Investment Citizenship is not Active Citizenship

Last July, Egypt’s parliament approved legislation that allows wealthy foreign investors to become Egyptian, becoming the second Arab country after Jordan to offer such a path to citizenship. Citizenship-by-investment (CBI) schemes are popping up across the globe as states compete to attract foreign investment. But their spread to the Arab world, where citizenship is being redefined, comes with its own particular considerations. As the Jordanian context shows, opening citizenship to investors puts economic goals ahead of social cohesion and democratisation.

In February 2018, the Jordan amended its nationality law to grant citizenship to foreigners who make a significant investment in the country. The government offers investors five different routes to citizenship (updated in November 2018), ranging from a three-year investment of $1 million in Jordanian SMEs to registering a $2 million investment project inside the capital Amman. Turkey, the first country in the region to introduce a CBI scheme in 2017, was quick to lower its own requirements and undercut the Jordanian offer. Egypt, by offering its passport in exchange for $420,000 dollars in bank deposits and a $10,000 fee, has upped the ante.

The Middle Eastern states join the ranks of over twenty countries that sweeten the deal for investors with a second citizenship, and contribute to a booming multibillion dollar industry of consultants, advisors, and lawyers. Those making the big bucks are quick to point out that the practice is not new, having been around since Saint Kitts and Nevis was first to put its passport on the market in 1984. Some even trace it back to revolutionary France or ancient Rome and their practice of granting citizenship to deserving foreigners. But with more countries than ever on the bandwagon, alarm bells have gone off and watchdogs and journalists are sounding the dangers of money laundering and tax evasion.

These are serious concerns. But the spread of CBI schemes digs even deeper, to the very foundations of what it means to be a citizen. At its basis, citizenship is a contract between a state and the people under its authority. It guarantees a certain set of rights and obligations to every citizen on the mere condition of their citizenship. This principle is enshrined in Article 6 of the Jordanian constitution. However, in a world of nationalist and democratic aspirations, citizenship often means much more.

In the modern nation-state, citizenship typically implies a sense of attachment to a homeland and a wider community. A Jordanian is not simply a contractual member of the Hashemite Kingdom, but someone who also feels an intimate connection to Jordan and to other Jordanians. This is the message behind the ‘Jordan First’ campaign launched in 2002. And government-issued civics textbooks stress the notion of intimaa’ lil-watan (belonging to the homeland) as a core component of citizenship.

Democratic citizenship, meanwhile, entails involvement in the politics of the community. Since the Arab Spring shook the Jordanian status quo and put pressure for speedier democratisation, the royal court has adopted the promotion of “active citizenship” as its official brand. State messaging teems with exhortations that Jordanians actively and collectively contribute to building the nation’s future, whether at the ballot box or through volunteer work. In this view, the good citizen is one who is actively invested in the nation based on a sense of mutual interest and shared values with her fellow Jordanians.

By promising citizenship as return on investment, Jordan’s leaders distract from these lofty cohesive and democratic messages and prioritise an economic agenda. Other than the hefty monetary requirement and a security clearance, the law stipulates no further criteria for wealthy foreigners to become Jordanian. No sense of belonging or shared values are necessary, only value added to the economy. This citizenship is the stuff of money, not social cohesion or democracy.

The mere amendment of the stringent nationality law makes clear that economic goals trump all. As in many Arab states, Jordanian citizenship is inherited patrilineally and very rarely is it acquired through naturalisation. The hundreds of thousands of refugees born in the kingdom have no claim to citizenship––even if their mothers are Jordanian. Activists for women’s rights have long campaigned to change this, unsuccessfully. The issue has been a nonstarter, a third-rail in Jordanian identity politics. The new measures, however, make it possible for any Palestinian, Syrian, Iraqi, or Yemeni national, along with their spouse and children, to claim a passport––provided they have enough in the bank.

Of course, the significant contribution these investors make to the country should not be downplayed. With a small, resource-poor economy that is wholly dependent on foreign aid, increased foreign investment would be a godsend for Jordan as it seeks to transform its economy and leverage its human capital. The kingdom has yet to bounce back from a global financial crisis and neighbouring wars that flattened GDP growth and dried up inflows of foreign direct investment. And after all, Jordanian students also learn in civics class that attracting foreign investment is of the utmost importance to national security and ensuring equal opportunities for all citizens. In a sense, generous investment in a time of economic emergency could be considered an incredible show of civic participation.

Yet, a monetary investment––no matter how large––is not by definition a public service. Some of the kingdom’s biggest foreign-funded development projects, like the Jordan Gate Towers and the Abdali Boulevard, have been divisive and drawn public consternation. In exchange for a passport, Jordanian authorities do not require investments to be anything but self-interested. In fact, the Investment Commission advertises attractive tax incentives, and Jordan’s is perhaps the first CBI scheme to offer interest on the purchase of treasury bonds as a path to citizenship. No one expects investments to be selfless. Just the same, they cannot be taken to demonstrate civic commitment.

Citizenship is a horizontal relationship between members of the polity, predicated on a common destiny and stake in the collective well-being. Capital investment might be risky, but it’s a solitary game.

Jordan most certainly faces a national crisis of economic insecurity, and that crisis should be of concern to every citizen. But developing the economy should not take precedence over building a cohesive and democratic society. Reducing “active citizenship” to economic value added only cheapens the value of citizenship as a whole.