What Brexit means for me

I am still reeling from the shock of Brexit but now feel the need to put some thoughts and feelings into words.

The referendum was always going to be a close call, but deep down I was certain that at the end of the day if not the sense of collective responsibility then pragmatism and the spirit of self-preservation would prevail.

Tragically, that was not to be the case.

And my anger and frustration have only been compounded by the fact that, as a British citizen who has been non UK-resident for more than 15 years, I could have no say in the result.

My initial reaction was one of bitter disappointment and a profound sense of betrayal.

Betrayal by the very country and people that first shaped my sense of what it means to be European.

I went on my first school trip to Europe – Italy, in fact – at the tender age of ten, but only after family holidays to Greece, Portugal and, most significantly, Berlin.

That was in 1985, four years before the Wall came down.

During our trip we were able to cross from West to East via Checkpoint Charlie and visit the museum there. The stories of the fugitives who risked – and often lost – their lives to escape from East Berlin made a huge impression on me, instilling an early sense of the values of freedom and justice that are at the heart of the albeit profoundly flawed European project.

Other holidays and school exchange visits to numerous European countries followed.

Then in my post-school gap year I spent four months working as an au pair in France before going on to read two European languages – French and Italian – at university and spending the third year of my degree course working as an English language assistant at a state secondary school in Rome.

All this would have been more difficult – and in some cases impossible – if Britain had not been a member of the European Union.

And so on Friday morning it felt as if the rug had been pulled from under my feet.

It was as if suddenly I was being told that my world view – the world view that Britain helped to foster – and the choices that I have made on the basis of that view – including the decision to make my life in another European country – were no longer acceptable or valid.

It didn’t help my sense of disorientation to learn that one of the people most instrumental in shaping my education voted Leave.

I ask you, what was the point of it all?

Much attention has been given by the Italian media to the effects of Brexit on Italians living in the UK. But what about Britons living here, or in other EU member states? When the UK eventually disentangles itself from the EU we will presumably lose our European citizenship rights and hence also the legal basis for being here or elsewhere – unless, that is, we are already also citizens of our ‘adopted’ EU countries.

That is a destabilising prospect.

Before Brexit I found that my British and European identities sat comfortably together, but now that Britain has voted to leave the EU the feelings has changed.

Suddenly those identities have come into collision course and over the coming months and years I anticipate a conflict of loyalties that may be difficult and painful to negotiate.

Sooner or later I may have to make a choice.

But perhaps in applying for Italian citizenship earlier this year I was already making one without fully realising it.

With any luck I should be awarded Italian citizenship and fully restored to my European identity by early 2018, before Britain goes drifting off into the Atlantic.

 

Becoming an Italian citizen / 6

Today has been by far the most disheartening day so far on my road to Italian citizenship.

Shortly after filing my on-line application in February I received a summons (see photo) from the interior ministry to present the original copy of my birth certificate and sworn translation for verification at the Rome prefecture between 9 am and 11.30 am this morning.

I breezed in at 9.20 am assuming it would take only a few minutes, only to leave over two and a half hours later with an appointment to return next week to present ‘missing’ documentation.

The trouble started before I had even reached the citizenship office on the first floor of the labyrinthine building on Via Ostiense.

I stepped out of the lift to find myself in a long, low-ceilinged and untidy corridor containing two lines of people, one for the citizenship office and the other for immigration.

The queues were being ‘policed’ by a badly dressed and extremely unpleasant man in his late 30s who I later discovered to be a plainclothes policeman. He was wearing trousers that were too tight and too short, sneakers and no socks (it was Fabrizio Gatti in his journalistic masterpiece Bilal who alerted me to the importance of checking for socks) and he was treating the citizenship applicants – particularly the non-European ones – with shameful disrespect.

He handed me a number and directed me to a packed, windowless room at the end of the corridor, where I sat down to wait; there was not the usual digital display unit showing the turn being called, but rather the clerks came out of the office in person to bark out the numbers above the din.

An hour and a half and about 15 numbers into the wait I learned that I would be required to present a print copy of the completed on-line application form for signing before the clerk.

There had been no mention of this in the summons, which said the only document I needed to present was my birth certificate. Looking around, however, I noticed that the walls of the waiting room were plastered with hand-written notices informing applicants of this additional requirement – a bit late for those of us who had already arrived.

I quickly learned that there is a place just down the road that does a roaring trade in last-minute print-outs for €5 a shot. However, I failed to register the directions and ended up in the nearby drama faculty of Roma Tre university, where I asked a friendly-looking student if I could have access to a computer and printer. Mercifully, he said yes. At that point I was able to log on to the interior ministry website and print out the required form…. Half an hour later I was back in the queue with still three numbers to go.

When I eventually took my seat before a standoffish young clerk another problem arose: my ID. I was carrying my British passport, which I have just had renewed and which consequently did not match the copy of the passport I submitted with my application. Signora, lei ha una fotocopia del nuovo documento? No, I didn’t. Thankfully the clerk took pity on me and made a copy himself.

He then asked to see all the supporting documentation – not just my birth certificate, but also my police certificate, €16 tax stamp and receipt of payment of the €200 application fee. This I didn’t have, since I made the payment on line and converted the receipt directly into a pdf file for upload without also printing a copy.

Moral of the story: make sure you take a copy of everything to the prefecture, over and above what you think you need to present.

This ‘oversight’ cost me an entire morning as I now have to go back to the prefecture next Tuesday to present the ‘missing’ documentation. The clerk made a point of telling me he was meeting me halfway by giving me this ‘chance’.

However, it is not so much the time wasted as the total lack of respect for applicants that so upset me; lack of respect shown by the failure to provide correct and complete information on what documentation would be required, in the full knowledge that many applicants travel from outside Rome and so that to make a return journey would be both time-consuming and costly; but also by the scornful arrogance of the prefecture staff who clearly see what applicants consider to be a right as little more than a bureaucratic concession, to be issued on a whim. It was frustrating and humiliating to be treated in that way and it was even more frustrating and angering to see other future Italian citizens from non-European countries being treated even worse simply – dare I say it – because of the colour of their skin.

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Becoming an Italian citizen / 5

The Sportello Amico at my local post office wasn’t as ‘friendly’ as I’d hoped; the clerk on duty told me the service is not set up to dispense residency histories, and that in any case he had never managed to extract a certificate of any nature from the system.

So there was nothing for it but to jump in the car and head into Rome, to the registry office of the municipio where I was last resident. There I queued for just under an hour, and in the end I got what I needed.

At that point, completing the application was child’s play. I did get it in by lunchtime, after all.

It now remains to be seen how long the prefecture takes to process the request. By law it has a maximum of 730 days to accept or reject my application, after which I can claim my entitlement before a judge. But I trust it will not come to that.

Becoming an Italian citizen / 4

On Friday I collected my sworn translations (traduzioni giurate – apparently the only acceptable level of legalisation for citizenship applications in Italy) from an agency that curiously specialises in translations from Romanian to Italian, for the modest sum of €135,70… and so I was all set to make the on-line application – or so I thought!

I logged into the Department of Civil Liberties and Immigration (DLCI) section of the interior ministry website and clicked on Cittadinanza and then Compila e invia domanda in the left-hand menu bar.

I immediately ran into the first problem: deciding the grounds for my application, residency or marriage to an Italian.

By law as an EU citizen resident in Italy for at least four years (in my case 17) and married to an Italian for at least two I could have gone for either option, although I felt applying on grounds of residency (so-called ‘naturalisation’) better reflected the personal journey that has brought me to this point in the first place.

However, in the end pragmatism carried the day: citizenship through marriage is considered a right providing certain conditions are met, while ‘naturalisation’ is granted on a discretionary basis, so I plumped for the first option, reckoning it would be the quickest and easiest way to go.

And thank goodness I did: after clicking on the relevant application form I discovered that I would ‘only’ have to go through 17 steps, rather than 23!

However, it soon became clear that I would have to provide a lot more information than had been specified in the introductory section on the ministry website. Specifically, I was expected to give a full residency history, including dates, from the age of 14, and also my migration history with respect to Italy, including the details of my very old and fading green permesso di soggiorno (which I applied for in 1998 and had renewed indefinitely in 2003, and which miraculously I still have).

At step 15 I was asked to provide the details of a marca da bollo telematico (official revenue stamp) which had only been given passing mention in the introductory blurb, and which I had naively assumed to be the €200 application fee (see Becoming an Italian citizen / 1) – but no! The instructions manual that accompanies the on-line application form shed no light on the problem, and it was only by searching on internet that I discovered I also needed to buy a separate revenue stamp for €16.

At that point I gave up in frustration.

The following morning I went to the Monterotondo registry office to see if I could access my residency history for Italy. I naively hoped my local public administration might ‘talk’ to the one in Rome, where I was resident at no fewer than three (possibly five – who can remember?) different addresses over the course of 11 years. Of course it does not. The clerk told me smugly that he could give me the information for Monterotondo, but that for my Rome residency history I would have to go to the central registry office in Rome. Ugh.

So I then set about exploring the possibility of accessing the information on-line, via the Roma Capitale website. Having established that residency history is indeed among the certificates available on internet I applied for the official credentials needed to log into the system, only then to discover that the service is available exclusively to people who are resident in Rome.

Not to be fazed (17 years in Italy must surely count for something!), I called Poste italiane to see if their Sportello Amico service designed to simplify dealings with the public administration might provide such a certificate. Apparently, it does!

So tomorrow I will go to the post office first thing in a final bid to avoid the traipse into Rome.

If I am successful, I may even get my application in by lunchtime!

My only consolation is that had I made the application on grounds of naturalisation I would also have had to provide a record of my declared personal income and that of my husband for the last three years, as well as details of property ownership in Italy and the UK.

For Becoming an Italian citizen / 1 click here

For Becoming an Italian citizen / 2 click here

For Becoming an Italian citizen / 3 click here

Becoming an Italian citizen / 3

Amazing!

My legalized birth certificate and police certificate were delivered by DHL courier at 12.21 today.

Next step: to have the documents translated into Italian and the translations legalized via an agency in Rome

(There is still a doubt in my mind about the level of legalization I need; on the interior ministry website it says ‘traduzione legalizzata’,  while the translation agency insists that I need a ‘traduzione giurata’, and says they aren’t the same thing. I’ll have to sort it out when I take the documents in…)

It remains to be seen whether the Italian civil service will be as efficient as the civil service in the UK.

Certainly in the process of gathering the documents needed to apply for Italian citizenship I have been at a big advantage compared to people who come from countries where the civil service functions less well.

For Becoming an Italian citizen / 1 click here

For Becoming an Italian citizen / 2 click here

New murderous attacks against women rock Italy

There seems to be no let-up in the litany of murderous violence in Italy perpetrated against women by their current or former partners. Three horrible incidents in less than two days. One woman, 38, is fighting for her life in a Naples burns unit after being set fire to by her partner outside their Pozzuoli home. The couple’s child, delivered at 34 weeks by C-section after the woman was admitted to hospital on Monday, is reportedly doing OK. In Catania a 41-year-old woman was strangled by her ex after a row allegedly over the management of their four-year-old son. And in Brescia a woman, 56, was stabbed to death by her husband, reportedly also after a fight. The man then killed himself by deliberately driving the wrong way down a motorway.

Here is the link to my round-up for Ansa

Becoming an Italian citizen / 2

My police certificate arrived by post on Friday, exactly 18 days after I made the on-line application to the ACRO criminal records office in the first step towards becoming an Italian citizen (see Becoming an Italian citizen / 1).

Much to my relief the certificate did carry an official signature of sorts, so I was able to proceed with the next step of having this document and my birth certificate legalised.

This involved sending the two certificates together with a completed legalisation application form (downloadable from the gov.uk website), a blank A4-sized envelope and confirmation of payment (£30 per document plus £14.50 to have the documents returned by courier) to the Legalisation Office of the Foreign and Commonwealth Office in Milton Keynes.

The documents went into the post this morning and the application should take 48 hours to process, so with any luck I should have them safely back by early next week.

In the meantime I now need to investigate appropriate certified translation services in readiness for the third step towards becoming an Italian citizen.

For Becoming an Italian citizen / 1 click here

For Becoming an Italian citizen / 3 click here

 

Una scialuppa in mezzo al mare, ovvero l’accoglienza dei profughi a Monterotondo

IMG_0682So che il Natale è finito da un pezzo, ma nella chiesa di Gesu Operaio a Monterotondo è rimasto un presepe che ho scoperto solo oggi, e che desidero condividere con i miei lettori.

L’allestimento progettato e realizzato da Franco Iannelli s’incentra sul tema dell’accoglienza dei profughi in arrivo dal mare.

Invece della tradizionale capanna, la sacra famiglia è sistemata in una scialuppa in mezzo al mare, con Giuseppe che tende la mano verso due profughi aggrappati al bordo. Uno di loro tiene in braccio un bambino in fasce che allunga verso la barca, per metterlo in salvo. Sullo sfondo, ‘l’isola della speranza’, un paesaggio povero ma lindo, con le case illuminate da dentro e le porte spalancate e con le persone che sono in attesa di ricevere i nuovi arrivati.

E noi?

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