; majority entered on a Schengen travel visa opened to some country in the EU via more or less official intermediary companies. In relation to travel expenses, several of my respondents made more than one trip before they could enter the destination country; several travelled with fake or doubtful visas, and a few respondents were detained and returned to Ukraine at least once: … In fact, I’ve left Ukraine twice: once we had a proper visa but they found some wrong stamp in my passport, so I was turned back from the German border with the deportation stamp. The second time I already went by myself, through Moscow, then Barcelona, and then France. I paid 800 USD the first time [which was not given back]. The second time I threatened them [the visa issuing agency]… Since I had the protocol from the German border I said I will go with this paper to police. They gave me new visa for free, but I paid 450 Euro for the trip (Katia,52, IT). …I also changed my passport three times…of course, for all of this I had no money…at first I had a German visa, but was returned from the border, second time I had Spanish or Portuguese visa…I don’t remember…but I didn’t go because my husband then got stabbed and he was in the hospital. The agency said “fine, pay the buck for the visa and don’t go, fine with us.” So I paid but I didn’t go…I had to start all over again, the third time... it was a Greek visa (Lilia, 39, IT).

These experiences of dependencies and insecurity often became traumatic for my respondents. Many resolved to migrate as a “last resort” when other means of securing income were exhausted. The idea of migration possibilities, vague rumours and imaginations about the conditions of work and salaries made many into docile objects of entrepreneurial schemes by the “travel” agencies and willing to pay any price for a mere possibility to migrate. Often being in a desperate financial situation, my respondents borrowed money at particularly high rates thus creating long-lasting dependencies: …I first came to Greece… back in 1994… our [Ukrainian] women already were there, some have stayed for 3-7 months, could speak some Greek. And I couldn’t learn a word… I was depressed, thinking that I have debts and that if something happens to me my children will have to give back the debts, but how??? I only prayed to God to pay back those debts (Veronica, 60, IT).

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… You know, it was a horrible time [2000]…Everyone was leaving abroad, and not only that, just it was a real dead-end, no money at all. No money to pay for electricity, gas…Catastrophe! No one was helping me, so I decided to borrow money at a rate. From some strangers [here: non-family], at a 10 % monthly rate. One month passed after I have borrowed 500 USD – 50 more to pay…. And I have accumulated pretty big sum, because first I thought I would go to Portugal but, God helped me, and instead I went to Italy… I was very worried, waited for 2-3 months – no reply from an agency, and the debts were growing…it took me around 8 months of work in Italy to just give back the debts (Ljuba, 55, IT).

Similarly, in another interview when my respondent has initiated her trip 3 times, paying each time a fee for a false visa and then being returned from a border, she never managed to get the money back neither for the visa nor for the trip. My interviewee recalls that she has borrowed 2500 Euro under 10% rate per month (i.e.

120% yearly rate) for the trip. However, it took her 6 months (after she has borrowed the money) to accomplish this trip successfully, during which she stayed at home waiting for the documents and not being able to pay back the debt: ….I worked for those debts for 3 and half years. No one knew how much money I owed. I never told my children. No one knew, only me and God (Hanna, 70, IT).

In case of the investment for the first trip open up the issue of the individual cost of both entering visa regimes and overcoming distances. Many of my respondents were stranded from a few months to a few years in paying back their expenses linked to relocation and obtaining a job. This is an important obstacle for considering circularity, - a pattern that has been particularly celebrated by the EU policy makers (see Triandafillidou 2011),- even in those cases when there is a suitable employment and a legal status. The costs of such a move seem to weigh heavy on migrants’ both economic situation (especially considering the state of chronic unemployment and under-payments that proceed the decision to migrate (point 3.1.1.)) and on migrants’ emotional condition. Thus, most of the initial travel accounts to Italy remained a traumatic experience to my respondents, linked to periods of extreme dependencies (on intermediaries, border officials, and in three cases from Italy, criminal networks), insecurity and lack of control over the situation.

4.1.2. Access to labour market.

In an informal system, described to me by some of my respondents as “common only for Ukrainian migrants” a successful job reference to an employer would be a paid service, even if exchanged between friends or relations: …In 2002 I paid 600 Euro for that job…well, she [my friend] cheated me a bit. She said she won’t take any money but when my first month of work was over she borrowed some money from me and never gave it back. When I asked her about this she responded: “What did you think, I found you a job just like that, for free?” (Katia, 52) …I was coming here [to Italy] to join my relative, but wherever you go, you need to pay for the jobs. I paid her 300 USD. Back then [2000], in Naples that was the price…I worked only 3 months there and then escaped from there…because there I was not even allowed to go out…after three months I was going crazy… I called another friend and I asked her to do something, to take me out of there…ok…so I went to Bologna where she found me a job, and there I had to pay 500 Lira. (Oksana, 56).

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Paying for jobs effectively stands as an obstacle to mobility in migration; it prolongs migrants’ stay in Italy, often makes a change of jobs a risky, expensive enterprise or leads to months of work without actual income. Thus, in one of the interviews, Ljuba (55) in a complex narrative of the string of jobs she has taken after her arrival 12 years ago, describes her periods of work as a 3, then 11, then 2, and then 3 months of consecutive employment periods in different families before she managed to secure a 3-year long job at an employer who also helped her to legalize her status.

While with each new job she had an increase in salary (mostly due to the fact that she was moving from Naples up North), in each case, she had to pay for a new job amounts ranging between 200 -350 USD. 4.1.3. Rights vs. informal agreements.

In Italy where the nature of care and domestic work implied a more personalized connection to the employer, the ways of solving such issues as working hours, the scope of tasks, days off, the level of payment and the arrangement of social benefits varied greatly from respondent to respondent. While the interviewees seemed to be equally informed about their basic rights and payments (e.g. minimal salary, per diem in case of the live-in workers, yearly premium and termination contact payments), only one of my respondents (a younger woman) resolved to actual legal action against the employer. The rest of the respondents were prompt to selfexploitation in various forms, making their non-confrontational behaviour a symbolic investment into a good relationship with the employer, or a necessary rite of passage in the beginning of the migration.

In the following somewhat more elaborate example, Ljuba (55) narrates about her undocumented stay in Italy. After three years she was promised by her employer to have her contract signed, which would allow her to go home, however, when the documents were ready her employer prohibited Ljuba to leave: …’ You, Ljuba,’- she told me, ‘won’t go home now. My mother has a terminal disease, the doctor said she won’t live long, so you need to stay.’ But how long? No one knew. So I agreed.

And stayed… There is law in Italy, but if you would try to follow the law, you would end up without a job, so you compromise with your employer, even if it’s against the law…anyways, what is this “law”? It’s nothing.

Similarly, after Ljuba's another employer retained 30 per centof her 13th salary payment for three years, she confronted him with this, but as the employer refused to pay Ljuba simply stepped back: … What could I do, go to court with him? I always say, thanks God I have a job, whatever he [employer] gave me is fine. I always compromise, those of our women who try to prove something, there are they are sitting in the park on a bench [unemployed]. I always compromise and they [employers] like people like me.

In another striking testimony of self-justification of the mistreatment, Veronica speaks of a sum of 6000-8000 Euro, which her employer retained in years of her work by not paying the 13th salary, even though she had official employment contract: I have never asked for anything. Look, I have worked in Naples for three and a half years in th one family…I was working legally, had the contract. They didn’t pay me once, neither my 13

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salary, nor “contract termination” payment. All in all there was 6000-8000 Euro that I lost. I never said a word. I told my employer once: “you haven’t paid me.” She said that that they have given me presents and therefore won’t pay me money. I could have gone to the lawyer, the law was on my side, and they would have had to pay me. My daughter said: “We go to the lawyer without your permission.” I told her: “Listen, they go to church every Sunday, they say they are Christians. Legally I had to receive this money, they kept the record, wrote all down that they have paid it, but they didn’t, so I leave it on their consciousness.” I came to a foreign country, it was my own country that robbed me, deprived me of a job [possibility to have a job]. [ In Itay] I am not working in this family, I am helping them. I will not go to court with anyone, I am a Christian… If they give me something [payment] – good, if not, also good… Now, where I work now, we have agreed on a salary and I know that by the law I need to have a day off and an afternoon off per week. They let me out only for 2 afternoons, so I work extra half a day. I don’t demand, I tell myself: “thank you, God, I have 1000 Euro… for Ukraine it’s a lot of money.” Our people sometimes go to court, I cannot do that, it’s not in my nature… there are so many people out of work these days, and comparing to Ukraine I have excellent salary so I never discuss money issues.

In both testimonies above, the mechanism of comparing the lack of opportunities in Ukraine and the prospect of losing an employment in Italy became a strong selfdisciplining principle that allows the interviewees to get over the injustices even though they have legal status that can protect them from such injustices.

Furthermore, both respondents give both law and money a symbolic, if not metaphysical relevance; thus, Veronica portrays her work as “help” and her act of abandoning 6000 Euro as an act of Christian kindness, while Ljuba relies on compromise and consensus, asking an essential question: “what is this “law”, anyways?” This informal approach to work, symbolic investments and docile perspective comes up in another interview excerpt, where my respondent reflects on the nature of her work as a domestic live-in care-giver: … Before me, 7 Filipino workers went through this house. After me, no one will be able to pick up this job. Because we [Ukrainian women] are stupid like that. A Filipino woman is paid to do this and that, and she will do it, but nothing else. And when we are hired to look after an old men, we look after him, but in the meanwhile, “I’ll cook as well” or “I will clean the flat, since I am here”, or “ I will iron the laundry.” You know? Like as if we are at home. And an Italian employer will never hire a woman to whom he has to pay separately for looking after an old men, for cooking and then for ironing. He will only hire a woman like us. This is how we bring down prices for everyone, because we are too desperate (Iryna, 55).

Another widely spread strategy among the domestic workers is informal employment in the free from work time and use of occasionally arising opportunities of some extra earning. In fact, the majority of my respondents in Italy, even those who have permission to stay and work, would practice extra unregistered work along with the main official employment. Ideally, a geriatric-care job would be coupled up with some hours of cleaning or ironing in other people’s homes, undertaken during the breaks. Depending on the individual arrangement, a domestic live-in worker would have free day on Sunday and a free afternoon on Thursday, with additional possible 1-2 hours break every day. These hours would often be used for additional jobs, as some of my respondents stated that they work for as many as six extra families in addition to their full time live-in employment. The tolerance of the main employer to these extra activities was considered a particularly valuable asset, even to the degree that women unhappy with low salary would keep working for such employer “because they allow me to earn on the side”. Moreover, women

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who had no such jobs often expressed regret that they “waste” their time during their breaks (from more detailed discussion see Fedyuk 2011, chapter 7).

4.1.4. Social benefits: balance between paying and using Pension remained the issue of the most insecurity among all the respondents in both Ireland and Italy. Among other factors that complicated the pension issue for my respondents in Itlay were (a) a certain minimum number of years of legal employment (and consequently paid taxes and contributions), which was problematic because many respondents had considerable periods of unregistered employment, (b) practical arrangement of receiving the wages without holding a residence in the country of migration, and lack of bilateral agreements between the migration country and Ukraine about pension payments, (c) constantly changing rules and regulations, which left my respondents with a feeling that this issue is completely out of their control. In relation to Ukraine two main problems linked to the pension were that (a) the amount of pensions was very little, especially in comparison to the migrants’ current earnings and (b) those who started their migration earlier in their lives, lacked any employment status in Ukraine. Those of my respondents who were too young to work in the USSR and consequently never worked in independent Ukraine were doubly disadvantaged; they remained unsure about their pension entitlements in the receiving country and had little prospects beyond a minimum pension in Ukraine. … Pension [in IT]? What pension [ironically]?! For a pension you need 15 years of legal work, all taxes and contributions paid, and around the age 67-68 they will pay this pension. So, what kind of pension is that? What, you expect me to push a walker here in front of me in Italy? Maybe I’ll die by the age of 68. I pay all the taxes and pension contributions, but I am afraid [that I will not receive the pension]. Some people say: ”don’t pay”. But how? If I need to renew my residence permit, and I want to have a permanent residence here. Maybe one day, really I would be able to work 3 months here, 3 months staying at home, if I have that permanent residence (Ljuba, 55, IT, 12 years in Italy).

As the interview above has showed there is a reasonable mistrust among the respondents in the social security benefits and their entitlement to them. Pension and other social contributions are often seen as a way to secure legal status in the country of migration rather than in investment into one’s future. The question of the pension system seems to me one of the most urgent issues of the social support to be solved as it keeps creating a strata of population that will have no entitlements for pension support in any of the countries and therefore will be increasingly dependent on their families. Already now, several respondents in Italy who are approaching retirement age but see no prospects of either receiving pension in Italy or supporting the standard of living created by the remittances on their Ukrainian pensions, remark that they will stay in Italy and work “as long as health would permit.”

My respondents in Italy had very contrasting opinions and a wide range of practices that tapped into the health systems of both countries. Some respondents had very positive experiences with the Italian health system, others, relied completely on the paid Ukrainian services. Those who preferred the Italian system argue that the health system was more humane and provided a very functional system of discounts, which made it incomparably cheaper than using the Ukrainian system, 14

where all medications came at full price and services had to be unofficially paid in an envelope. Many indicated that the very nature of their employment in domestic and care sector does not leave them time to enjoy free health system in Italy: … I pay all my taxes so I have my doctor here [in Italy]. But I don’t go to see a doctor here.

Whenever I have a problem, I wait till vacation, and then do all the check-ups in Ukraine.

Because here, even to make a blood test, you need to go there, leave your old granny [person after whom Ljuba takes care], which means you need to call her children first, ask them to come, and they never have time. So I prefer not to bother them. And in Ukraine, you pay and they will do the full checkup. Or if you have some acquaintances [doctors] or if you don’t some of your family might, so they call the doctor and everything is taken care off. ... Last time I made a whole treatment, I paid and they took such a good care of me [laughs]. Though I am laughing because I had money to pay. But what about those who don’t? (Ljuba, 55, IT)

The informality and the preferential treatment that was enjoyed in Ukraine, who could afford paying for the services, was often quoted as the main advantage of the system. Some interviewees, however, reflected on this practice as morally problematic even by users, as they could not but compare themselves to those who did not have enough income to secure privileged services. …Last summer I had a surgery… nothing too bad, you know, the woman’s thing… I was praying so hard and all went very smooth. Of course, I had to help that, I came to the hospital prepared. I work here in geriatric care, I know things and technologies that our poor hospitals have never seen or heard of. I brought everything with me – clean sheets, shirts, pampers, panty liners for bleeding…everything. And of course I paid for all medication, bondages, food while in hospital, everything. Then I gave immediately 30 Euro to the doctor, to the nurse, so that after the surgery the doctor himself checked if everything is fine… I know that some people prefer to go to the doctors here in Italy, but here you need to pay 30 Euro just for the blood test! What is 30 Euro here? Its nothing! And in Ukraine, ok, I had to pay more, but still, I was treated like a queen! It hurt me though to see some women in my ward who had no money and no one to come take care of them. I had my daughter-in-law coming with homecooked fresh food every day…When I was leaving, I gave some money to the nurse to take better care and to change sheets and shirts for this one old lady, who was there in the ward all alone with not a soul visiting her (Oksana, 56, IT).

This raises an important point raised in some existing literature indicating that migrants tend to deplete the Ukrainian health system. Coupe and Vakhitova (2012) remark that “migrants use social security and health care systems financed from the Ukrainian budget without paying taxes and social contributions in Ukraine” (2012).

While patterns of using the health services varied greatly, all those respondents who made use of it in Ukrainian indicated that they were paying for every medication and operation (officially), as well as gratitude payments to doctors and nurses personnel.

This also held true for the members of their household; whenever there were health problems all other channels of expenditures would be cut down and remittances would be directed in order to get the best, paid treatment. Thus, respondents in my study contributed to the commercialization of medical services in Ukraine and– through their readiness to gratitude payments –to the flourishing of medical profession individuals, often observing the inflation of prices that their capacity to pay has brought to the local medicine and feeling haunted by the fact that they will not have a foreign income to make up the difference someday.

4.2. Republic of Ireland: liminal identities Framed by a different set of limitations and opportunities available within Irish migratory regime, my respondents in Dublin developed very different strategies then 15

their compatriots in Italy. I will now briefly summarise the experience of my respondents in the following collective profile:  Entering the Republic of Ireland either on a British work permit (through Northern Ireland), an Irish work permit (in early 2000s) or on an ID from a NMS (post-2004 and 2007).  In order to access employment – purchase documents from NMS nationals.  Access to health benefits on the basis of “other identity”.  Feeling of guilt and fear for using double identities.  No prospects for transferring earned benefits to their name, to Ukraine, or to regularizing their status at all.  Limited mobility (within the EU) and no mobility outside of the EU.  Effect on family rights and personal lives - no possibility for marriage, divorce, acknowledging parenthood. Limited possibilities for establishing trusting relations with Irish or other non-Ukrainian nationals, colleagues, partners, neighbours.

4.2.1 The cost of initial migration.

Distance, accessibility of the destination country, easiness of crossing the borders are all factors that often reflect in the price for the initial mobility for migrants.

These factors constituted the main difference in price of initial migration to Italy and to the Republic of Ireland. Similarly to Italy, the motivation to migrate particularly to Ireland was justified by most of my respondents either by a presence of a relative in the country or an offer from an intermediary. However, in case of my respondents to the Republic of Ireland, distance and difficulty of crossing the border made difference in both price and the mode of crossing the borders. Moreover, most of the respondents had already family or relatives abroad, which allowed them to tap into their resources in order to make the initial migration step.

My respondents accounted for three main ways to enter the country: on a work permit to the Republic of Ireland, on a UK visa / travel and work-permitting document of a NMS nationals. Only one of my respondents paid no money to the intermediaries for her journey: in 2001 Tanya was recruited to work as a hairdresser through a Ukrainian agency by an Irish employer, who, according to my respondent, has paid all expenses connected to permit, work of the agency and her travel.

Besides this case, a larger part of my respondents entered the Republic of Ireland through the mediation of various types of travel documents obtained from the citizens of the NMS. Eastward expansion of the EU and the Schengen zone in 2004 and 2007 made a great impact not only on the NMS but on the bordering non-EU states. The repositioning of the former in the geopolitical space of the EU stirred border activities which were seen as an opportunity for both non-EU citizens willing to travel and those NMS citizens, willing to turn their new membership into a resource. Thus, through gaining access to the NMS,- which was traditionally more easily obtained than access to the “old” EU countries, - Ukrainian nationals obtained a chance for further unregistered mobility.

Bigger part of my respondents followed the path similar to Petro’s, whose story I turn to now: having a relative of his girlfriend in Ireland, he was prompted to choose this country for migration. Utilizing this connection, he managed to secure a Latvian 16

travel document for 3000 Euro in Ireland, and then, making use of a regular travel agency in Ukraine obtained a Slovakian visa, for another 250 Euro. He then travelled to Slovakia, and from there, continued his journey on a different travel document.

When speaking of his migration he seems unworried and confident – he and his girlfriend are from the family of labour migrants, with Petro’s father has been working in Spain for over 15 years. Petro was confident that one way or another he would go abroad, while the resources for the initial journey were also no obstacle.

Another migration pattern, exemplified by Valya’s migration story, starts with an expensive education: her father who has been working in Russia for over 12 years supported her study in one of the local chapter of a Kyiv-based university of finances and business. In 2006 Valya graduated with a lawyer degree but failed to find a job over the summer following her graduation. The opportunity came through her university professor who for a sum of 4000 USD provided an opportunity for his students to get a work permit in the UK, Ireland, Canada or Australia and work over the summer in agriculture. Paradoxically, Valya even now frames this employment as professional training provided from her University: I was sent to work in the UK by my university. They used to give students a chance to work abroad after graduation, organized for them work permits. (…) It was not really a professional training…but something like that. One of the professors was sending students to work on strawberry fields, he organized work permits for them. I paid 4000 USD for the whole thing and received a 12 month work permit and a contract with a mushroom factory…to pick mushrooms. Just before my contract expired I decided to cross border to Ireland and stay without work permit. My classmate was already there… he said there were plenty of jobs.

Valya seemed to see no contradictions in the fact that her home university, while trains lawyers, sends its students to have “professional training” in strawberry fields for a “modest” sum of 4000 USD. Fresh graduates struggling with practical applications of their expensive degrees are willing to try their chances abroad. An individual professor is hardly suspected of his mediatory position: his recruitment of cheap labour force is masked as professional training, his prices are inflated by the label of the university under which cover he provides his private services and it is unknown if he receives payment from potential labourers only or employers as well.

This case presents an interesting example, when recruiting of cheap labour is happening not only through work and travel agencies but framed as an opportunity provided by a university and operates under its name (if not cover).

To sum up, Irish migration, which is in general younger, reveals other informal network that supports it: many respondents had the social capital, connections and financial resources of their parents’, earned in migration earlier. Additionally, the pattern of Irish original migration adds interesting questions to the role of formal institutions (offices issuing travel documents, or as in case of Valya, a university) as intermediaries and their role in the chain of supply of semi-regular labour force to Ireland.

4.2.2 Access to labour market: access to fragmented regularity Respondents in Ireland demonstrated a wide range of situational arrangements related to employment. The most “unprotected” from a legal perspective was employment in the domestic sector. Thus, two cleaning ladies among my

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interviewees indicated that they worked informally, without any contract, which reflected both on their job security and on their safety networks. In terms of job security, both women indicated that crisis to some degree affected them, especially by means of reducing working hours (but not the amount of work) and of decreasing the frequency of services requested. However, similar to women in Italy employed in this sector, domestic workers in Ireland did not lose jobs or felt a significant economic blow: being able to tap into the informal networks of their clients, domestic workers maintained their most “households” with just a small reduction of hours.

Despite complete informality of their employment, both cleaning ladies invested time and money to obtain some sort of papers, even though these could guarantee them neither social benefits nor access to geographical mobility. Alla, a 25 year old cleaning lady who spend 7 years in Ireland, said that she paid around 3000 Euro for a Latvian travel document to enter the country, which was then confiscated during her attempt to open a work-permitting document: They (officials) simply looked at it and knew it was fake. They said ‘We take this away from you and you should just leave. ‘ When I protested they said that they can give it back to me but in this case they call the police to investigate it. I didn’t protest then. I just left. So I was left with no documents. I later opened a [work-permitting document] on my Ukrainian name, said that Ukraine was a part of EU because of the football championship in 2011 (laughs). But I cannot use it without [a proper] work permit. (…) I wish Ireland would regularize local migrants, those who work here. That would be the right thing to do. This way we could work normally.

When I asked Alla about her feelings after she was dispossessed of her documents she echoed the response of many other respondents: she said she was not afraid of staying without them primarily because she does not think she does anything wrong and secondly, because she believes there is a silent tolerance of people of her status among the Irish authorities: I am not afraid at all, to tell you the truth. I am not doing anything wrong. I simply came here like the others to earn some money, to see the world, to live like a normal human being. I didn’t come to steal or something like that. Plus they [authorities] know that there are many people like us [irregular]. They would have no money to deport us all.

Alla’s comment echoes Alina’s (33 years old) more dignified account of this situation.

Alina has purchased her travel document directly from a Lithuanian citizen who, after trying her luck in Dublin, decided to go back to her home country. To make a bit of extra money, she sold her documents to Alina, whom it gave a chance to try out various levels of semi-skilled jobs. She now works in a coffee shop, where she is known under her Lithuanian name. When I asked Alina, - using the rhetoric of the blaming public discourse, - if she felt she was an illegal immigrant, she replied with dignity: ‘Illegal’ for whom? How do you define that? Ok, maybe I crossed the border without permission once, maybe the border guards can consider me illegal, but ever since I am in Ireland I pay all taxes every day. Ok, I do it under a different name but what does that matter? I pay tax from every cent! I don’t ask anything back. In this sense I think I am more legal than those Irish people who spend all their lives on social benefits never contributing a penny.

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While most of my respondents had no contact with people from whom they had purchased their documents, Alina, is an example of the people who are in direct touch with the rightful owners of such documents. Alina’s story seems to be more complicated for this connection. She speaks with bitterness of injustice with which she experiences her position: For all these years I have been paying taxes and contributing to the pension of this person, who is back at home, can come back and claim these contributions any time. I will never claim them. In the meanwhile, I am not getting younger, and it would be nice to deserve a pension for my contributions. However, my main problem is that the person from whom I got [work permitting documents] is constantly informing me she might come back, or that she feels it is not legal what we do and wants to take back the [documents]. You know, it is like sitting on a ticking bomb. If she does that, I need to find another job, move away from my house where I rent a room with 3 other Irish people and start all over again. (Laughs) Because of her sensitive consciousness I am in permanent threat of having to start my life from zero!

A number of my respondents went to a varying degree of effort to secure some form of legal document on their real name. Thus, several respondents managed to open tax numbers and bank accounts on their “Ukrainian identities.” For none of them it proved useful in terms of actual employment; as a 3rd country nationals they would require a valid work permit to have access to regular jobs. Therefore, they proceed to rely on their purchased documents for actual employment and access to social benefits (mostly health care). When asked why did they chose to register as Ukrainian citizens as well, all of my responded vaguely that “it was good to have it, just in case”, showing a rather symbolic meaning of this registration rather than instrumental usage of it.

Migration policies and regimes, make their tremendous impact on migrant’s, putting people in and out of regularity with new regulations or change of policy directions.

Migrants often fall behind such changes, thus, not really breaking the law, but rather failing to catch up with the changes in the law. Among my respondents, Roman, 41, who first paid 1700 USD to obtain a seasonal work permit in Ireland and has been working ever since used an opportunity that he saw in the regulations of 2003 that allowed him to use his real name for employment. After third country nationals were requested, on top of contracts to have a valid work permit, his documents became insufficient to guarantee him full regularity. After a while, he applied for amnesty but he has been waiting for final decision for three years by the time of our interview. In the meanwhile, Roman is pressed to take up undocumented jobs to support himself and his one and a half years old daughter. Roman claims he is tired of waiting but cannot give it up now because so much time and energy already has been invested into obtaining regularity. However, he claims that as soon as he gets a reply, whether a negative or a positive one, he will leave Ireland to take a break from this country and his most depressing status in it. If he will get his regularization, he will come back, if not, he said he still would not stay any longer.

4.2.3 Social benefits: balance between paying and using Only a small number of my respondents indicated that they made use of their obtained documents to access some benefits. Health and education were two points that came up as a “benefit” that could be claimed. Thus, one of my respondents signed up for a course in a local college, using his Latvian ID, a few others indicated that they have used Irish state hospitals in cases of emergencies. In one outstanding 19

case, Valya, a respondent of 30 who worked at a managerial position in a supermarket, made full use of health service and free days during her pregnancy time, using her Latvian travel and work-permitting document. However, when the time came to give birth, she switched to another hospital and gave birth to her daughter under her real Ukrainian name. This way, Valya felt she justly used her benefits for which she has paid by contributing tax, however, the last moment manoeuvre was necessary, as she was afraid to be separated from her baby by use of fake identity at birth giving. Valya made use of 6 months-long maternity leave from her work (where a note from doctor about her pregnancy was enough) but receives no child benefits as the child was born “on her Ukrainian” documents.

Valya’s example is a good illustration of migrants constant swinging to and from the zones of regular and irregular, in an attempt to create secure nets of support in daily life. Most of the respondents in my interviews, however, made less complicated choices of how to use medical care. Majority, being rather young and fit, indicated that they only made use of dentists’ services, for which they always went to private clinics, in order to obtain the treatment fast. It was a recurring complaint that the Irish public health system is trustworthy but so slow that “you can die while queuing” (Alla), and therefore, it was better to pay and get your problems treated in a more efficient way. In the case of cleaning ladies, both of whom had doctors as clients, utilized their personal connections with these employers to get medical treatment. In one case, however, the clear cut division between private(paid) and public(free) medical services was still recognized better than the obscure, semiformal arrangement of Ukrainian medical system: I could not imagine to live in Ukraine anymore because I am not used to pay for everything even what is free, like health, or business…I cannot any more imagine that even if you call ambulance, you need to pay to get your wound dressed. Or that when I have business someone can come and take it away, or threaten me [like in Ukraine]. I cannot do that anymore. I am not used to this. I need to have my security and stability. (Roman 41)

The last quote is particularly telling that even while many migrants move in grey zones of regularity and are shifting between the wide range of practices located on a regularity-irregularity spectrum majority do strive for more clear and stable position but find no means to obtain it in their migration status. This goes in striking contrast with media portrayal of a migrant who profits from his illegality, and urges for a change of perspective on irregularity offered by Vicki Squire (2011); irregularity is produced not by the migrant’s transgression but by migration policies of the state that often render migrants’ presence irregular.

4.2.4 Navigating liminal identities.

Considering a wide variety and degrees of regularity claimed by my respondents, I made considerable inquiries in the way my interviewees navigated daily life activities and encounters with various circles of people and institutions. While securing documents of a NMS citizen allowed my respondents to access jobs and in some cases health system and education, I wanted to see how my respondents navigate between two identities in their use. While most of my respondents had little contact with Irish or non-immigrant (Ukrainian) community, those who were more integrated revealed a great deal of justification and emotional work that was needed to explain this situation to themselves. Thus, Volodya, (mostly unemployed, 27-year20

old single young men who enjoyed parties, social networks, and was active in organizing international events for local immigrant youth) did not seem to mind his “double identity”: After a while I just started introducing myself with my real name. At first I was worried, tried to memorize the name of the city where I am supposedly from in Latvia. One time even met someone from there… that was awkward… But then I stopped. Even when I start a job I say my real name and usually people don’t have questions. When you work you kind of try to stay low, so that no one sees you…having half a Dublin of acquaintances, like I have, it’s a bit weird when different people call you a different name in the street or at work...you kind of don’t know if you should look up or not.

While Volodya made a conscious decision to always stand by his real name, double identities caused very real institutional obstacles in personal lives of my other respondents. Thus, Roman and Valya, respondents in my sample, have met and started dating in Ireland. While their relationship was growing serious and they considered marriage they checked their options with the Ukrainian embassy. The Embassy denied them the marriage based on the fact that Roman’s Ukrainian passport was expired and since he had no valid documents for staying in Ireland, they could not issue him a new passport. The couple then resolved to have a child without marriage, a sensitive issue with the families of both of them. In other case, Alina, who initially migrated with her husband, after four years of migration found their marriage at an end. Her husband consequently went back to Ukraine, while Alina made a decision to stay in Ireland. She laments that she cannot divorce her husband from Ireland, as she has no rights to be there in the first place. The situation became very complicated for her since she cannot claim the division of their property in Ukraine, where without a divorce her husband can make claims on all the property into which they invested earnings from all the years in migration.

Similarly, Alina did not find it easy to carry on with her life as a single woman with her “double identity.” She shares a house with two Irish housemates, who know her, just as her employer, by her Lithuanian name, as her ID was necessary for signing the contract. What Alina thought was just a formality made her go through a serious personal trauma, when she started dating a man she met while being out with her housemates: We met with my boyfriend when we were out all together with my roommates, in a bar. At first our relationship was not serious at all but after a few months I felt that I am getting too attached but I felt so guilty that I haven’t told him my real name. Its just so difficult, where do you start to say this? “Hi, this is not my real name my real name is this but there is nothing wrong with it”? You know what I mean? He will think I am some kind of criminal! How can I explain to him that there is nothing wrong in it? That it is just the way things are done?

Finally, the more I was postponing saying it the less possible it becomes to ever mention it.

As these cases show, while migrants can chose to have different types of attitude towards their “double identity” such duality does have most serious consequences not only on their sense of confidence but on the course of their personal lives, family rights as well as opportunities to overcome their irregularity.

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5. Concluding discussion: linking findings to theoretical perspectives.

Due to its ethnographic focus this study managed to capture the experience of those, who due to various degrees of irregularity of their status remain invisible to other forms of surveying (e.g. Ukrainian live-in domestic workers in Italy or migrants in Ireland working under other’s names). Dwelling upon the experience of migrants in states of the so-called “liminal legality” (Menjivar 2006) clearly demonstrated that while they all managed to cross the physical borders of their host countries, multiple internal borders continue to define everyday aspect of their lives, especially in connection to access to labour market, social benefits, mobility and family rights.

Interviews in this study pointed to fragmentation of migrants’ rights depending on the degree of regularity of their statuses.

Exploring the effects of various degrees of regularity on migrants’ inclusion and exclusion mostly in the receiving countries, I probed the state’s “reluctant reliance on immigrant labour” (Van Hooren 2011), its subtle production of irregularity of migrants through establishing policing and exclusionary migration regimes (Squire 2011, DeGenova 2011). Behind all this, as points out De Genova “large scale recruitment of illegalized migrants as legally vulnerable, precarious and thus tractable labour (2011), a facto economic incorporation of irregular immigrant labour into the states’ economies by means of bureaucratic procedures of relaxing or enforcing certain policing practices (Burawoy 1976).

Responding to these differentiated opportunities, migrants choose situational practices, which allow them to circumvent the limitations of status and enter into partial relationship with the state, often based on their own contribution to the labour market and welfare. Such strategies, were conceptualized by some authors as “acts of citizenship” (Isin and Nielsen, 2008) render migrants as perfect subjects of neoliberal citizenship, i.e. “self-made” (we)men claiming their rights with the receiving states on the basis of their contributions to it (Deneva 2013). My interviews confirm this last view particularly strongly through the symbolic approach to regularity: obtaining various forms of long-term residence permits was often seen by my respondents as an ultimate goal of stay in the country, justifying their work under the satisfactory conditions of living and work and family separation. Often respondents did not identify specific goals that obtaining such documents would guarantee them or the prospects it would open, except for a general sense of “securing a future.”

As in the case with regular status, paying formal welfare contributions were often invested with vague and symbolic meaning of serving as an insurance against expulsion from the country. Even without the clear and comprehensive idea of how to claim benefits and if they can be claimed at all, most of my respondents continued to pay the former (both in case of care-workers in Italy or even more so, in Irish cases, where the contributions were paid under a different name) as a way of (a) proving a good will in case of future openings for legalization, (b)staying “legal” in their own consciousness or (c) as a way to claim their “usefulness” if they would need to defend their case in case of deportation, etc. The value of legal status, thus, transcend its original form of a “right” that is given for free to all those who comply with regulations and norms, and turns into both a social capital and an item worth monetary investments.

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However, fragmentation of migrants’ citizenship is felt not only through advantages (access to labour market in the receiving country, access to health system, education, etc) but through falling through the rights and benefits system available in both Ukraine and the countries of migration destination. This is particularly visible in case of failure to secure and receive pensions or transfer individual occupational skills into meaningful employment from one country to another. These obstacles aggravate the personal price of migration, turning it often into “lost years” in terms of occupational trajectories or social benefits. Thus, migrants are often left to themselves to secure their old age, periods of unemployment and health problems.

Thus, my research confirms the available statistics that immigrants are significantly less likely to receive welfare benefits than the natives4 (Barrett et al 2011). Welfare contributions, thus, often serve for migrants as symbolic ways of justifying their irregular status (as presence or work in the receiving country), thus setting a nonsymbolic, monetary price for an ephemeral hope of justifying their presence in the receiving country.

The patterns of uncertain regularity often lead to mobility obstructions, tremendous complications in family communications and reunifications, and obstacles in personal lives of individuals. The case of generally older female migrants to Italy, despite the elaborate care-chains that allowed to some extent to make up for the absence of mothers and grandmothers from the households, has led to a major national blaming discourse directed against migrating women in Ukraine (Vianello 2013, Fedyuk 2012, Solari 2006, Volodko 2011). Some reflection of this discourse can be seen in the terms like “ATM mothers” and “euro-orphans” used in wide scope of Ukrainian media to reflect perceived corruption of values and morality in families, particularly with female migrants. In case of generally younger migrants to Ireland, my interviews have indicated that using double names or IDs often create situations in which spontaneous relations outside of migrants’ circles become impossible, due to fear to appear criminal and illegal. Double IDs also illuminate the impossibility of divorce or marriage in migration, and can lead to serious complications in case of giving birth and further mobility of the family.

The two distinct migratory regimes of Ireland (work-permit visa) and Italy (regularization of those present in the country’s labour force) provided the most influential impact of the difference in the migratory practices and strategies of my respondents, who have created situational practical solutions in response to the systematic impediments. As I have demonstrated in my study, the cost of these solutions often becomes a heavy burden for individual migrants and their families, while the state’s neglect of the consequences of their policies further enhance dependence and vulnerability of people.

4Barret et al (2011: 6): Building their research on the EU-SILC database for Ireland in 2007, the authors

indicate that while about 27.5 % of natives received some payments linked to unemployment or disabilities, only 16.7 % of immigrant did so. The family benefits, however, had only insignificant difference: while 50.1% of natives received some family benefits 54.5 % of immigrants did.

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Annex 1.

Summary table of the differences between migratory flows to Italy and the Republic of Ireland Countries Numbers Percent of total migrant population: Average age Gender composition: Dominant labor market sectors

National legal framework (in relation to migration)

Historical reference

Italy * data for 2011 218.099 residence permit holders

Republic of Ireland** data for 2009 13 thousandwork permit holders

6 % (5 largest migrant group)

insignificant, even for the % among rd the 3 country nationals

mean age 42

between 19-40

20% men , 80% women

55 % men, 45% women

th

* social and family services – approx 70% * commerce * construction (for men) * agriculture * work permit are central to the stay permit * from 2000 – planned flow system or on call system

* 2002 and 2009 – amnesties for all migrants who have work contract

construction – about 80 % household service (cleaning) farm work work permit are central to the stay permit from 2003-4 end of regulation allowing regularization of the those migrants whose children were born in Ireland ***2013: a list of ineligible categories of work for work permits, including most unskilled and semiskilled occupations

* in 2010 Ukrainians appear for the first time as having a national quota in the regularization process.

***work permits form jobs with 30 000 Euro minimum salary

Ukraine and Italy have no historical connection in migration area. Some authors suggest that Ukrainians started arriving in Naples due to its connections with Odessa port, others, suggest that Ukrainian women followed the tracks of Polish care-workers who started doing domestic work in Italy after 1989 (Vianello 2009).

Ukraine has hardly any significant historical connection to the Republic of Ireland. The first wave of contemporary labor migration started in 1990s. The number of work permits started dropping after 2004 and reached very low point by 2008.

* Vianello F. A. (2009), Migrando sole. Legami transnazionali tra Ucraina e Italia, Milano, Franco Angeli. ** Markov, Ihor, Oksana Ivankova-Stetsyuk and Hryhorij Seleshchuk (2009), Ukrainian Labour Migration in Europe. / Findings of the Complex Research of Ukrainian Labour Immigration Processes. Edited by І. Markov. Lviv: Caritas. *** Citizenship Information Board. http://www.citizensinformation.ie/en/employment/migrant_workers/employment_permits/work_perm its.html

27

28

Annex 2.Findings summery table Italy: an aging care- worker -

-

-

-

-

-

-

Entering Italy on a tourist visa to other EU states and overstaying the visit.

2-5 years in irregular employment, reluctant to change the original employer in hope that the latter might regularize them (agreeing on less money, more work, harsher conditions).

Women are more likely to get regularized then men, as men work in construction sites and less regular jobs that do not lead to establishing close connection to the employer.

After regularizing their status for the first time, the need to renew residence permits every 1-3 years for at least 5 years. The renewal of the papers was often delayeddue to some bureaucratic drag, forcing respondents to postpone their visits home or switching to a better job.

Preferring to stay with employers who can secure renewal of the documents, even in cases of underpayments, extra work and lack of lawful free time.

Due to personalized nature of care work most respondents preferred not to solve tax, regularization or payment contested issues via legal means, but through negotiation and avoiding conflict.

Often prefer to use health services during their visits to Ukraine, even if entitled to health benefits in Italy. Due to the nature of care work many have little or no opportunity to leave the person in care to attend hospitals or schedule long-awaited appointments. In Ukraine, they rely on informally paid services that are quick and personalized.

No bilateral agreements exist between Ukraine and Italy concerning pension systems; a care-giver is eligible for a pension payment in Italy after 15 years of regularized work, which in case of Ukrainian migrants has 2 problems: (1) many migrants spend several years in irregular employment, which are “lost years” form the social benefits perspective, (2) due to the particular demographic profile of Ukrainian care-givers in Italy (i.e. over 40) many quit due to age and hardships of the occupation before they reach the required 15 years of regularized occupation.

Ireland: liminal identities -

-

-

-

Entering Republic of Ireland either on a British work permit (through Northern Ireland), Irish work permit (in early 2000s) or on an ID from a NMS. In order to access employment – purchase of work-permitting and travel documents from NMS nationals.

Access to health benefits on the basis of “other identity”.

Feeling of guilt and fear for using double identities.

No prospects for transferring earned benefits to their name, to Ukraine or to regularizing their status at all.

Limited mobility (within the EU) and no mobility outside of the EU. Effect on family rights and personal lives - no possibility for marriage, divorce, acknowledging parenthood. Limited possibilities for establishing trusting relations with Irish or other nationals colleagues, partners, neighbours.

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Annex 3.

Respondents in the Republic of Ireland*

Name

Age

Family status

Since when in Ireland

Regularity status

Education / job history in Ukraine

Work in Ireland

Manager at a plant until 1990, after that - work in a number of private companies, after thatunemployment and occasional work at a local market.

Cleaning lady.

Unemployed.

Coffee-shop, salesperson, bartender.

Ksenija

52

divorced

2000

Volodya

27

single

2006

Originally had a work permit issued in Kyiv (though the permit was valid upon arrival no promised jobs were provided though). After 4 years ran out of visa and permit.

Has no documents.

Latvian travel and work-permitting document. Has a tax number on his real name but cannot use it as he has no work permit.

Alina

32

married, separated

2006

Lithuanian travel and workpermitting document.

High school in Ukraine, some trainings in Ireland.

MA in linguistics, worked for several years as a teaching assistant in a university.

Oleh

42

married, separated

2006

Polish travel documents.

High school, many years of migration experience to Poland.

Returned to Ukraine, unemployed.

Olexiy

41

2008

Postdoctoral position.

25

High-school in Ukraine.

Cleaning lady.

Petro

25

Unmarrie d, has a Ukrainian partner

2006

High-school in Ukraine.

These days - paints the walls.

Sasha

30

single

2011

High-skilled employee.

Latvian travel documents. Has a tax number on her name but does not use it because she has no work permit. No other documents.

Latvian travel documents (confiscated), Ukrainian passport, bank account on Ukrainian name, new Latvian travel and workpermitting documents, Ukrainian tax number (doesn't use) Entered on a tourist visa. Now has official work permit for which he paid his employer.

MA degree.

Alla

married, 2 children Unmarrie d, has a Ukrainian partner

College degree in Finances.

Worked as a night guard.

Gardener.

2003

Entered due to reunification of the family, then changed to student status, then to work permit, after 6 years to permanent residence, which he renewed once a year and now 3 times per year.

Olexandr

27

married, 2 children

2006

41

unmarrie d, has a child

2003

Valya

30

unmarrie d, has a child

2007

Entered on a seasonal work permit for Ireland. Has his own tax number but no work permit.

Applied for amnesty, waiting for a decision for more than 3 years.

Entered on a seasonal work visa for the UK (after a year in UK) through Belfast. Soon after bought a Latvian travel and workpermitting documents.

Tanya

44

divorced, has a child

2001

Entered on a work permit. Now has Irish citizenship.

Roman

School in Ukraine and lyceum in Moldova. Studied in Limerick computer science.

College degree, worked as a driver.

After 1991 has migration experience to Poland.

University degree. Lawyer.

Hairdresser vocational training.

Taught in her vocational school after graduation.

Worked in IT multinational corporation, had a private translation business and was unemployed for half a year.

Worked in agriculture, construction, even hired his 2 helpers for a while. After crisis went back to agriculture, and now delivers leaflets and advertising.

Manager at a supermarket.

Hairdresser salon manger.

* all names have been changed to maintain anonymity. “Travel and work-permitting documents”, as well as “tax number” is used instead of the specific names of the documents to protect the respondents by concealing their specific practices.

30

Annex 4.

Respondents Respondents in Italy Name *

Oksana

Hanna

Age

Family status

Since when in Italy

Regularity status

56

Married in Ukraine, 3 children (all married), 4 grandchildren

15 years

Permanent residence

70

Married in Ukraine, 2 children, grandchildren, and 3 great-grandchildren

7 years

Illegal

Education / job history in Ukraine Vocational school (food and catering). All life worked in her trade (until 1996).

Vocational training, (book-keeper). Worked as a head of a storage of a small alcohol production line. Retired due to reaching retirement age in 1997. *Education level unknown. Worked for 10 years as a worker in a coalmine. Later 15 years as an engineer and a head of a brigade in the same mine.

University degree in engineering. For 19 years worked as a master technician in a plant.

52

Widow, 2 adult sons (one of whom is special needs)

Iryna

55

Married in Ukraine, adult daughter, 2 grandchildren

Vasyl

50

Married in Ukraine, 4 children,

4 years

Illegal

47

Separated from her husband, 3 adult children

7 years

Romanian passport

University degree. Priest of UGCC. University degree, economist. 12 years of work experience in a construction company, (book-keeper).

33

Got married to an Englishman, but got separated 2 years ago. Keeps no contact with him.

7 years

Long-term residence permit

*Education unknown.

Work experience- none

Lilia

39

Separated, has 20year old daughter

8 years

Entrepreneurial license

Veronica

60

Widow, has 2 adult married sons

5 years

Long-term residence

Ljuba

55

Widow, 2 children and 3 grandchildren

12 years

Long-term residence

Katia

Zhanna

Vira

Entrepreneurial license

10 years

12

Permanent residence

Vocational training (geodesist). Work experience- none.

Vocational training school. For 8 years worked in a factory, later in a laundry Vocational training school (cook). Never worked in her field.

Worked periodically as a hospital nurse.

Work in Italy

Geriatric care (live-in worker), cleaning houses

Geriatric care (domestic live-in worker)

Owns her private cleaning company, provides cleaning services for pools, offices, enterprises

Geriatric care (live-in worker), cleaning houses

Unemployed

Geriatric care (domestic live-in worker)

Baby-sitter, cleaning

Owns a clothes shop

Geriatric care (domestic live-in worker)

Geriatric care (domestic live-in worker)

* all names have been changed to maintain anonymity

31