TY - JOUR
AU - Shachar,, Ayelet
AB - Disruptive innovation is in vogue. Think the iPhone, the personal computer, or, in earlier days, the Model T Ford automobile. These disruptive innovations have upended older practices and demands, unlocking new sources of change (and desire) by offering what management guru Clayton Christensen of Harvard Business School calls a “different package of attributes [initially] valued only in emerging markets remote from, and unimportant to, the mainstream.”1 The disruptive in disruptive innovation refers to the ability of these innovations by agents of change to rapidly and dramatically reshape the mainstream in their own image. Families have been innovating, too, enacting new relations and structures of family life as they cross borders and test settled expectations. A central theme advanced by Daphna Hacker’s Legalized Families in the Era of Bordered Globalization is that the law—understood broadly to encompass multiple fields and layers of regulation derived from overlapping or competing sources of authority and identity—is an active, although often invisible, partner in the life of families. It partakes in shaping, enabling, prohibiting, or simply complicating certain practices of their members’ cross-border, transnational, or multinational lived experience. A core motivation that undergirds the book is to make visible the significance of law as a “family-shaping border.”2 To that end, Hacker adopts a “panoramic and contextual analysis of the impact of bordered globalization on families.”3 The book does so marvelously by crossing jurisdictional and disciplinary boundaries as it traces the impact of multiple sources and layers of law on family members. At the same time, the book emphasizes the ability of individuals to reshape and reimagine the familial units to which they belong through their own action: by forming, enlarging, redesigning, and reinterpreting their familial relations in defiance of preexisting norms and expectations. Reading this book can be a dizzying experience. The author presents examples from across the globe, and explores family life in its multiplicity of dimensions: marriage, reproduction, abortion, child nutrition, domestic violence, old age, cross-border movement and citizenship are discussed within the book’s ambitious ambit. Hacker fully acknowledges this abundance of riches. She directs the following comment to those who have braved the experience, stating that “[i]t is my hope that those of you who have read the whole book have been left somewhat overwhelmed. This is deliberate, because one of my goals is to highlight the challenges of empirically and theoretically understanding bordered globalization and professionally assisting families affected by it.” (p. 321). Following the lead of legal feminists such as Robin West, Legalized Families attempts to go beyond the question of “what the law is” to a higher order query of “what the law should be” (p. 13). I will argue that while the book does an impressive job at addressing the first question, it leaves the reader only half satisfied in responding to the second question. In this essay, I will begin to imagine what kind of reconstructive alternatives can be offered in response to the daunting challenges identified in Legalized Families. I will then focus further on the topic of citizenship and membership, to explore whether the claims of cross-border, inter- and transnational families meet the test of disruptive innovation. But before we get to this assessment, I would like to emphasize the manifold patterns, tensions, and contradictions captured in the book’s rich tapestry. No script to follow The book highlights the new constellations and challenges faced by families composed of members who engage, or seek to engage, in mobility in an era in which seemingly contradictory processes of globalization and bordering occur simultaneously. Such transnational families appear, almost by default, to offer a disruptive innovation as they rebel against predefined religious, cultural, sexual, and national borders. Lacking a script to follow, they create new hybrids or hitherto nonexistent forms and practices of “parenthood, kinship and marriage” (p. 2). This may include experimentations, such as the creation of multi-parent LGBT families (in Canada, a newborn child can now legally acquire four parents through preconception contracts signed by the baby’s future parents);4 families that are united in the virtual dimension but separated in the physical world (pp. 1–4); couples that are “living apart together” in different parts of the world (p. 2); or “left-behind” children (p. 9) who are raised by grandparents or other relatives while their parents work abroad in richer countries to provide for their immediate or expanded families. Hacker is no Pollyanna. Her analysis is the sharpest when it unsettles. She powerfully illustrates, for example, how novel reproductive technologies that permit, “[f]or the first time in human history,” the production of babies “born from sperm produced in one country and an ovum retrieved in another country, which are then transplanted as an embryo into a woman from a third country” (pp. 8–9), frequently rely on a multibillion dollar surrogate industry in the global south. Private clinics and intermediaries benefit handsomely from these arrangements, while the risk—social, medical, psychological—is passed on to surrogate mothers whose “consent” is presumably manufactured through signing documents in a foreign language they do not comprehend, especially if they are illiterate (pp. 136–44). Applying the lens of disruptive innovation, one is struck by the incredible human ingenuity of trying to “play God” in creating babies. At the same time, it is impossible to miss the persistence of patterns of gendered, racialized, and socioeconomic inequalities that operate across class and status division lines. This tension between disruption and continuity, loopholes and shackles, runs throughout the book. Beyond relativism and universalism By highlighting the contexts in which families are created and dissolved, and by carefully taking into account intersectional power relations, Hacker’s analysis operates squarely within the law and society intellectual movement (p. 65). This may help explain why she resists adopting overarching responses to the challenges she elegantly documents. While sensitive to the “centrality of culture to nations, societies, and communities, and the centrality of the family institution to cultures” (p. 319), she refrains from adopting a relativist approach that abstains from any moral judgment or regulatory attempt to define families or set baseline limits on the behavior that family members may engage in toward each other, or in relation to third parties, or their (multiple) countries of affiliation. While emphasizing that “there is no global moral or normative consensus on what a family is and how family members should be treated by one another, by the country of their nationality, and by other countries” (p. 4), the book can be read as offering a strong set of normative priorities: it is against domestic violence, pro-children’s rights, and in favor of a broad interpretation of diversity and autonomy in the family life that people fashion for themselves across borders, be they local or global, religious or civic. Rejecting relativism is only part of the story of Legalized Families. The complementary side is a suspicion of universalist approaches that seek to harmonize, unify, or better coordinate legal rules and social practices. Thus, Hacker flatly rejects what sometimes appears to be the fantasy of international (and other) lawyers who search for new ways to render the law more consistent in lieu of today’s manifest fragmentation and discord. In line with her contextualist approach, Hacker avoids offering an overarching theoretical framework to “re-organize” the family in the age of bordered globalization. Instead, she uses vivid examples of various family formulations. These illustrate, through practice, that in today’s world there is no agreed upon “script” of what the family is or should be (p. 73).5 The implied message is that we should give up on any attempt to find unifying frameworks. This double rejection—of the universalist and the relativist approaches—leads Hacker to reach the following, somewhat paradoxical conclusion: “we must conclude that the more people affected by globalization need the law to assist them in coordinating their conflicting expectations with their family members or with the state in which they live, the more unlikely it is that the law can meet the challenge” (p. 116).6 If the “law as it is” fails to meet this basic challenge, how could we reimagine the “law as it should be”? The next step in my analysis is to suggest that when dealing with a situation in flux, as appears to be the foreseeable future for the cross-border and transnational families that Hacker describes, we must adopt a flexible approach that begins to match the unpredictable realities that these families face. This is not an easy task for the law, as it tends to categorize people, places, and relationships into preexisting boxes. But this seems to be the call of the hour. If both relativism and universalism are rejected (as I believe they should be), what future trajectories of law could govern the life-cycles of families with ties and connections that extend beyond a single society, culture, or national community? Here, I would like to push the analysis beyond that offered in the book, while accepting its core premise of the urgency to explore the ever-proliferating constellations of cross-border and transnational families. Imagining legal innovation: three frameworks of interpretation While I cannot offer a full sketch of the range of possible options across the spectrum between the poles of relativism and universalism, I will highlight some alternative areas that seem to be gaining traction. Further, I will assume the following: if we are in search of conditions that will allow a diverse range of families to flourish, while providing viable options for their members (or relevant third parties) to seek legal remedy and protection if they face injustice or abuse, then a laissez-faire, libertarian approach is not a fitting framework to reimagine the next generation of legal developments in the field. Reading the tea leaves is always a perilous act; the reflections I offer are therefore presented in the spirit of curiosity rather than prescription. In my analysis, the alternatives can be classified into three broad frameworks or interpretative directions: open-ended proliferation; case-by-case decision making; and the “best interests of the family.” Before I turn to these alternatives, however, I note an important caveat. Questions of Directionality: Does Law Follow Societal Change, or Vice Versa? In the maze of ever expanding new forms of families and the multiple jurisdictions that affect their lives, we can imagine the law as a vanguard: setting norms, defining opportunities, expanding the horizons and protections offered to cross-border and transnational families. However, in braving such uncharted terrains, the law may also prove to be a rearguard, following societal changes rather than leading them. In this, the law is Janus-faced. The narratives recounted in Legalized Families reveal many junctures where the law fails to adapt or innovate. In such circumstances, disruptive innovation is encapsulated in the actions and innovations of family members themselves, through their manifold lived experiences. Legal recognition (or lack thereof) comes afterward. It does not operate as a terrain-setter but as a boundary condition that gets tested by social forces, political actors, activists, policymakers, as well as new technologies, ideas, economies of scale, and transnational forces of solidarity, contestation, and resistance.7 Open-ended proliferation This approach has the benefit of averting the hopeless task of envisioning or fixing, through law, the future definitions of parenthood, kinship, and marriage. Instead, elastic boundaries will replace once-fixed delineations. Consider, for example, the struggle for recognition of same sex marriages. This recognition has been one of the major transformations in the definition of the family over the past few decades. Less than a quarter of a century ago, in 2000, the Netherlands became the first country in the world to legalize same-sex marriage in a bill that granted couples the right to marry, divorce, and adopt. The legislation reads: “A marriage can be contracted by two people of different or the same sex.”8 Today, more than two dozen countries have revised their laws to expand the definition of marriage from “one man and one woman” to include same-sex couples. Most of the countries are in Europe and the Americas.9 South Africa is the first (and to date, the only) country in Africa that recognizes same-sex marriage, having adopted its new marriage act, the Civil Union Act, in 2006, a year after that country’s constitutional court ruled that previous legislation violated the equality guarantees in the new (post-Apartheid) constitution.10 In the United States, same-sex couples received equal recognition nationally only in 2015. Again, this recognition followed a long and protracted legal battle, culminating in a split 5: 4 ruling by the U.S. Supreme Court in the Obergefell decision.11 In other parts of the world, however, the ongoing quest of same-sex couples for legal equality and societal acceptance is far from over. If anything, recent years have witnessed a counter-mobilization movement, led by some of the more conservative branches of Christianity and other major religions, which have become active both domestically and transnationally in their opposition to the recognition of same-sex marriage. While the Vatican, for example, has signaled that it may soften its position toward the LGBT community, it has nevertheless taken a strong stance against same-sex marriage, holding that by virtue of its definition, marriage can only be between a man and a woman.12 American evangelical organizations have gone a step further by becoming actively engaged in promoting some of the harshest rhetoric and antigay legislation in Uganda, Kenya, Nigeria, and Zimbabwe, among other countries.13 Taking the long-view, some might argue that this backlash is not surprising, as hardly any major societal and legal change, especially in the charged realm of the family, with its multiple stakeholders and claimants, has ever passed without provoking resistance and powerful reactions. But it is equally fair to consider whether we are witnessing a new global divide whereby the definition of the family becomes the terrain on which battles over sexual diversity, gender equality, and religious freedom are fought.14 Hacker’s book focuses primarily on those countries that have relaxed the exclusivity of opposite-sex marriage, such as Canada, which in 2005 dispensed the older definition of the institution of marriage “as understood in Christendom,… as the voluntary union for life of one man and one woman, to the exclusion of all others” (as defined in the 1866 British ruling in Hyde v. Hyde and Woodmansee), adopting instead a new definition of civil marriage as “the lawful union of two persons to the exclusion of all others.”15 Without a cataclysmic disruption, it is hard to imagine that this transformation could stop or reverse in stable democracies with a commitment to advancing human rights. Even within countries that have brought equal marriage rights to gay couples, however, such changes have become embroiled in acrimonious debates about the future of monogamy and the role of the state in regulating—and defining—the contours of family and nation.16 To provide but one example, the United States recently stopped issuing diplomatic family visas, known as the G-4 visas, to same-sex domestic partners of foreign diplomats or employees of international organizations such as the UN, the World Bank and NATO, who work in the United States. Under these new rules, those in a position to submit proof of marriage will obtain family visas for their dependents, whereas those in domestic partnerships will not. This policy privileges the married (whether of the same or opposite sex) over those who have not formalized their relationship, whether due to individual choice or because they face obstacles to doing so if they hail from countries that do not recognize gay marriages—the vast majority of the world’s countries. At the same time, several jurisdictions are pushing the envelope in the direction of expanding the definition of spousal and parental relationships that constitute family in the eyes of the law. I already mentioned the recent legislation emanating from Canada that expands the definition of the family to include up to four, rather than just two, parents. This legislation allows prospective parents, gestational carriers and surrogates to have their legal rights recognized and formalized in relation to a newborn child. Another frontier on the horizon relates to the division of rights and responsibilities between parents and grandparents. The law currently privileges the former over the latter, but a more functional and relational approach may give greater weight to the changing fabric of relations in a globalized world whereby the actual caregiving and daily decisions concerning the well-being of the so-called stay-behind child are made by grandparents (or other relatives) while the parents reside abroad for extended periods of time, often to support the economic needs of the family back home. These questions become particularly arresting if conflicts arise within a globally-dispersed family or across its multitier generations. The path of accelerated proliferation and, to some extent, experimentation will likely lead to new categories and identity-based claims that we cannot yet fully predict. We have no way to know ex ante the full range and variation of such new arrangements to emerge ex post. In such a situation of flux and uncertainty, the strongest argument in favor of what I have called “open-ended proliferation” is to err on the side of generosity of interpretation, as long as the said relations do not fall below a basic standard of mutual care and responsibility. To explain the logic of open-ended proliferation, consider the evolution of the acronym adopted in public discourse to describe and celebrate sexual diversity. The term initially included only the initials LGB (lesbian, gay, bisexual). The “T” in LGBT was added to refer to transgender people. Some communities now identify as LGBTQIA (lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, queer, intersex, and asexual) or simply LGBT+. There have been calls for further specificity and inclusivity in relation to additional, emerging sexual identities. Some have called for adding another “Q” for questioning, another “T” for transsexual, or another “I” for intergender. A contested debate emerged around the proposal to add another “A” for ally. This would lead to the following formulation: LGBPTTQQIIAA+. This definition has yet (if ever) to take flight, but the direction is clear. The list could further grow and expand, as new sexual identities are named and claimed by those who hold them. This approach runs the risk, however, of never reaching full inclusivity: some might feel they are unfairly left out or, conversely, “bracketed together.”17 The same set of concerns might arise in the context of proliferating forms of family life, across, within, or in defiance of preexisting borders and classifications, but open-endedness has its advantages, too. As Gerard Kosovich, a curator for the GBLT History Museum in San Francisco, observes in relation to the ever-expanding LGBT acronym: “[Naming is] ultimately a discussion about respect… a discussion about who is given visibility, a discussion about how power is distributed.… It’s not just a debate about an acronym or a set of terminology. That’s the proxy for discussion about social change, social power, respect, self-respect, visibility—a variety of things that are absolutely essential to people’s ability to live in the world and feel that their experience and desire and sense of self is being honored.”18 Case-by-case decision making Another alternative is to avoid any generalization and to resort instead to case-by-case, ad hoc decision-making. This is the utmost expression of contextualism, as each family’s situation is treated as a wholesome universe that requires a specialized, tailor-made response. This approach may seem like a perfect solution to some, as it averts the need to engage in the Sisyphean task of chasing the proliferating new prototypes of families, only to realize that even the most open-ended, encyclopedic categorization will always remain incomplete and unfinished. For others, this approach epitomizes long-standing concerns about lack of predictability, stability, and transparency—values that the legal system is expected to provide for those whose life plans and range of family options it partly shapes and governs. Reliance on case-by-case decision making may also unwittingly exacerbate rather than diffuse existing power structures. Women, immigrants, and members of racial, cultural, and religious minorities (categories that may well overlap among individuals) tend to systemically underuse the legal system. They experience unequal access to courts, legal representation, legal knowledge, and may face social and communal pressure to avoid such litigation (or political campaigning) for gender justice or reform in contested realms such as deciding which set of laws is applicable to a particular set of family relations, and who or what entity gets to makes such determinations in case of conflict.19 The “Best Interests of the Family” Another approach to consider is adding a new legal category, to be labeled the “best interests of the family,” akin to the “best interests of the child.” The best interests of the child is a core concept in family law, both criticized and celebrated for its ambiguity and open texture, which requires judges, lawyers, social workers, and other official agents who gain influence on the life of the family in case of crisis, breakdown, failure to comply with a minimum standard of care, or, conversely, potential expansion (by way of adoption and so on).20 Reaching such decisions requires a “microscopic” legal exploration, as Justice Albie Sachs of the South African Constitutional Court memorably put it in another context—courts, parents, aid workers, and others must consider the concrete options that would best promote the interests of the child in a given context and in light of that child’s overall life circumstances.21 Over time, the application of the best interests of the child principle has expanded to a broad range of situations and a growing list of fields of law (including immigration). In Canada, to provide but one example, the landmark 1999 Baker decision held that immigration officials reviewing a deportation order on humanitarian and compassionate grounds must take into account the best interests of the child(ren) directly affected by that decision.22 This ruling was later codified into law, requiring officials to give weight to the best interests of the child in immigration decisions. Importantly, however, the best interests of the child is one among many factors that decision-makers need to consider. As such, it does not have a dispositive effect. Other things held equal, however, a child’s right to enjoy the presence of her parents in her life in her country of citizenship or permanent residence can help sway the pendulum in the direction of allowing the parent to benefit from a humanitarian and compassionate provision that would allow that parent to gain legal status to remain with the child. This would also allow courts or other adjudicators to take into account the level of interconnectedness and interdependence that has already been established between the child, parent, and family to the country of residence, following a logic that I have elsewhere called the jus nexi principle.23 The stronger the link, the stronger the claim to remain. As in any rights protection regime, nothing is absolute, and countervailing interests will have to be balanced. However, this change would allow transnational families to use rights as “trumps” (as Ronald Dworkin famously put it) to curtail the otherwise overwhelming if not draconian power of administrative agencies to separate and divide families on account of immigration charges.24 The basic idea here is to explore whether granting in today’s day and age recognition and weight to the “best interests of the family” in the context of admission, settlement or deportation decisions may open up new avenues for negotiation and protection. As Baker demonstrates, the answer may well be affirmative. One option to contemplate is to include the “best interests of the family” as a routine consideration to be taken into account by courts, administrative agencies and other officials dealing with cross-border and transnational families’ immigration status.25 Another possibility is for governments to undertake something along the lines of a family impact assessment, just as they currently must conduct an environmental impact study, when adopting new pieces of legislation or regulation that place families, especially those with a noncitizen spouse, child, or parent, in jeopardy. This and related procedures would offer transnational families additional avenues for claims-making and for elaborating remedies that relate to the complexity and multilayered facts of their cross-border lived experience. Like the incorporation of the best interests of the child, this consideration would give weight to the relevant interests of the affected family in the broader context of other factors that go into any immigration decision, anticipating a balancing formula or proportionality test in the case of competing interests. The best interests of the family approach would thus merge some of the benefits that are currently captured under the above-mentioned ideas of open-ended expansionism and case-by-case decision-making, while offering them a more structured “umbrella” and using the expressive function of the law to grant recognition to cross-border families, however diverse and variable their constellations may turn out to be in practice. This approach also has the advantage of building upon existing legal instruments that respect the right to family life, most notably Article 8 of the European Convention on Human Rights. Article 8 has been relied upon to expand the notion of “family” beyond those officially married to encompass family ties among parties who are cohabiting without ever entering a formal marriage relationship,26 or living in a stable same-sex relationship.27 The European Court of Human Rights has also granted recognition to family life formed in religious marriages, even if such marriages are not formally recognized by national law;28 to the right of a child and a parent to mutually enjoy each other’s company, even if the relationship between the child’s parents has broken down;29 and to the fact that grandparents and other relatives may play a considerable part in family life.30 These measures fit the direction of granting greater recognition to the parties’ own choices and actions regarding how to create and practice their family life, although they do not entail an anything-goes approach. Article 8 introduces rather extensive grounds for balancing other competing interests, including “national security, public safety or the economic well-being of the country, for the prevention of disorder or crime, for the protection of health or morals, or for the protection of the rights and freedoms of others.”31 The ECtHR line of jurisprudence in interpreting and applying Article 8 reveals a commitment to moving away from the traditional reliance on fixed and inflexible pre-defined categories towards a more functional, relational and evidence-based definition of the family, which opens the door for new and more varied forms of family life.32 Given the long history of oppression within the family (especially but not exclusively on gendered grounds), as soon as we begin to imagine the application of the “best interests of the family” principle to real-life cases, we encounter not only its advantages but also its potential drawbacks. How to address power inequalities within the family unit? What happens if different members of the family have competing, if not diametrically opposed, interpretations of what counts as the family’s best interest? Whose perspective should be adopted, and which entity would have the authority (and even more contestably, the legitimacy) to make such a call? These queries are not entirely new; they replicate what now occurs in relation to defining, or debating, a child’s best interests, or tensions between uncoordinated sources of law, such as religious or civic laws in defining marriage and divorce.33 Despite these difficulties, trying to envision what might be added by taking into account the best interests of the cross-border or transnational family (and its multiple members) can prove immensely important in recognizing and protecting the family unit, especially if it falls beyond a more familiar configuration, and in highlighting experiences that are uniquely rooted in its cross-border or transnational composition. Recent jurisprudence emanating from Europe’s other major supranational court, the Court of Justice of the European Union, also lends support to what I have termed the best interest of the family, by extending derivative rights to residency to noncitizen parents (known as “third-country nationals” in EU legal parlance), in order to allow the family to remain together. Recent cases such as the 2018 ruling in K.A. and Others v Belgium echo the logic of Canadian Baker decision, by precluding national authorities from proceeding with a deportation order without first taking into account the details of the third-country national’s family life.34 On such occasions, the authorities must examine all circumstances pertaining to the best interest of the child and assess the risks of separation from the noncitizen parent, should the latter be compelled to the leave the territory of the EU. Building on its earlier decisions in Zambrano and Chavez-Vilchez, the Court incorporates into the analysis the idea that when national authorities categorically refuse to consider the noncitizen parent’s request to establish residency status in the EU through a family reunification claim, harm is done to the minor child’s “genuine enjoyment of the substance of one’s EU citizenship rights.”35 The family unit or child-parent connection thus become the focus on analysis, and special care is given to examining whether a relationship of care and dependency exists, as evidenced by the “age of the child, the child’s physical and emotional development, the extent of his [or her] emotional ties both to the [EU] citizen parent and to the third-country national parent, and the risks which separation from the latter might entail for the child’s equilibrium.”36 Not having the state arbitrarily deport a third-country national parent of a minor child (as in the EU context) or militating against the callous separation of families at the U.S. border would be concrete and tangible applications flowing from this new principle. Assuming we operate in a world of regulated borders, the principle of the best interests of the family or the child will likely face robust opposition if it always points in the direction of overcoming or dissolving a removal or deportation order, thus allowing noncitizen family member a “free card” to breach any provision guarding the orderly process of gaining admission to a new country or securing the conditions of lawful residence or naturalization. The principle, then, must be subject to jurisprudential standards of balance and proportionality. The developing European case law provides a sound model. It holds that while national authorities must consider the family reunification claim, even in circumstances where the noncitizen parent is formally subject to an entry ban that is still in force, a family-based “derived” right of residence may still be refused on grounds of public policy. The bar is set high, however, and once a claim is established the burden falls on the government to demonstrate that the person concerned represents a genuine, present and sufficiently serious threat to public policy. When no such threat is present, the care and dependency relationship between the parent and the minor child is recognized as sufficiently weighty as to overcome the otherwise pending removal order. When assessed globally, the emerging set of EU protections granted to family members already residing on the territory is extraordinary. It is also politically charged. Why? Because in this line of cases, which begun in the early 2000s with the Zhu and Chen decision, the noncitizen parent’s right to establish lawful residency “travels” derivatively from the child to her mother, reversing the typical transmission from parent to child.37 In the Chen decision, the European Court of Justice broke new ground when it held that the non-EU mother of a baby born in Ireland, who acquired Irish (and thus European) citizenship by virtue of birth on Irish territory, is entitled to exercise her daughter’s European free movement rights. After engaging in such mobility, the mother and child applied for a long-term residence permit in the United Kingdom. The Court ruled in their favor, reasoning that although the mother could not acquire a right to residence as a “dependent” family member of her child, she was entitled to stay because the child was dependent on her, and without her, the child’s European citizenship rights would be meaningless. Upon its release in 2004, the Chen decision was met with outrage from the Member States. Ireland responded by taking the drastic step of amending its constitution and adopting more restrictive jus soli birthright rules in order to prevent a repeat of a Chen-like scenario, making it harder for similarly situated children with foreign national parents to gain Irish and EU citizenship in the future. As recent years have shown us, demise-of-the-state theories that have predicted the waning of sovereignty in the current age of globalization, prophesying the decline of borders and membership boundaries, have severely underestimated the ingenuity and resilience of states—acting alone or in concert—to protect and enhance what they perceive as their sovereign interest of controlling the gates of admission, settlement, and naturalization.38 With the rise of populism and the reemergence of nationalism, tensions surrounding the definition of the “people” and who (or what entity) gets to determine the boundaries of membership—a national legislature, a supranational court, a democratic majority, hard/soft law norms, social practice, and so on—will only become more pressing, and likely more difficult to negotiate, for transnational families. Both states and families, then, are contributing to and generating new disruptive innovations. As Ireland’s reaction to the Chen decision indicates, state responses do not just have bearing on residency, but on national and transnational membership regimes, as well. I now wish to examine more carefully the topic of access to citizenship by naturalization in the context of today’s ever-changing family structures and constellations. Citizenship, families: economic and cultural considerations I consider citizenship to be a valuable good, both substantively and instrumentally. Citizenship multiplies life chances and opportunities in a world of persistent inequality. I coined the term the birthright lottery to emphasize its dual gatekeeping and distributive qualities. When nations grant citizenship to persons who did not win their “lottery” at birth, we must ask: who gets in, or ought to get in, and according to what criteria?39 These hefty decisions are the bread and butter of law and politics. While there is no global consensus on the legal regulation of mobility, all countries recognize family-based migration in one form or another. Moreover, given the reliance on birthright in allotting membership to those who were born on the territory (jus soli) or to the progeny of citizen-parents, wherever they happened to have been born (jus sanguinis), definitions of family life become deeply implicated in determining who “automatically” belongs to one (or more) political communities by virtue of where or to whom they were born. When members of transnational families wish to migrate or reunite, legal recognition of their family structures (or lack thereof) comes to play a key role in defining who might gain access to post-birth membership, should they wish, or need, to acquire citizenship by virtue of naturalization in a country other than that in which chance, not choice, has placed them. For cross-national and transnational families such decisions are particularly weighty: without initial admission, a right to remain, or permission to establish continued territorial presence, members of the family cannot share a life together in the same country.40 The law in most well-off countries is ambiguous in relation to family migration: expanding rights and protections on the one hand (at multiple levels of governance, local, national and supranational, through case law and legislation), while on the other hand imposing barriers and restrictions on the definition of “spouse,” “child,” “marriage,” and the like. Here, too, different regulatory regimes and levels of governance can lead to new paradoxes, both enabling and restricting mobile, cross-border transnational families. In Europe, for example, families with EU and non-EU members which exercise mobility by moving to another EU country enjoy greater rights than those who stay put in the EU home country. This is an asymmetry that has received significant attention, in part because it reverses expectations: it is those who “migrate” (technically, those who exercise their right to freedom of movement within the Union) who gain better protections than nonmobile home citizens, an irregular situation that challenges the whole conceptual hierarchical apparatus that sees newcomers as not-yet-full members, and thus as entitled to lesser, rather than greater, rights than those who already possess the most wholesome status of membership: citizenship. This legal asymmetry is typically an upside for cross-national or transnational families (if one of their members is an EU citizen), a benefit gained by exercising freedom of movement, which itself derives from a supranational affiliation. Just as it is empowering, the multiplicity of regulatory spheres and multilevel sources of law can also prevent families from uniting or reuniting in a country of their choice. The adoption of the EU family reunification directive is a case in point. This directive was adopted in 2003 with the goal of determining “the conditions under which non-EU nationals residing lawfully on the territory of EU countries may exercise the right to family reunification.”41 More specifically, the Directive was designed to facilitate the process of family reunification, by establishing common rules and procedural guarantees that apply in the various member states, creating an “entry channel enabling those who already reside legally in a member state (referred to as sponsors) to be joined by their family members.”42 Such family reunification applies to relationships that were created before, or after, the migration of the already-residing EU sponsor. While providing rights protections that derive from legislation at the supranational level, the new Directive was accompanied by increased emphasis at the national level on civic integration tests and related measures, such as proof of linguistic proficiency, which may be imposed prior to the arrival of the sponsored family member, while that spouse is still at the country of origin. These measures reverse the once-accepted view of integration as the end-result of migration rather than its precondition. Further complicating matters, such national regulation has itself become contested in some EU Member States by city- and municipal-level initiatives to support migrant families, if they are already in the country, even where the parties may lack proper documentation or have no secure status to remain lawfully. We thus revisit the Janus face of the law: family reunification is a major stated goal of immigration law and policy in affluent democracies and certain measures are in place to facilitate such entry and residence, yet extensive barriers are also placed on fulfilling this promise. Navigating this maze and the risks of separation from a loved one are tasks that currently fall on members of cross-national and transnational families, and on various networks and community organizations that may offer them legal and other venues of support. As countries extensively monitor the application of the right to family reunification, they impose heavy evidentiary requirements on the parties to prove the relationship upon which access to long-term residence (and eventual citizenship) is founded. This indirectly turns immigration officials into marriage and child-rearing “experts” with all the accompanying difficulties and vulnerabilities of being lost-in-translation, as well as concerns about cultural imperialism and related biases against family patterns that are deemed “too different.” If anything, in today’s age of rising populism, we can only expect these trends to intensify.43 Indeed, family migration is increasingly a contested category. The acrimonious debate in the United States about “chain migration” offers the most recent incarnation of ongoing disagreements about whom to include under the rubric of family members who ought to gain preferable access (compared to others who may wish to immigrate but have no similar prior links) on account of their familial relationship to a U.S. citizen or lawful permanent resident.44 The legal provisions stipulated in the Immigration and Nationality Act allow citizens and green-card holders to sponsor relatives such as parents, siblings, adult or married sons and daughters, or a spouse’s children (if they are unmarried and under the age of 21 years). There are also financial sponsorship requirements that fall on the citizen or permanent resident who is already within the country. These financial requirements include proof of an income level at or above 125 per cent of the federal poverty level, and the signing of an affidavit on behalf of the incoming family member wishing to settle in the United States.45 These sponsorship requirements are demanding, but in comparative perspective, the American provisions are more generous than those endorsed by comparable countries. In the EU, for example, the family reunification directive sets a baseline floor of facilitating the conditions of arrival and stay of minor children and the sponsor’s spouse (or unmarried partner, depending on the specific jurisdiction). Countries may raise the ceiling by adding dependent adult children or dependent parents to those who can be sponsored. No European country includes siblings on the list. The discretion exercised by Member States is not limited to determining which categories, beyond the agreed upon baseline, to include under the rubric of family reunification. They may also set accompanying conditions, such as proof of sufficient resources, adequate housing space, processing fees, and health coverage. These restrictions, as Hacker observes, disproportionately impact those at the lower end of the socioeconomic ladder, making it harder for “poorer citizens in general and citizens of other vulnerable groups, such as the offspring of immigrants and people of color, who are overrepresented in the lower deciles in Western countries” (p. 171) to exercise the right to family unification or reunification. Hacker is correct, I believe, to object to the insertion of wealth and economic ability criteria into a realm where they do not belong: a right to family life. We can rely here on the influential argument developed by Michael Walzer in Spheres of Justice, according to which “no citizen’s standing in one sphere or with regards to one social good can be undercut by his standing in some other sphere, with regard to some other good.”46 The concern here is that inequality in one sphere—economic might—translates into giving advantages to the relatively well-off segments of the population who can afford to sponsor eligible noncitizen family members. At the same time, this inequality deprives those who may equally wish to unite with their noncitizen family members, but are barred from bringing them into the country on account of their socioeconomic status. Walzer’s theory of complex equality would see this as an unjust situation, defining it as a “blocked transaction.” My assumption is that Hacker would accept the Walzerian position, as she vigorously criticizes the imposition of economic requirements that disadvantage low-income citizens in their quest to unite or reunite with their families from abroad. She rightly points out that such criteria are part of a broader strategy adopted by states to restrict uninvited migration precisely in an age when globalization and cross-border mobility will likely only “produce” more families that are constituted of citizens and noncitizen members alike. I share Hacker’s concerns here and would place them, as she does, in the context of a rich body of literature that has explored the “restrictive turn” in citizenship and immigration law and policy.47 Hacker adds an acute awareness, however, to the gendered dimension of such policies. The results of current policies of spousal sponsorship appear particularly wounding to women, because, on average, they “earn less and have fewer resources than men to sponsor a spouse” (p. 170). The argument that Hacker advances is thus clear and convincing on the economic side. Where I find her position wanting is in explaining why in her discussion of access to citizenship she takes a much more lenient position toward what we might call the “cultural” or societal standing of women rather than their strict material situation. In other parts of the book, Hacker takes a strong position in favor of protecting young women, for example, through legal and educational policies that seek to undermine, if not altogether prohibit, early-age arranged or forced marriages that are practiced, as she explains, primarily in the context of family-based migration from south to north and east to west. She portrays such practices enforced by families on their young female members in a negative light and as a gross violation of human rights, operating as a “means to preserve ethno-familial and religious identity, as well as to prevent female premarital sex, and to ensure the patricidal enforcement of women’s roles as wives and mothers in what is perceived by their families as a predominant [] culture that is promiscuous, unduly liberal, and overly feminist” (p. 75). Despite ongoing debates in the literature and in public policy about the distinction between arranged and forced marriage, Hacker concludes that “any marriage before the age of 18, initiated by adult family members, is forced, because a minor, dependent on her parent, cannot give voluntary informed consent to be married” (p. 75).48 This is not a spineless position. When we reach the chapter on citizenship, however, we find a much more muted position expressed by Hacker. For instance, she is highly critical of immigration and naturalization policies adopted by countries such as Denmark and Norway that seek to prevent the automatic grant of marriage-based permanent residence status to noncitizens if the marriage was arranged “by someone other than the spouse” and the relations are perceived as involuntary. These regulations apply if one of the spouses is under the age of 24 years, barring special exceptions.49 It seems rather formalistic to define any marriage up until the age of 18 years as categorically forced, and then argue that when it comes to spouses between the ages of 18 and 24 years that have entered an arranged marriage, the regulating state’s attempt to use the law to restrict or limit such practices amounts to a manifestation of “moral panic.”50 Either the initial position has to be softened, or the latter has to be more comprehensively justified. If the underlying suspicion is that such policies are motivated by racial or cultural bias against newcomers from non-Western countries, as may well be the case, then such bias does not begin at the age 18 years or miraculously disappear after the parties reach the age of 24 years. Similarly, if adults wish to restrict certain behaviors of young female members of their families as a result of their attempt to preserve certain ethno-religious identities, then such pressures are likely to be exerted in an ongoing fashion; the watershed distinction between pre- and post-18 itself seems borrowed from a legal culture that (artificially) assumes that autonomy and freedom from adult authorities magically occurs once a person has reached the formal age of majority. Moreover, the formal age of majority is itself defined differently in different countries. In short, the vast gulf between Hacker’s judgement calls in these two cases requires more work to convince this reader. It further raises the thorny question of whether queries about the validity of the marriage (in the eyes of the admitting state) and the relationship that exists between the spouses may legitimately be examined in regulating migration and access to citizenship.51 This question requires us to step back and fill in the blanks in terms of what is unique and worthy of protection in the case of family-based migration, and what guidelines or limits might legitimately be employed by the country in which such unification or reunification is to take place. Such queries will likely become more pressing and relevant, as new definitions of “spouses,” “partners,” “children,” and “parents” emerge, especially if we heed to the above-discussed frameworks of interpretation that anticipate more varied constellations of family life. Women as migrant workers While Hacker’s emphasis on the significance of family-based migration is admirable, especially in light of her claim that spousal relations have “become one of very few remaining routes to [admission] and naturalization for undesired migrants,” it also raises unresolved dilemmas from the perspective of gender justice. Why focus on women in the immigration context as spouses and mothers? The most recent empirical evidence from the Global Migration Data Analysis Centre reveal that women account for 48 per cent of the global international migration stock.52 Of these women, a significant number—66 million strong according to the most recent statistics—move across borders as migrant workers, not as family members.53 These rapid developments on the ground call, to my mind, for a more extensive shift in the way women are conceptualized in contemporary mobility and migration debates. What positions do these migrant women hold in the labor market? Are they funneled to temporary, low-paying jobs such as domestic work, or have women also been able to break into more lucrative positions in the countries to which they have moved? Are there differences in the integration rates of women compared to male migrants? Do female labor migrants tend, on average, to send more remittances than their male counterparts? Do they show a stronger tendency to sponsor their family members or follow patterns of circular migration that allow them to return back home for several months a year to spend time with family members, especially their “left behind” children? How do their visa conditions affect such decisions through the constraints placed on their mobility? Another set of queries focuses on legal frameworks that are, or ought to be, in place to provide meaningful protection to women—and all—migrant workers. To whom should a female migrant turn if her passport is confiscated, her rights are abused, or her basic safety is at risk? Whose responsibility it is to advance the rights of sexual minorities and women in globalized “human supply chains”?54 What support structures and, where relevant, remedies are offered to women by their home countries, international or regional organizations, or receiving communities, especially when they face gendered or racialized discrimination? How should the law, both domestic and international, deal with sexual abuse, trafficking, or other gendered harms that female labor migrants disproportionately face? These are anything but theoretical concerns. Official reports estimate that in today’s world a staggering number of more than 8 million migrant women and girls work in service provision at private homes rather than public workplaces, exacerbating power and class inequalities that make it harder to reveal and challenge such abuses, especially in countries that rely on individual-sponsorship contracts or altogether remove paid domestic care from the purview of labor law protections.55 Once we have a better grasp of the underlying empirical reality of women’s migration patterns—as spouses, mothers, workers, or all of the above—we will need to begin to tailor responses that match these varied experiences. These two channels—work and family—are not mutually exclusive. In fact, they intersect in the lives of a growing number of women, especially those who depend on participation in the paid labor market to survive and support their families. The international discourse of rights is already moving in the direction of protecting migrant women as workers (such as the ILO Domestic Workers Convention which entered into force in 2013), in addition to the more traditional view of women as wives and mothers. If we heed Hacker’s cycle-of-life analysis in Legalized Families, then taking account of women in their multiplicity of roles, aspirations, and responsibilities is the true disruptive innovation in ongoing struggles for global, local, and gender justice. Concluding remarks Daphna Hacker’s Legalized Families is a creative tour de force. The author’s passion for her topic is heartfelt. The greatest success of this book is in putting families on the map, directly and squarely, as agents and products of unresolved tensions between globalization and bordered communities. Readers will feel overwhelmed after having read it, but the reward is well worth the effort. Footnotes 1Clayton M. Christensen, The Innovator’s Dilemma: When New Technologies Cause Great Firms to Fail 15 (Harvard Business School Press 1997). 2Daphna Hacker, Legalized Families in the Era of Bordered Globalization 4 (Cambridge University Press 2017). 3 The term bordered globalization is used in the book to highlight the relevance of both regulated borders and globalization processes in shaping the opportunities and challenges that families face, especially if they migrate across borders. 4 Children’s Law Reform Act, RSO 1990, c C. 12, part I, s. 11(1). 5 Internal citations omitted. 6 Emphasis added. 7 The book closes with such a plea for activism, personal and political, but remains indeterminate about the law, seeing it operating as both an enabler and restrictor of the opportunities and basic protections available to family members across borders. 8Gay Marriage Around the World, Pew Research Center (August 8, 2017), http://www.pewforum.org/2017/08/08/gay-marriage-around-the-world-2013/ 9 In the Americas, same-sex marriage has been legalized at the national level by Argentina, Brazil, Canada, Colombia, the United States, and Uruguay, and it is also accepted in some subnational jurisdictions in Mexico (e.g., Mexico City). 10 The South African legislation permits religious institutions and civil officers to refuse to conduct same-sex marriage ceremonies. 11 576 U.S. _ (2015). 12 Catholic Church, The Sacrament of Matrimony, in the Catechism of the Catholic Church (2d ed.), http://www.vatican.va/archive/ccc_css/archive/catechism/p2s2c3a7.htm. 13 For further discussion of such “anti-rights” transnational activism by religious organizations, see Ran Hirschl & Ayelet Shachar, Competing Orders? The Challenge of Religion to Modern Constitutionalism, 85 Univ. Chicago L. Rev. 425 (2018). 14 These trends are described by Hirschl and Shachar, Id. See also Douglas NeJamie & Reva Siegel, Religious Accommodation, and Its Limits, in a Pluralist Society, in Religious Accommodation and LGBT Rights: Possibilities and Challenges for Finding Common Ground (Robin Fretwell Wilson & William N. Eskridge eds., Cambridge University Press 2018). 15 Civil Marriage Act, s. 2, S.C. 2005, c. 33, Assented to July 20, 2005 (Canada). For legislative history, see Mary C. Hurley, Law and Government Division, Parliament of Canada, Bill C-38: The Civil Marriage Act, LS-502E (2005), https://lop.parl.ca/About/Parliament/LegislativeSummaries/bills_ls.asp?ls=c38&Parl=38&Ses=1 16 On these debates, see, e.g., Elizabeth Brake, Minimizing Marriage: Marriage, Morality, and the Law (Oxford University Press 2012); Stephen Macedo, Just Married: Same-Sex Couples, Monogamy, and the Future of Marriage (Princeton University Press 2015). See also Kathrine Franke, Dating the State: The Moral Hazards of Winning Gay Rights, 44 Columbia Hum. Right. L. Rev. 1 (2012). 17 On the political uses of LGBT rights, see, e.g., Aeyal Gross, The Politics of LGBT Rights in Israel and Beyond: Nationality, Normativity, and Queer Politics, 46 Columbia Hum. Right. L. Rev. 81 (2015). See also Julie Bindel, Viewpoint: Should Gay Men and Lesbians be Bracketed Together?, BBC Magazine, July 2, 2014, http://www.bbc.com/news/magazine-28130472. 18 Emily Zak, LGBPTTQQIIAA+: How We Got Here from Gay, Ms. Magazine Blog, October 1, 2013, http://msmagazine.com/blog/2013/10/01/lgbpttqqiiaa-how-we-got-here-from-gay/ (quoting Gerard Kosovich). 19 These kinds of questions motivated the analysis in Ayelet Shachar, Multicultural Jurisdictions: Cultural Differences and Women’s Rights (Cambridge University Press 2001). There are some procedural mechanisms to address some of these concerns, for example, by allowing third parties to advocate on behalf of a family member, or nominating a council or guardian by the court to represent a minor child. But to reach these solutions, it must be known that there is a concern that has to be addressed in the first place. The more close-knit a given community is, the less likely such information will become available in the standard course of events, potentially making the law an unknowing accomplice in perpetuating domination and injustice. 20 For an overview of some of these debates, see Philip Alston, The Best Interests Principle: Towards a Reconciliation of Culture and Human Rights, 8 Int. J. L. Family 1 (1994); Ayelet Shachar, Demystifying Culture, 10 Int. J. Const. L. 441 (2012). 21 The best interests of the child principle can be used affirmatively or defensively. 22 Baker v. Canada [1999] 2 SCR 817. 23 Ayelet Shachar, Earned Citizenship: Property Lessons for Immigration Reform, 23 Yale J. L. Human. 110 (2011). 24 Ronald Dworkin, Rights as Trumps, in Theories of Rights 153–67 (Jeremey Waldron ed., Oxford University Press 1984). 25 It might further require courts and tribunals to engage in individualized evaluation of the impact that an administrative decision to grant or deny a right to enter or remain would have on one or more of the affected family’s members. 26 Johnston and Others v. Ireland (1986), 112 ECHR (Ser A); Van der Heijden v. the Netherlands [GC], No 42857/05 (3 April 2012). 27 Vallianatos and Others v. Greece [GC], No 29381/09, [2013] VI ECHR 125 (extracts); X and Others v. Austria [GC], No 19010/07, [2013] II ECHR 1; PB and JS v. Austria, No 18984/02 (22 July 2010); Schalk and Kopf v. Austria, No 30141/04, [2010] IV ECHR 409. 28 Abdulaziz, Cabales and Balkandali v. the United Kingdom (1985), 94 ECHR (Ser A). 29 Monory v. Romania and Hungary, No 71099/01 (5 April 2005); Zorica Jovanović v. Serbia, No 21794/08, [2013] II ECHR 147; Kutzner v. Germany, No 46544/99, [2002] I ECHR 207; Elsholz v. Germany [GC], No 25735/94, [2000] VIII ECHR 345; K and T v. Finland [GC], No 25702/94, [2001] VII ECHR 191. 30 Marckx v. Belgium (1979), 31 ECHR (Ser A); Price v. the United Kingdom (1988), 55 Eur Comm’n HR DR. 31 Art. 8 ECHR states that: “1. Everyone has the right to respect for his private and family life, his home and his correspondence. 2. There shall be no interference by a public authority with the exercise of this right except such as is in accordance with the law and is necessary in a democratic society in the interests of national security, public safety or the economic well-being of the country, for the prevention of disorder or crime, for the protection of health or morals, or for the protection of the rights and freedoms of others.” 32 In all these cases, however, the right is granted to an individual in his or her relationship to other family members; it is not a consideration of the best interests of the family per se. 33 There are also concerns about whether it is possible for any legal system to adopt a neutral “point of view from nowhere,” or whether nontraditional families that cross multiple borders may face instances of state paternalism or even cultural imperialism in their interactions with public officials. 34 K.A and Others v. Belgische Staat, C-82/16 [2018] CJEU; see also the Opinion of Attorney General Sharpston (October 26, 2017). 35 This oft-cited formulation is drawn from Ruiz Zambrano v. Office national de l'emploi , C-34/09, [2011] ECR I-1177, para. 45. 36 K.A and Others, supra note 34, at para. 72. 37 Zhu and Chen v. Secretary of State for the Home Department, C-200/02, [2004] ECR I-9951. 38 The image of multiple gates of admission is drawn from Tomas Hammer. For further discussion, see Ayelet Shachar, Bordering Migration/Migrating Borders, Berkeley J. Int. L. (2019). 39Ayelet Shachar, The Birthright Lottery: Citizenship and Global Inequality (Harvard University Press 2009). 40 If new family structures created by individuals who belong to different countries are not recognized by the law, or if their members are not granted a right to family reunification, they will be deprived—on account of national origin or the persistence of regulated borders—from enjoying each other’s company and sharing the range of concrete, lived experiences, whether tedious or joyous, that are part and parcel of family life, and which others who do not belong to transnational families can expect to fulfill without hindrance in a democratic society. 41 EUR-Lex, Summaries of EU Legislation, Family Reunification, EUR-Lex I33118 – EN, http://eur-lex.europa.eu/legal-content/EN/TXT/?uri=LEGISSUM%3Al33118. 42 European Council, Migration and Home Affairs, Family Reunification, https://ec.europa.eu/home-affairs/what-we-do/policies/legal-migration/family-reunification_en. 43 Ran Hirschl, Opting Out of ‘Global Constitutionalism,’ 12 L. Ethic. Hum. Right. 1 (2018). 44 As critics have pointed out, chain migration is used in the U.S. debate as a pejorative term for family reunification. 45 If the sponsor cannot meet the financial qualification, the income of other family members can be counted toward the fulfilment of the requirement, or another eligible person (a citizen or permanent resident living in the United States who is at least 18 years old) can jointly sponsor the family’s relatives. 46Michael Walzer, Spheres of Justice: A Defense of Pluralism and Equality 19 (Basic Books 1983). 47 For further discussion, see Ayelet Shachar, Citizenship, in Oxford Handbook of Comparative Constitutional Law 1002–19 (Michel Rosenfeld & Andras Sajo eds., Oxford University Press 2012). 48 fn 9 (emphasis added). 49 The Danish requirements for family reunification are communicated to potential applicants by the Danish Immigration Service, seehttps://www.nyidanmark.dk/en-GB/You-want-to-apply/Family/Family-reunification/Spouse-or-cohabiting-partner 50Id. at 165. 51 Certain countries, for example, prohibit sponsorship where the applying sponsor has been found guilty of assault causing grievous bodily harm or domestic violence involving a former spouse/partner. They might also impose a “freeze period” of five years if the same person makes subsequent family unification requests. 52Gender, Migration Data Portal, https://migrationdataportal.org/themes/gender. The Migration Data Portal is managed and developed by IOM’s Global Migration Data Analysis Centre. 53Labour Migration, Migration Data Portal, https://migrationdataportal.org/themes/labour-migration. 54 Jennifer Gordon, Regulating the Human Supply Chain, 102 Iowa L. Rev. 445–504 (2017). 55Labour Migration, supra note 53. © The Author(s) 2019. Published by Oxford University Press and the Hebrew University of Jerusalem. All rights reserved. For permissions, please email: journals.permissions@oup.com This article is published and distributed under the terms of the Oxford University Press, Standard Journals Publication Model (https://academic.oup.com/journals/pages/open_access/funder_policies/chorus/standard_publication_model)
TI - Disruptive Innovation: Family Migration and Gender Justice
JO - Jerusalem Review of Legal Studies
DO - 10.1093/jrls/jlz004
DA - 2019-12-01
UR - https://www.deepdyve.com/lp/oxford-university-press/disruptive-innovation-family-migration-and-gender-justice-saUiQxaw0R
SP - 13
VL - 20
IS - 1
DP - DeepDyve
ER -