New Transnational Social Spaces: International Migration and Transnational Companies in the Early Twenty-first Century (Transnationalism)

New Transnational Social Spaces

Everyday life and social structures increasingly span long distances and several places. Following the major globalization debates of the last few decades, transnationalism is now one of the most important and promising approaches at the beginning of the twenty-first century. Transnationalism maintains a global view, but allows for empirical analysis of coherent social, political, economic and cultural phenomena that span different national “container societies”; it permits re-entry of actors, of social groups and social movements in the effort to explain the ongoing changes which people, institutions and countries are experiencing today. The focus on transnational social spaces represents a macro-embedded, mesoand micro-level approach. New Transnational Social Spaces conceptualizes the contemporary relationship between the Social and the Spatial which has emerged with new communication and transportation technologies, alongside the massive transnational movement of people. Terms such as globalization, virtual reality, cyberspace, or telemanagement indicate that the reciprocal exclusivity of geographic and social space is changing in two ways: first, different social spaces with no previous geographic overlap or relationship to one another can become “stacked” within one and the same geographic space; second, one social space can now expand over several geographic spaces. Transnational social spaces are pluri-local, durable and dense configurations of social practices, systems of symbols and artifacts that span places in different countries. This important cutting-edge volume brings together completely up-todate theoretical and empirical research, focusing on international migration and international business. It reveals new social and political challenges for social scientists as well as for politicians and other professional practitioners. Ludger Pries is Professor of Sociology, Ruhr University, Bochum; his latest edited collection is Migration and Transnational Social Spaces.

Transnationalism Series editor: Steven Vertovec University of Oxford

“Transnationalism” broadly refers to multiple ties and interactions linking people or institutions across the borders of nation-states. Today myriad systems of relationship, exchange and mobility function intensively and in real time while being spread across the world. New technologies, especially involving telecommunications, serve to connect such networks. Despite great distances and notwithstanding the presence of international borders (and all the laws, regulations and national narratives they represent), many forms of association have been globally intensified and now take place paradoxically in a planet-spanning yet common arena of activity. In some instances transnational forms and processes serve to speed up or exacerbate historical patterns of activity, in others they represent arguably new forms of human interaction. Transnational practices and their consequent configurations of power are shaping the world of the twenty-first century. This book forms part of a series of volumes concerned with describing and analysing a range of phenomena surrounding this field. Serving to ground theory and research on “globalization”, the Routledge book series on “Transnationalism” offers the latest empirical studies and ground-breaking theoretical works on contemporary socio-economic, political and cultural processes which span international boundaries. Contributions to the series are drawn from Sociology, Economics, Anthropology, Politics, Geography, International Relations, Business Studies and Cultural Studies. The series is associated with the Transnational Communities Research Programme of the Economic and Social Research Council (see http://www.transcomm.ox.ac.uk). The series consists of two strands: Transnationalism aims to address the needs of students and teachers, and these titles will be published in hardback and paperback. Titles include: Culture and Politics in the Information Age A new politics? Edited by Frank Webster Routledge Research in Transnationalism is a forum for innovative new research intended for a high-level specialist readership, and the titles will be available in hardback only. Titles include: 1 New Transnational Social Spaces International migration and transnational companies in the early twenty-first century Edited by Ludger Pries

2 Transnational Muslim Politics Reimagining the Umma Peter G.Mandaville

New Transnational Social Spaces International migration and transnational companies in the early twenty-first century

Edited by Ludger Pries

London and New York

First published 2001 by Routledge 11 New Fetter Lane, London EC4P 4EE Simultaneously published in the USA and Canada by Routledge 29 West 35th Street, New York, NY 10001 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group This edition published in the Taylor & Francis e-Library, 2003. © 2001 Ludger Pries for selection and editorial matter; individual contributors their contributions All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilized in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data New transnational social spaces: international migration and transnational companies in the early twenty-first century/edited by Ludger Pries. p. cm.—(Transnationalism) Includes bibliographical references and index. 1. Emigration and immigration. 2. International business enterprises. I. Pries, Ludger. II. Series. JV6032.N49 2000 304.8’2–dc21 00–058261 ISBN 0-203-46939-9 Master e-book ISBN

ISBN 0-203-77763-8 (Adobe eReader Format) ISBN 0-415-23736-X (Print Edition)

Contents

vii xi

Notes on contributors Acknowledgements

PART I Introduction 1 The approach of transnational social spaces: responding to new configurations of the social and the spatial

3

LUDGER PRIES

PART II International migration and transnational social spaces 2 Comparing local-level Swedish and Mexican transnational life: an essay in historical retrieval

37

ROBERT C.SMITH

3 Disaggregating transnational social spaces: gender, place and citizenship in Mexico-US transnational spaces

59

LUIN GOLDRING

4 Transnational families: institutions of transnational social space FERNANDO HERRERA LIMA

v

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Contents

5 Shifting spaces: complex identities in Turkish-German migration

94

JEFFREY JURGENS

PART III International companies and transnational social spaces 6 Pluri-local social spaces by telecooperation in international corporations?

115

RALF REICHWALD AND KATHRIN MÖSLEIN

7 Pluri-local social spaces in global operating German companies

134

HERMANN KOTTHOFF

8 The transnationalization of companies and their industrial relations

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JÜRGEN KÄDTLER AND HANS-JOACHIM STERLING

9 Co-ordination and control in transnational business and non-profit organizations

164

JÖRG FLECKER AND RUTH SIMSA

PART IV The future of transnational social spaces 10 Cracked casings: notes towards an analytics for studying transnational processes

187

SASKIA SASSEN

Index

209

Contributors

Jörg Flecker is Scientific Director of FORBA (Working Life Research Center), Vienna. His research fields are work organization, industrial relations, and internationalization. Recent publications include “The End of Institutional Stability: What future for the ‘German model’?” in: Economic and Industrial Democracy, vol. 20, no. 1 (1999) (together with Th.Schulten); and Jenseits der Fachzwanglogik, Berlin: edition sigma 1997. [Email: [email protected]] Luin Goldring is Associate Professor of Sociology at York University, Ontario. Her fields of research are Mexico-US transnational migration, citizenship, immigrant incorporation, agrarian studies, and development. Recent publications include “The Mexican State and Transmigrant Organizations: Negotiating the boundaries of membership and participation in the Mexican nation” in: Latin American Research Review (forthcoming, 2001); “Desarrollo, Migradólares y la Participación ‘Ciudadana’ de los Norteños en Zacatecas” in Miguel Moctezuma and Héctor Rodríguez Ramírez (eds), Impacto de la Migración y las Remesas en el Crecimiento Económico Regional. México, Mexico DF: CONACYT and UAZ 2000; and “Power and Status in Transnational Social Spaces” in Ludger Pries (ed.) Transnationale Migration, special issue of Soziale Welt, Baden-Baden: Nomos Verlag 1997. [Email: [email protected]] Fernando Herrera Lima is a sociologist/anthropologist and Professor in the Sociology of Work postgraduate program of the Sociology Department at the Universidad Autónoma Metropolitana, Mexico DF. His fields of interest are the automobile industry, labour markets, and international migration. Recent publications include Migration laboral internacional: transnacionalidad del espacio social, Mexico DF: BUAP 1997 (edited with Saúl Macías). [Email: ffhl@prodigy. net.mx] Jeffrey Jurgens is a doctoral candidate in the Department of Anthropology at the University of Michigan, Ann Arbor. He is currently conducting field research in Berlin for his dissertation, which deals with social-economic

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Contributors

mobility and ethnic identity among Turkish and Kurdish migrants in Germany. [Email: [email protected]] Jürgen Kädtler is Senior Research Fellow at the Sociological Research Institute at the University of Göttingen. His main work fields are industrial relations, sociology of work and organizations, and new technologies in industry and services. He has published Gewerkschaften und Arbeitslosigkeit, Göttingen: SOVEC 1986; Sozialpartnerschaft und Industriepolitik, Opladen: Westdeutscher Verlag 1997 (with H.H.Hertle); and Betriebsräte in Ostdeutschland, Opladen: Westdeutscher Verlag 1997 (with G.Kottwitz and R. Weinert). Hermann Kotthoff is Sociologist and Director of the Institute for Social Research and Social Economy (ISO) Saarbrücken, as well as being a Lecturer at the Technics University of Darmstadt. His main research fields are management sociology, industrial relations, and sociology of work. Recent publications include Betriebsräte und Bürgerstatus: Wandel und Kontinuität betrieblicher Mitbestimmung, München/Mering: Hampp 1994; and Vom Kombinat zum Kleinbetrieb: Die Entstehung einer mittelständischen Industrie—Ein deutschtschechischer Vergleich, Berlin: Sigma 1999 (with Ingrid Matthäi). [Email: [email protected]] Kathrin Möslein is Researcher at the Chair for General and Industrial Management, University of Technology, Munich; her main fields of research are distributed organizations, service innovation and media economics. Among her publications are Telekooperation: Verteilte Arbeits- und Organisationsformen, Berlin, Heidelberg and New York: Springer-Verlag, 2nd ed., 2000 (with R.Reichwald, H.Sachenbacher and H.Engelberger), and “The Location Problem in Electronic Business: Evidence from Exploratory Research”, in Proceedings of the 34th Hawaii International Conference on System Sciences (H IC S S–3 4), Maui, Hawaii: I E E E 2001. [Email: [email protected]; Website: http://www.aib.ws.tum.de/moeslein] Ludger Pries is Professor of Sociology, Ruhr-University Bochum. His main study fields are the sociology of work and organizations, and international migration in comparative perspective. Recent books are Auf dem Weg zu Global Operierenden Konzernen? BMW, Mercedes-BenzundVolkswagenDiedreiGroßenderdeutschen Automobilindustrie,München/Mering: Hampp 1999; Globalisierung und Industrielle Beziehungen in Lateinamerika in vergleichender Perspektive, Münster: Westfälisches Dampfboot 1999 (with Rainer Dombois); and Migration and Transnational Social Spaces; Aldershot: Ashgate 1999 (editor). [Email: [email protected]]

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Ralf Reichwald holds the Chair for General and Industrial Management at the University of Technology, Munich. His main fields of research are empirical research of organizational structures; application-oriented development and implementation of new technologies; new structures in organizations, with particular reference to the use of new information and communication technologies (electronic business, telecooperation, service innovation). His publications include more than 300 original papers, 25 books and diverse presentations and keynotes on international conferences, e.g. Die grenzenlose Unternehmung—Information, Organisation und Management, Wiesbaden: Gabler, 4th ed., 2001 (with A.Picot and R.Wigand; English edition: Information, Organization, and Management: Expanding Markets and Corporate Boundaries, Chichester: John Wiley and Sons 1997; Japanese edition: Tokyo: Zeimukeirikyoukai 2000). [Email: [email protected]/Website: http:// www.aib.ws.tum.de] Saskia Sassen is Professor of Sociology at the University of Chicago and Centennial Visiting Professor, London School of Economics. Her books have been translated into ten languages. The most recent is Guests and Aliens, New York: The New Press 1999; others include Globalization and its Discontents, New York: The New Press 1998. Being reissued in updated editions in 2000 are The Global City (Princeton NJ: Princeton University Press) and Cities in a World Economy (Thousand Oaks: Pine Forge/Sage). Her edited book Cities and their Cross-border Networks sponsored by the United Nations University, will appear in 2001. Ruth Simsa is Lecturer and Researcher at the Institute for Sociology, University of Economics and Business Administration, Vienna. Her field of research is non-profit organizations, their role in society; and their management. Recent publications include Gesellschaftliche Funktionen und Einflussformen von NPOs, Frankfurt/New York: Peter Lang 2000, and Fighting Heroes, Repair-workers or Collaborators?: Potential and modes of impact on society by non-profit organizations, prepared for the Fourth ISTR Conference Abstracts Volume 2000. [Email: [email protected]] Robert C.Smith, Assistant Professor of Sociology at Barnard College, New York, works mainly in the field of transnational migration, comparative migration history and systems in North America and Europe. Recent publications include “Transnational Localities: Technology, community the politics of membership within the context of Mexico-US migration” in Journal of Urban and Comparative Research 1998; “Current Dilemmas and Future Prospects of the Inter-American Migration System” in Aristide Zolberg and Peter Benda (eds), Global Migration and US Policy, Oxford/New York: Berghan Press 1997; and “Transnational Migration, Assimilation and Political Community” in Marg aret Crahan and Alberto

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Vourvoulias-Bush (eds), The City and the World New York: Council on Foreign Relations 1997. Hans-Joachim Sperling is Senior Research Fellow at the Sociological Research Institute at the University of Göttingen. His main working fields are industrial relations, sociology of work and organizations, new technologies in industry and services. Related publications include Restrukturierung von Unternehmens- und Arbeitsorganisation: Eine Zwischenblianz, Marburg: Schüren 1997; Neue Technologien in der Verhandlungsarena: Schweden, Großbritannien und Deutschland im Vergleich, München-Mering: Rainer Hampp 1997 (with W. Müller-Jentsch and I. Weyrather); and “The Reorganization of Work as a Challenge for Works Councils and Trade Unions”, in R.Hoffmann et al. (eds), The German Model of Industrial Relations between Adaption and Erosion, Düsseldorf: Hans-Böckler-Stiftung 1998 (with W.Müller-Jentsch), pp. 75–82.

Acknowledgements

The basic conceptual ideas and first empirical findings and “feelings” of Transnational Social Spaces were developed in a research project on Mexico-US labour migration that was funded by the Mexican National Council on Science and Technology (CONACYT) and the Autonomous Metropolitan University/ Mexico City. I appreciate the fruitful discussions with my colleagues Fernando Herrera and Saúl Macías, and also with research assistants Marcia Campillo, Patricia García, Gustavo López and María Luisa Cortés. I am also indebted to the participants at an international conference on “The Emergence of New Transnational Social Spaces”, organized at the University of Göttingen in March 1999 and sponsored by the Volkswagen Foundation. The greater part of the chapters in this book were presented and discussed there. The chapter written by Saskia Sassen is a revised and expanded version originally published in: Janet L.Abu-Lughod, (ed.), 2000: Sociology of the Twenty-first Century: Continuities and cutting edges (©1999 by The University of Chicago. All rights reserved.). Finally I give thanks to Doug Massey and all the members of the Mexican Migration Program for a very fruitful month at the University of Pennsylvania in Philadelphia. Special thanks to Beth Fussell of the University of Pennsylvania for critical reading and suggestions on content and language and to Morgan Hangartner of the University of Göttingen for assistance in linguistic editing. Considering the scope of its research objects, the underlying funding, and the locations of those who have co-operated to produce it, this volume definitely was born in a transnational social space. Cologne, March 2000

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Part I

Introduction

1 The approach of transnational social spaces Responding to new configurations of the social and the spatial Ludger Pries

Moving in small social bands through unmarked geographic spaces is the way of living of less than 0.01 percent of the current world population, but hunting and gathering stands for more than 99 percent of the history of mankind. Thinking social living in terms of nation-state-bounded containers will result as a short episode in the development of the social-spatial practices of humanity—even if we do not know yet the kinds of social bindings that will replace them.

The weakening of nations and the emergence of transnational social spaces The turn of a century and also of a millennium invites general reflections on long-term social development. One of the more general patterns of social change we are currently witnessing seems to be a fundamental rearrangement of the relation between geographic and social spaces. For centuries the mutual embeddedness of social practices, symbols and artifacts in uni-local geographic “containers” have predominated. Today this complete conjunction of the social and the spatial is questionable in two ways. “Stacked” social spaces could exist in a single geographic space, and social spaces could extend over more than one of the coherent geographic container spaces of different national societies. This volume focuses on the latter possibility: the emergence of pluri-locally spanned transnational social spaces as social realities and entities that grow up either from the grassroots by international migration or through a complex top-down and bottom-up process brought about by international business companies. To understand the ongoing changes in social-spatial relations it is worth looking at the past. The history of mankind has always been, in addition, the history of emerging and changing combinations of social and geographic space. Geographic or spatial entities with frontiers and borders only exist as human constructs. They are conditions for, and results of, social action and everyday life. The social configuring of geographic space, continuously evolving, is one main reason for conflicts and war. The tendency to perceive social reality in terms of geographically coherent and sovereign politico-cultural entities began on the European continent with the famous Peace of Westphalia of October 10, 1648. 3

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This agreement between the European empires put an end to one-and-a-half centuries of severe political and religious battles. The Peace of Westphalia confirmed the Religious Peace of Augsburg of 1555, which was summarized in the slogan, cuius regio, eius religio (subjects must follow the religion of their ruler). In effect, it has taken us nearly half a millennium to recognize the territory of princes and then of nations as the ultimate geographic unit for the legitimate, public regulation of “social space”. This did not mean that there were no more wars or violent conflicts between sovereign empires and nation-states. But, to a growing extent, these conflicts concerned only the boundaries of territories—not the principle of territorial sovereignty, which Max Weber defined as the monopoly of the use of “legitimate physical force”. The coinciding of geographic and socialpolitical space as reflected in the principle of territorial sovereignty was the major rationale of the emerging nation-states. Whether seen as a liberaldemocratic model based on a contract between autonomous individuals, a la Hobbes, or as the outcome and precondition of war, a la Foucault, in recent centuries the nation-state has increasingly been projected and accepted as the mutual embeddedness of geographic space and social space: in one geographic space (the state) there exists one single social space (the nation), and each social space (nation) has and needs just one geographic space (state). After World War I and World War II the League of Nations and the United Nations were born, and a new set of universal “human rights” was defined. New international organizations such as the General Agreement on Trade and Tariffs (GATT) and the World Trade Organization (WTO) were also established and became increasingly involved in defining the rules and mechanisms of interchange and interaction between the ever-growing number of sovereign nation-states and national societies. Independently of ethnic, linguistic and cultural heterogeneity, the basic idea of geographic spaces as territorial “containers” for the sovereign regulation of social spaces was not questioned, and was only strengthened by the anti-colonial process of nation-building in Africa, Asia and Latin America during the twentieth century. Violent ethnic conflicts and “wars of low intensity” in the last decade of the past century, such as those in Somalia, Iraq, and the Balkans, revealed nationstates as only “imagined communities” (Anderson 1983) that could consist of patchworks of very different ethnic groups and social spaces. Nations as socio-spatial “containers” became more and more “perforated” and “punctured”—both empirically and as a matter of perception. On the one hand, the nationstate and the national society is weakened “from below”, as a result of strengthened local and micro-regional authority, as in the case of the tax boycott of the Belo Horizonte state in Brazil or the new Scottish parliament. On the other hand, nations are weakened “from above”, through the development of macroregional and global networks and federations, such as the European Union. Not until the end of the twentieth century did international intervention in national conflicts, as in Africa or the former Yugoslavia, challenge directly the relation between the principles of national sovereignty and of global human rights. Politically, one of the most important ideas of the last two centuries—the notion of

The approach of transnational social spaces

5

sovereign nation-states and national societies—is going to be questioned and differentiated amongst local, micro-regional, national, macro-regional and global authorities (Habermas 1999). The mutual embeddedness of geographic space and social space in the concept of “national container-societies” is challenged not only at a political level, but also by economic, ecological and cultural globalization. In the last quarter of the twentieth century the international flows of goods and capital increasingly broke down the notion of sovereign nation-states. Chernobyl made clear that ecological risks—even if originating at a regional or national level—could affect people globally. The term McDonaldization pointed at modes of consumption (of food, movies, and TV) spread all over the world. The leading idea of this volume is that, besides the political, economic, ecological and cultural weakening of the nation-state and the national society there are genuine social relations and social spaces that cross national borders. In general terms, we understand social spaces as relatively dense and durable configurations of social practices, systems of symbols and artifacts.1 As Sassen (1998 and in this volume) has emphasized, there are no transnational economic transactions that exist independently of social relations or transnational social networks, that establish trust, security, and certainty. The same is true in the case of the globalization of political networks and social movements (see, for example, Keck and Sikkink 1998). Transnational social spaces are preconditions for and, at the same time, sedimented outcomes of, the globalization process. Therefore we have to analyse the development of transnational social relations and the changing relationship between “geographic space” and “social space” within a historical context. At the turn of the millennium we are witnessing a dialectic disembedding of geographic and social space. On the one hand, very different social spaces that formerly were mutually exclusive in geographic terms can now become “stacked” within one and the same geographic space. Of course, different social spheres, such as the different estates (Stände) in feudal structures or social classes, could always be distinguished within a single specific geographic space, but these social spheres were always directly linked to each other within one and the same social space, through shared world views or religious and cultural practices. In contrast, in global cities, for example, there is no single social sphere that is unified by shared world views or religious and cultural practices (Sassen 1991; Eade 1997). A global city is an agglomeration of distinct social spaces existing within the same geographic area. These “stacked” social spaces do not necessarily interact intensively with each other, nor do they structure or define themselves by referring to each other (for example ethnically and culturally distinct groups of migrant labourers). These social spaces could have stronger ties with social spaces in geographic spaces other than their own. Therefore, in addition to different social spaces being “stacked” within the same geographic space, a social space can also expand over several geographic spaces. New forms of international migration and the intensified activities of international companies, amongst other causes, can thus bring about the establishment of

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transnational social spaces. Such spaces have a multipolar geographic orientation, rather than one limited exclusively to a single coherent geographic space. Historically, such pluri-locally integrated entities, composed of artifacts, modes of social interaction, and symbolic systems are certainly nothing new. The Catholic Church, for example, is an internationally active organization that has possessed a pluri-local social structure and set of dynamics for almost two thousand years. But the argument is that at the turn of the century the existence of pluri-local transnational social spaces is no longer a marginal characteristic of a few very special people and groups. Due to the push of new communication and transportation technologies and the pull of globalized movements of people, artifacts, and symbolic systems, the pluri-local expansion of social spaces and the stacking of different social spaces in the same geographic space are becoming mass phenomena. The congruence of geographic and social spaces has begun to diminish greatly. Transnational migration and globally operating enterprises are not the only forces leading to the emergence of transnational social spaces, but they are probably the most important. In the following sections we will first give some examples of phenomena which we can only understand and explain adequately with reference to durable transnational social relations and transnational social spaces. Then we will discuss transnational social spaces with reference to three important concepts; the world system theory, the world society theory, and the globalization approach. This leads us to the discussion of our underlying understandings of “social space” and “geographic space”. Finally, we will define in more detail the nature of transnational social spaces and discuss the tasks pending for the future.

Why do we need to focus on transnational social spaces? What we see depends on the lens through which we view it; we may see a lawn, trees, and some holes in the ground, but not the golf course to which these parts belong. Changing social reality forces us to develop new theoretical concepts and empirical research focusing on frameworks of social practices, symbols and artifacts that, on the one hand, supersede the national container societies and, on the other hand, do not dissolve into the empty air. Most of traditional paradigms and ways of doing research are unable to detect transnational social realities as pluri-local social spaces. As Portes and Landolt (1999) point out, we first have to “establish the phenomenon”. They speak of transnationalism, and in the same volume of Ethnic and Racial Studies Vertovec (1999) distinguishes six notions of transnationalism: as a social morphology, as a type of consciousness, as a mode of cultural reproduction, as an avenue of capital, as a site of political engagement, and as a (re)construction of “place” or locality. We prefer the term “transnational social space” and will develop this concept by “doing the rounds” of empirical descriptions and theoretical reflections. The following examples of our own

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research give some empirical hints on what is the phenomenon to establish (see Macías and Herrera 1997; Pries 1996, 1998 and 1999a). What if a migrant from Mexico five or ten times in his or her life moves to work in the USA, and not for seasonal periods of weeks or months but for some years at a time? What if half of this migrant’s family lives on the Mexican side of the border and the other half lives “on the other side”? How do we explain such a scenario by using traditional theories of emigration or immigration? What if, some years after having analysed the structure of a family of migrants for the first time, we find that half of the members continue to live in Mexico, and half of them in the USA, but that individual family members have relocated from one country to the other (without a clear and unidirectional movement from Mexico to the USA)? Would it make sense to refer to this family as a family of immigrants (or emigrants), or is the term “transnational family” more appropriate? If not only the “objective” work trajectories and life-cycles, as sequences of occupational, family and residential positions, but also the “subjective” life planning and biographical projects of individuals and social groups span places and locales in different nation-states, how can we explain these phenomena within the framework of national container-societies? What if a family’s primary means of social positioning, and its set of values and orientations, are based on a multidimensional framework with roots in more than one national society? How can we develop an appropriate research method that will take into account nationally bounded social structures and means of social mobility as well as transnational arrangements of social practices, and symbols? How should we explain the existence of material artifacts such as high-tech telegraph stations in isolated Mexican deserts, the large number of money-order offices on Amsterdam Avenue in New York, and the fax and video equipment in Mexican migrant households in the USA and Mexico? More importantly, how can we explain the existence of such material artifacts without having an idea of the everyday transnational social practices that give meanings to these material objects? Obviously there are a lot of “things” that could serve as indicators of transnational social practices and that, vice versa, could only be explained adequately in a context of transnational practices. But not every travel agent who communicates all day long with colleagues in other countries is part of a strong and highly institutionalized transnational social space. His or her family may have lived in the same town for many generations, and his or her peer group, frame of reference, and lifestyle is probably locally bound. In the case of a travel agent, there are transnational social practices in play, but there is also only a minimal amount of understanding of or empathy for foreign co-workers or business partners. Therefore, not every transnational social practice or framework of artifacts indicates the existence of densified transnational social spaces. But (as we will see later on) transnational migration—especially in the USMexican migration case—is very propulsive in the generation and strengthening of transnational social spaces. But it is not only migration that works as a driving force in the emergence of transnational social spaces. What if the top managers of the new

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DaimlerChrysler company declare one part of their income in Germany and the other part in the USA? What if the new DaimlerChrysler consortium tries to homogenize its global structures of leadership, its global portfolio of status positions and its global structures of income distribution? Even if there will be no common system of manager remuneration for many years, disputes on these topics in the transnational company will be new driving forces for an emerging new social sphere that exists above the nation-state-bounded organizational contexts of the former Chrysler and Daimler-Benz companies. Could we understand the logic behind the actions of a manager in the international procurement and logistics department of an automobile or chemistry company without taking into account the transnational social spaces that establish a framework of trust, understanding and mutual commitment? Would we be able to perceive the most important things happening in a globally operating company merely by conducting “international comparisons” of single locales or plants? Is a company’s international configuration the sum of its individual units, or is it sufficiently represented by its headquarters? Or are there social practices, settings, and symbols which can not be understood by studying an individual locale alone? Despite many variations in the degree of internationalization and the variety of types of international companies, no international company seems to operate without some form of transnational social space, even if it is occupied predominantly by a small group of ethnocentric, top-level managers (see Pries 1999b and the chapters in Part III of this volume). These examples indicate the need for a theoretical and analytical term such as “transnational social space”. At first sight, we could define transnational social spaces as dense, stable, pluri-local and institutionalized frameworks composed of material artifacts, the social practices of everyday life, as well as systems of symbolic representation that are structured by and structure human life. So, the argument is that there are “social facts” (as defined by Emile Durkheim), “interlacing coherence networks” (in the words of Norbert Elias) or “social routinised practices” (in Anthony Giddens’ terms) that transcend, in a socially relevant manner, the unit of analysis set by nation-states and national societies and at the same time are real pluri-local social practices, artifacts and symbols. Although all this sounds obvious and is easy to accept at first glance, we should not take it for granted. In fact, we probably still need another decade to fully realize that the social sciences—especially sociology—were born and grew up in a world that was characterized by the nation-state and bourgeois national societies. The theoretical reasoning and research methods of social sciences are deeply “infected” by a tendency to think of “nation states as social containers”. To take just an example, the Harper Collins Dictionary of Sociology defines society as follows: 1. 2.

the totality of human relationships. any self-perpetuating human grouping occupying a relatively bounded territory, having its more or less distinctive CU LTU RE and

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INSTITUTIONS, for example, a particular people such as the Nuer or a long-or well-established NATION-STATE, such as the United States or Britain. (1991, p. 467, capitals in original) So, in sociological terms, modern societies are nation-state-based. Likewise, when we speak of social systems, social orders, or social change, or if we analyse “structures of social inequality”, “social classes” or “ethnic minorities”, we tend to refer—quite automatically—to nation-state-bounded social entities. Anthony Giddens emphasizes the bindings between modern society and the nation-state in his Introduction to Sociology as follows: “The industrialized societies were the first nation-states to come into existence…. The United States is a nation-state, as are virtually all other societies in the world today” (Giddens 1996, p. 43). Such terms and concepts determined the ways in which we understood and perceived social reality. But at the start of our new century, social reality is changing in such a way and to such an extent that we really do need approaches that transcend national borders and focus on transnational social relations. In order not to “reinvent the wheel” it is worthwhile to review some important efforts that have already been made in this direction. Alternative “world approaches” The globalization debate of the 1980s and the 1990s was not the first time that international and transnational phenomena and driving forces were scientifically analysed. In fact at least three approaches have been used to analyse these phenomena before: the theories of World Civilization, World System, and World Society. In our considerations of current problems and challenges, we can learn something from each of these schools of thought, even though each also has severe deficiencies. Focusing on the relation of the social and the spatial, we also will reconsider recent globalization approaches. World civilization theories The world civilization approach represents an effort to identify “regions of civilization” which are older than and/or cut across the boundaries of modern nation-states. In his impressive twelve-volume Study of History, published between 1934 and 1961, Arnold Toynbee painted the history of world civilizations and— as Lewis and Wigen (1997) argued—thereby made three assumptions: (1) that a sizeable but finite number of discrete, quasi-autarkic civilizations could be identified in the human past; (2) that these constituted the appropriate subjects of world-historical analysis; and (3) that all civilizations known to the historical record had experienced essentially parallel trajectories of birth, growth, decline, and fossilization. (Lewis and Wigen 1997, p. 126)

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For Toynbee, the underlying driving force that determines a civilization’s trajectory (from birth to fossilization) is normally a new religion with universalistic cultural claims. Benjamin Nelson developed the concept of civilization complexes as parts of more general cultural patterns than those existing within political societies, and these political societies in turn, are made up of more than one nation, class or institution (see Nelson 1973). After World Wars I and II, he states, the relationship between modernity and civilization was dialectic and open, not a linear and progressive process. Sociologists and anthropologists have to take into account three different levels of analysis and configuration of geographic and social spatial configurations: the societal level, the level of the civilization itself, and the level at which intercivilization areas make intercivilization encounters possible. While Nelson thought of “civilization complexes” as more or less fluid and permeable entities, not discrete and separate regions, Huntington (1993) focused on the growing divisions and conflicts between “civilizations”, which he thought of as more or less discrete units. One important critique of Huntington’s thesis—besides its susceptibility to neo-imperialistic use—is that it underestimates internal differentiation within civilizations and the existence of mélanges and important cross-civilization social realities.2 To summarize, a focus on macro-regional civilizations as social spaces broader than national geographic spaces provides us with a historical view of long-term religious, cultural and political developments which underlie the relatively recent appearance of nation-states. But first we have to consider “civilizations” as spatially and qualitatively dynamic phenomena as well; and, second, civilizations could be and normally are multilocal and not reduced to one coherent geographic “container”. Therefore, a concept of transnational social spaces has to take into consideration social practices that span geographic macro-regions defined by predominant (but not exclusive) cultures or religions. Lewis and Wigen discuss four such social practices: (1) the “middle ground” as a type of “contested terrain” where no cultural hegemony has been established, as “a temporary, fragile, and essentially abstract cultural space…where cultures continue to negotiate on unevenly shared terrain” (p. 151), where diasporas serve as important ties which facilitate economic and cultural exchange; (2) the Diaspora constituted by “maintaining a common identity over daunting distances, such transnational communities served as important conduits for cross-cultural trade” (p. 152, see also Cohen 1997); (3) archipelagos as “‘enclaves’ of a given culture group (like) the millions of Arabic-speaking Christians scattered through the Middle East or Mandarin-speaking Muslims in the heart of China” (p. 153); and (4) the cultural matrix type of boundary-crossing social practices as something akin to cultural syncretism, hybridity or a patchwork identity. Thus, “in a matrix model, identity is a matter of one’s position in a multidimensional lattice” (p. 153).

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By using these four concepts, middle ground, Diaspora, archipelago, and matrix, we can analyse social practices and spaces that span the borders of civilizations, and gain a better understanding of transnational practices as well. World system theories World system theories were developed to counter the theorization of social spaces as national or macro-regional geographic “containers”. World system theories focus not on demarcation, but on interlacing mechanisms, overlapping regions, integration by exchange and the external driving forces of a holistic system that influences individual regions. Fernand Braudel analysed the history of what he calls the World Economy as a chain and framework of evolving dependencies between regions, which are structured by the gravitational field of a “strong, aggressive, privileged, dynamic, feared and at the same time admired state” (Braudel 1986, pp. 48, 51). According to Braudel, World Empires are established by “those superstates exclusively able to fill the whole space of a World Economy” (ibid., p. 55): for example, the Mediterranean World Economy dominated by Venice in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. In contrast to Toynbee’s perception of the world as a collection of distinct and divided civilizations, Braudel emphasizes the far-reaching economic interchanges and political subordination that exist between different cultural regions and civilizations. Immanuel Wallerstein (1986) concentrates on analysing the development of the “modern capitalist world system”, the emergence of which he places in the sixteenth century with the beginning of the European World Economy. The history of each world region has to be considered within the framework of the “modern capitalist world system” as a whole. The “genuine accumulation” in Europe is directly related to the “discovery” and exploitation of the American continent since the sixteenth century. Cultural differences and political conjunctures have to be studied and explained in the context of the underlying driving forces of the modern, world-wide capitalist economy. The different world system approaches have been criticized in at least four ways. Firstly, they have a structural-functionalist bias, since they explain history according to the functions of specific events and regions in relation to the overall structure of the world system. The structural-functionalist bias was a major topic, for example, in the Latin American dependencia discussions of the 1960s and 1970s. A second critique is that world system theories attach major importance to economic and macro aspects, and thereby subordinate cultural and political factors and forces as well as actors or groups of actors. Thirdly, these theories are Eurocentric and tell the history of the world economy and the world system from a European perspective, or from a North-Atlantic one. But how would we perceive ourselves if the history of the world system were told from the perspective of the Chinese or Hindu empires (see Lewis and Wigen 1997, pp. 137–141)? Finally, world system theories are criticized because they often have an evolutionist and/or a very partial understanding of modernity and

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modernization. “Occidental Rationalism” and liberal capitalism are presented as if they were ultimate universal principles that evolve unidirectionally over all time and all over the world. The “transnational social spaces” approach is an attempt to overcome the economic, functional and macroscopic biases of the world system theories by giving central attention to social practices, symbol systems and artifacts as empirically detectable phenomena growing “from below” that are structured by and (re)produce social institutions in pluri-local social spaces. Whereas civilization theories maintained the mutual embeddedness of social and geographic space and widened it to macro-regions, world system theories that followed similarly expanded the social-geographic container to the globe as a whole. World society theories In contrast, world society theories are normally based on a more abstract (idealistic or extremely constructivist) concept of the social. Philosophers such as Immanuel Kant spoke of a world society composed of mankind per se. More recently, Niklas Luhmann has become one of the most prominent advocates of a more elaborate concept of a world society. In Luhmann’s system-theory-oriented definition, the “social space” of society is explicitly separated from the “geographic space”. Society is characterized as the totality of all social relationships, processes, actions, and communications. … Society is, then, the comprehensive social system that incorporates all of social reality and thus has no concept of social environment…. The unity of the societal system can mean nothing more than this self-referential oneness. (Luhmann 1984, p. 555; see also 1997, p. 27f.) For Luhmann, society has no social environment, since society includes everything social. Society is nevertheless a system in an environment. It is a system with limits. These limits are constituted by the society itself. They distinguish communication from all non-communicative content and events, are therefore neither territorial nor can they be fixed to particular groups of persons…. And as a result of evolution there is in the end only one society: the global society that encompasses all communication and nothing else, thus has absolutely definite limits. (Ibid., 1984, p. 557) Luhmann can expand his concept of society and thereby encompass the entire globe because he at the same time restricts his concept of society in terms of content, by including only that which is communication. In contrast, we hold that social practices and spaces always have and need a geographic place, and

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that they are mutually interlaced with artifacts and systems of symbols. If we expand the societal sphere to include socially relevant “non-communicative content and events”, then “environment” fades away. The entire world is thereby a “cultural landscape” that is formed by human activities, and falls within sociology’s sphere of interest (see Linde 1972). Without entering into a discourse on the different concepts of world society (Albrow 1996; Pieterse 1994; Sklair 1995), it is safe to say that the “deduction” of the separation of geographic space and social space in Luhmann’s systems theory, is a matter of ex ante theoretical and conceptual definition and is not presented as an empirical analysis of specific social change at a particular time. For Luhmann, world society has existed as long as world-wide communication has been possible, and exists because worldwide communication is possible. But, since world-wide communication has been possible, theoretically speaking, for at least a thousand years, the term worldwide communication completely loses any diagnostic force. In this context, the following critique by Gregory and Urry (1985) of predominant thinking in sociology, on the one hand, and in human geography, on the other, seems to fit: The “social” was separated from the “spatial”—a profoundly Kantian dualism—and in much the same way that Durkheim had tried to secure a niche for sociology by treating its object as the explanation of social structures by intrinsically social processes, so human geography came to be defined in equally exclusive notations: as the explanation of spatial structures by intrinsically spatial processes. (Gregory and Urry 1985, p. 2) Globalization approaches Compared with the aforementioned approaches, the globalization debate of the 1980s and 1990s includes a perspective that is more dynamic than static and seems to re-include the spatial dimension in social analysis. Without discussing many globalization concepts in detail (see Sklair 1995; Waters 1995; Albrow 1996; Beck 1998; Held et al. 1999), concerning the relation of the social and the spatial, it is worthwhile to distinguish between two approaches: “globalization as the spatial widening of social relations” and “globalization as the annihilation of space”. The first concept could be exemplified by quoting Anthony Giddens: “Globalization can thus be defined as the intensification of world-wide social relations which link distant localities in such a way that local happenings are shaped by events occurring many miles away and vice versa” (Giddens 1990, p. 64). From Giddens’ point of view, the history of humankind is a more or less continuous process of evolution characterized by the spatial expansion of social relations. The socially relevant units of action—and therefore of sociological analysis as well—have widened, from the small groups of “primitive societies”, to the medieval commercial towns and feudal principalities, to the modern nationstates, to macro-regions such as the European Community, and include, finally,

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the world as a whole. Thus globalization could be conceptualized as the spatial expansion of social spaces (see also Albrow 1996; Urry 2000). In contrast to the concept of globalization as the spatial widening of social relations, the thesis of the annihilation of space focuses on the shrinking or disappearance of spatial dimensions with respect to social relations. For Robertson, “Globalisation—refers both to the compression of the world and the intensification of consciousness of the world as a whole” (Robertson 1992, p. 8). And Waters states, “We can therefore define globalisation as: A social process in which the constraints of geography on social and cultural arrangements recede and in which people become increasingly aware that they are receding” (Waters 1995, p. 3). Similarly, referring to the new communication and transportation technologies, Harvey emphasizes the “compression of our spatial and temporal worlds” (Harvey 1989, p. 240); Castells posits that “space has dissolved into flows” (cited in Kirsch 1995, p. 532); and Albrow states that organizations and institutions are “decentred and delinked” (Albrow 1996, p. 122). In both approaches—globalization as the spatial widening of social relations and globalization as the annihilation of space—geographic space is reduced in importance in the structuring of social relations and interactions. According to this reasoning: if social relations are spreading all over the globe, if spatial distances are reduced by new technologies, and if space is homogenized by its compression— then the spatial dimension begins to lack importance as a socially important variable. This argument is not so new. We find it at the beginning of the twentieth century in the work of Georg Simmel, who states that in modern (nation-statebounded) societies the socialization process (Vergesellschaftung) becomes gradually less spatially bounded than in traditional societies (Simmel 1983). So the argument that geographic space is becoming less important in the structuring of the social is as old as sociology itself, and explains in part the disregard or negligence of the spatial dimension in sociological work in general. The spatial was separated from the social in order to distance oneself from any form of geo-determinism and because of the increasing “spatial spanning capacity of socialization” (Simmel 1983, p. 233). In today’s discussion of globalization, space is often brought in only to argue that it is of little importance any longer. In contrast to such “too-global globalization thinking”, some authors such as Robertson (1994), Sassen (1998 and in this volume), Albrow et al. (1997), Guarnizo and Smith (1999), and Held et al. (1999) stress the dialectics of globalization and localization. Globalization is not possible without spatially concentrated actor and power groups and systems of artifacts, such as global cities or mighty nation-states—as Fernand Braudel also argued. Scott Kirsch has emphasized that “space is not only homogenized (and global), but always fragmented as well….space has not simply shrunk, but has (more importantly) been transformed at a variety of scales.” (Kirsch 1995, p. 532f). Therefore, a simplistic concept of globalization as the expansion of social relations and/or as the shrinking of spatial relations is misleading. To overcome such a limited perspective we have to consider various concepts of space and the relationships between “the social” and “the spatial”.

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Concepts of geographic and social space Over recent centuries, the social space—comprising the social practices of everyday life, the socially built and spatially sedimented artifacts and symbolic systems and the social institutions that structure human life—became increasingly meshed with a delimited and coherent geographic space covering a specific surface area. Coexistence amongst people and processes of socialization became more and more tied, in reciprocal exclusiveness, to more or less clearly definable and known geographic spheres. A defined space extending over a geographic area (a “territory” or “locale”) corresponded to one, and only one, socially compressed space (for example, a community or a national society). Conversely, every social space “occupied” precisely one geographically specific space. In such cases we could say that the geographic space and the social space were embedded exclusively in each other. Because of the seemingly mutually exclusive coincidence of social space and geographic space, the well known container concept of space was sufficient. Albert Einstein had used the term “container-space” to criticize the traditional concept of space developed by classical Newtonian mechanics. In this “substantial” or “absolutist” view, space has a quality of its own, exists free of concrete objects, but is nevertheless empirically real as a homogeneous and “empty” entity. Not only Einstein but (much earlier) Gottfried Leibniz as well developed a theory opposing this absolutist concept of space. Leibniz felt that space possesses no existential qualities of its own whatsoever, but is rather a configuration of material objects in geographic relations and order. This opposition of absolutist views (space as an absolute unit with its own characteristics and qualities) and relativistic concepts (space as configuration or positional relations between elements) has continued to pervade all scientific concepts of space for centuries (Gregory and Urry 1985). We suppose that during the short time that sociology has existed as a scientific discipline (about one century or so) the absolutist container approach has been dominant. From Durkheim and Simmel up to the main sociological paradigms of today, the leading framework of reference for social space has been the national society, which coincided with the geographic space of the nation-state (Urry 2000, pp. 5fl). Absolutist concepts of space are not limited to the concept of the nation-state, but can also be found—as shown above—in definitions of civilizations or ethnic and social groups in a static, ahistorical and essentialist manner. The absolutist definition of space as an entity by itself led to a “container concept” of national societies in nation-states as the most important framework for sociological analysis. One could argue that for most of the twentieth century this focus may have been sufficient. But now we need new perspectives on the relation between the social and the spatial, between the social space and the geographic space. Without succumbing to an extremely constructivist position, we have to combine “absolutist approaches” with “relativist approaches” in our studies of space, and we have to consider the spatial dimension of the social as a relatively independent analytic category (see Werlen 1993).

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The relativist approach focuses on space as a set of relations between the positions of socially important elements that structure human activities and, at the same time, are structured by human activities. The relations between the positions of socially important elements can be defined by referring to distance, spatial distribution, density, front-stage/back-stage, hierarchy and centre/periphery. In a relativist perspective, social relations are not framed in a given (container) space, but constitute space: without elements such as social practices, artifacts, and symbols, there is no socially or sociologically relevant space. In this sense, the social space of a neighborhood does not consist of the social practices and mental mapping of its inhabitants within a given geographically demarcated “container”. But the social space of a neighborhood is conceptualized as a configuration of social practices, systems of symbols and artifacts with spatial-positional relations as a genuine aspect and outcome, but not an independent precondition. Although the relativist position is absolutely adequate for certain purposes, the absolutist position is also appropriate at times. Human coexistence and social action is not possible without demarcations, boundaries, and frontiers that include and exclude. The first distinction of this type that a baby learns is the difference between the subject “self” and surrounding objects. Later on it distinguishes between “ego” and “alter”, and between “we” and “them”. Therefore, if the material conditions, social practices, beliefs, interests and/or life projects of a certain group of people are the same or highly shared, and differ strongly from those of other groups, then their social space could be considered a container (or a “relative container”). The most basic “container” in this sense is the human body and the individual “ego”. To take an extreme interpretation of a relativist concept of space, one could argue that the human body is simply a collection, or agglomeration, of interrelated material elements which form part of the broader picture encompassing all elements of the cosmos. In the same sense, the household or family and the neighbourhood or community as social spaces are “relative absolute containers”. Even if we acknowledge that the household or a specific neighborhood are the socio-spatial outcomes of social relations and processes, they become more or less objective preconditions for the everyday life of the concrete actors. To them they may appear as absolutist containers that delimit and structure their social spaces. Also at the level of nation-state and national society absolutist thinking was not completely unreasonable, but—to a certain extent—an appropriate framework in the past. Almost throughout the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries many artists, scientists, and aristocrats of Europe did not exist within the limitations of a certain region, principality, Empire, or “nation”, but had a cosmopolitan—and at that time a European—vision (see, for example, de Swaan 1995). Musicians used to travel all over Europe, the noblemen and princes of England, Prussia and the Netherlands were interconnected by marriage ties, and the official language at the Prussian court of the eighteenth century was French. But then the nineteenth and twentieth centuries were stamped by the processes of nationbuilding and nationalism. National societies worked hard to define themselves within their corresponding nation-states as social-geographic containers.

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This mutual embeddedness of geographic space and social space was a result of considerable social, cultural, political, and ideological efforts. Nation-bounded thinking was the predominant way of perceiving social order and positioning, social structures, and social change. Therefore it would be erroneous now to criticize social sciences ahistorically for having related their approaches to the nation-state and the national society. Proposing to replace the notion of the nation with the concept of globalization would be the equivalent of “throwing out the baby with the bath water”. The same would be true if we sacrificed the spatial dimension of the social completely by notions of delocalization, deterritorialization, or “abstraction of older concepts from territorial reference” (Albrow et al. 1997, p. 35). Instead, we must first be aware of the historic tendency to see the configurations of geographic and social entities as mutually and exactly overlapping. Secondly, we have to combine the various geographic frames of referencethe local, the micro-regional, the national, the macro-regional and the globalwhen analysing the social. Thinking in terms of transnational social spaces is one effort in this direction.

Concepts of transnational social spaces The term transnationalism has long—at least since the 1960s—been used in the field of political science and international relations to characterize all types of interactions and institutions above nationally bounded phenomena and international relations.3 In this perspective, the United Nations is a transnational organization, as is the European Union. In organization theory and management literature the term “transnational company” was used to characterize a certain type of international company in which the configuration of values and abilities, plants and other assets, as well as the development of knowledge, are not distributed according to the centre/periphery model but transnationally organized (Bartlett and Ghoshal 1989). Since the 1990s the concept of transnationalism and of transnational social spaces is used in anthropological and sociological studies in a quite different manner: not primarily focused on political relations and supra-national public or political organizations and institutions, but mainly on the everyday life of certain groups of people, especially migrants. We will refer here briefly to some important lines in transnational research in the fields of migration and international corporations and thereby define our understanding of transnational social spaces. With the book Towards a Transnational Perspective on Migration: Race, class, ethnicity, and nationalism reconsidered, Nina Glick Schiller, Linda Basch, and Cristina BlancSzanton promoted the discussion of transnationalism and transmigrants, “when several other scholars were independently beginning to move in the same direction” (Basch et al. 1997, p. 7). The authors argue that communities developed by international migrants in their new regions of residence are not merely “extensions” of their communities of origin. Rather, the international migrants, whose migration courses are neither one-time nor unidirectional, form

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qualitatively new social groups in new “social fields”. These new social fields build upon both the new and the former regions. They connect these regions to each other, but are at the same time more than just the sum of the two. According to Glick Schiller et al. (1992), “de-territorialised social spaces” emerge above and beyond individual concrete territorial spaces. We define “transnationalism” as the process by which immigrants forge and sustain multistranded social relations that link together their societies of origin and settlement. We call these processes transnationalism to emphasize that many immigrants today build social fields that cross geographic, cultural, and political borders. Basch et al. 1997, p. 7) The important point we share with Basch et al. (1997) is the notion of multisited “social fields” that span different nation-states. But we doubt that terms like “deterritorialized space” or “perceived deterritorialized nation-states” are adequate. It seems that the authors stop half way toward really abandoning the notion of the national container society as the basic concept. Without considering the very different forms of social spaces and the very different levels of geographic spaces, it will be quite impossible to develop the basis for a concept of transnational social spaces. A social space cannot exist without reference to a geographic space, but the emerging transnational social spaces cannot be adequately drawn in terms of, and by reference to, nation-states: “Within the situations of political and economic domination and racial and cultural differentiation, building transnational social fields and imagining a deterritorialized nation-state can be seen as a form of resistance” (Basch et al. 1997, p. 46). From our point of view, the notion of transnational social spaces would be charged with theoretical and political assumptions if we defined it as “the deterritorialized nation-state as transmigrant resistance” (ibid., p. 280). We understand transnational social spaces as configurations of social practices, artifacts and symbol systems that span different geographic spaces in at least two nation-states without constituting a new “deterritorialized” nation-state or being the prolongation of one of these nationstates (see also Guarnizo and Smith 1999, p. 9f.). The ultimate aspect leads to another concept of transnationalism. Robert Smith (1995) made an important contribution to the analysis of transnational social spaces by analysing the dynamics and interrelations of migrant groups in their places of origin and arrival. He pointed out that the receiving regions, and the corresponding everyday practices of the international migrants, could be conceived of and analysed as integral components of a transnational community. Smith defends the concept of community against postmodernist critics by stressing “the very possibility that any semblance of coherence can be created” (Smith 1995, p. 39) and arguing that transnational communities as studied in his field-work with Mexican migrants between the Mixteca Poblana region of Mexico and New York City emerge “as a political process through which conflicting images of community, claims of membership and plans for the future

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within a given migrant circuit can be (but are not necessarily) negotiated” (ibid., p. 40). And explicitly he defines (ibid., p. 55): “Transnational communities [as] local communities constituted through their own transnational political and social processes, existing within but constituted apart from the larger states and societies within which they are situated.”4 This definition goes a long way, but it provokes some critical comments. The first is that transnational social entities are or should be understood as pluri-local entities, and not only as “local communities” or local political groups that practice transnational politics. In this sense, neither the emerging transnational social practices, artifacts, and symbols, nor the migrant communities in the regions of arrival are merely extensions of the communities of origin. A second and more general argument deals with the term “community”. In sociology it is used normally to refer to locally bounded social relationships. Often it has farreaching theoretical implications in the sense of a juxtaposition of the terms community (Gemeinschaft) and society (Gesellschaft) or tradition and modernity (Ferdinand Tönnies). Just referring to Andersen’s (1983) concept of nation-states as imagined communities is small theoretical basis for “transnational communities”—the term seems to create more confusion than explanation. Another approach to transnationalism is Luin Goldring’s (1996; 1999 and in this volume) analysis of social institutions within transnational migrant networks. Goldring focuses on the functions of these transnational social institutions and their significance for the social positioning of “transmigrants” and for social conflicts (e.g., gender, local power structures). On the basis of interesting anthropological case studies she argues that these transnational institutions structure social positions in social spaces that extend across the boundaries of national societies. This means that transnational social spaces emerge and are constituted as pluri-local and transnational social entities by and through the fact that they structure their own cosmos of social orientation, positioning, struggle, and integration. Not as explicitly in the tradition of transnationalism, Massey and Espinosa (1997) refer to Coleman’s and Bourdieu’s concepts of social spaces to conduct an empirical examination of transnational migration networks in light of the theory of social capital. They are able to prove the importance of social capital which is built by and within transnational migration networks. The pluri-local knowledge, contacts and different required social abilities that transnational migrants can accumulate in their migration trajectory explains to a certain extent their work benefits and labour career. In this context it is worth stressing the fact that Bourdieu’s concept of social space is more an analogy with geographic space thinking than an explicit concept of the relations between social and geographic space. Bourdieu did not discuss broadly the relation between the social and the (geographic) spatial, rather he uses the term “social space” as a metaphor: he thinks of the processes of social positioning in terms of, and in comparison with, a threedimensional geographic space. In a very interesting and innovative perspective Ong and Nonini (1997) focus on “Chinese Transnationalism as an Alternative Modernism”. For the authors,

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“being Chinese” is not related primarily to settlement in a specific geographic space or to special ethnic assets, but “is an inscribed relation of persons and groups to forces and processes associated with global capitalism and its modernities” (ibid., p. 4). Based on the concept of a “third culture” they consider modern Chinese transnationalism to be a third culture that “arise(s) when groups face problems of intercultural communication at first hand and confront the necessity of continually moving back and forth between different cultures, each to some extent spatially defined” (Ong and Nonini 1997, p. 11). Chinese transnationalism is understood as an alternative modernity because it is based on something other than the predominant social institutions of modern Western liberal market capitalism. Family-firm behaviour and Confucian cultural beliefs and practices are essential elements of a new competitive rise of this third culture that spans different locales and territories in the era of flexible accumulation in late capitalism. In this perspective, the different chapters of the volume treat the history of Chinese transnationalism over the last three centuries, the interconnections between family, particularist social ties, and space, and the topic of shifting identities and transnational subjectivity. Although, on the one hand, the editors take up Harvey’s concept of “annihilation of space” and speak (rather questionably) of deterritorialized organizations (ibid., p. 10), on the other hand, they stress the fact that Chinese transnationalism is associated with two different forms of capitalism. The first is the building of transnational networks among second-tier global cities like Shanghai, Hong Kong or Bangkok; the second seeks alliances with the local nonChinese governments and elites in countries like Thailand or South Korea that typically are characterized by “strong repressive-developmentalist state regimes” (ibid., p. 324). The empirical case studies underline—against the aforementioned presumptions of “deterritorialization” and “annihilation of space”—the significance of geographic space and of state regulation for transnationalism. Interesting aspects of transmigration as “transnationalism from below” are presented in the volume edited by Smith and Guarnizo (1999). These authors argue that transnationalism, as a grassroots movement of people, interacts with “transnationalism from above”, the control and domination by capital and states (see also Mahler 1999). This includes arguing that transnationalism will not replace nation-states but will develop in a dialectical relationship with state policies and even sometimes with a reinforced nationalism. The authors criticize the notion of transnationalism as a boundless or deterritorialized social phenomenon and underline the significance of translocal relations as “a triadic connection that links transmigrants, the localities to which they migrate, and their locality of origin” (ibid., p. 13). They emphasize that transnational social practices are not just transitory in time, as are the ambiguous and contradictory social integration of first immigrant generation. Identity-formation of transmigrants is understood not as a free-floating process in the air, but as an emerging embedding and disembedding in different social spaces. Although we agree with a lot of the central arguments developed in Guarnizo and Smith (1999), there remain some differences. We understand transnational

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social spaces as genuine pluri-local configurations of social practices, symbol systems and artifacts, not as translocal relations in the sense of “a triadic connection that links transmigrants, the localities to which they migrate, and their locality of origin” (ibid., p. 13). Why do the authors speak of a triadic connection? The transmigrants at any moment live either in the “localities to which they migrate” or in “their locality of origin”. As we have pointed out elsewhere, transmigrants differ from emigrants and immigrants, and from return-migrants, just because they move back and forth between different places and develop their social space of everyday life, their work trajectories and biographical projects in this new and emerging configuration of social practices, symbols and artifacts that spans different places. But the notion of a “triadic connection” puts the transmigrants—even if unintentionally—in the air, outside the localities they are actually moving in and between. Another critical point is the concept of transnationalism from below and from above. Even if this distinction could have a certain heuristic function for identifying driving forces of progressive transnational social movements, the way it is discussed by Guarnizo and Smith 1999, and by Mahler 1999, is not convincing. If business companies are automatically addressed as part of transnationalism from above, how can we capture transnational everyday life of workers, employees and managers in transnational companies? And what about worker organizations and transnational forms of interest-representation in transnational companies? Could all this simply be summarized under “transnationalism from above”, along with the United Nations or international non-governmental organizations and the International Monetary Fund, in the transnationalism which “seek(s) to construct a global neoliberal contextual space, a ‘new world order’” (Guarnizo and Smith 1999, p. 7)? As Chapters 6 to 9 of this volume demonstrate, international companies can be analysed from various perspectives of transnationalism (“from below” and “from above”). Based on the critical review of approaches to transnational social spaces and on our reflections about the interrelationship of the social and the spatial, we can now set out our own understanding of “transnational social spaces”. In a very general manner, space could be defined as a configuration and positional relation of elements. For instance, given physical elements like mountains, trees or buildings, and a focus on their metric separation and local order, we speak of “geographic space”. Thus, the elements reveal certain positional patterns like equidistribution, centre/periphery concentration, matrix or linear distribution, etc. Although these elements and their metrical relations exist “objectively”, independently of any “subjective” reflection, only in the view of social actors could they be composed into a geographic “space” and a spatial “configuration”. Therefore every view and concept of space is an outcome of human reflection. Insofar as physical elements and their positional relations are the main focus, we speak of “geographic space”. Given social realities and a focus on human configurations of interrelationship, actions and mental representations, we speak of “social spaces”. Social spaces could be defined as configurations of social practices,

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artifacts and systems of symbols that are characterized and defined by their density and importance in time and geographic space. What we can observe empirically as the everyday life of people (living in households, going to school or work, consuming certain kinds of food, viewing TV or singing in a choir, practising gymnastics or falling in love) is structured by, and at the same time structures, social space—in this case the social space of everyday life. Social space as analytical category could also refer to the phenomena of a soccer-team, of a national society or a civilization. Pointing to the triad of social practices, artifacts and symbols that constitutes social and sociologically relevant entities, we try to overcome other approaches that emphasize some aspects but exclude others from those we think important just in their interlacing dialectic, configurative and mutual (re-)structuration. For instance, behaviourist theories underestimate artifacts and symbols, while system and constructivistic theories underestimate artifacts and often the routinized and power-related part of social practices. Observable social practices (in Giddens’ sense either as routines or as innovation) are structured by and restructure artifacts and systems of symbols; artifacts are sedimented results of social practices and incarnations of symbol systems, but at the same time restrict and guide social practices; systems of symbols could not exist without artifacts— artifacts as things made by human beings are the first symbols at all—nor without social practices. But at the same time as being a product of practices and artifacts, symbols structure and give meaning to them. Artifacts are geographically and spatially bounded outcomes that are structured by social processes, on the one hand, and are the force fields structuring social practices, on the other. Symbols, as collectively accepted, produced, and transmitted representations of meaning, rely on (geographic/spatially bounded) artifacts for their actualization, but can also exist in and influence a pluri-local social space (see Gregory 1997). Starting with such a broad definition of social spaces it is possible to construct socially and sociologically relevant units of analysis and reflection without the need to presuppose ultimate definitions of community, class, culture or nation. The socially and sociologically relevant units of research are those concentrated and relatively durable social spaces that structure social reality in geographic space and time. Before the Enlightenment, social spaces in Europe were reduced and narrow in geographic terms but “high” in symbolic/religious terms (Gothic architecture reflects the hope of eternity in heaven). Modernity, as secularization, “flattened” social spaces vertically (in the sense of worldly orientation of symbolic systems) and extended them horizontally to nation-states and national container societies. At the turn of the millennium globalization is reflected in the “puncturing” of these relative absolutist container spaces and the growing importance of multisited and transnational social spaces. Throughout human history different levels of dominant geographic extents of the social have existed. We could distinguish at least four levels of geographic spaces—the microregional, the national, the macro-regional and the global—that correspond to different types of predominant social spaces: community, national society, civilization/ cultural region and humanity.

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The term “transnational social space” indicates social realities of growing importance that are organized transversally to the metaphor sketched above of concentric circles with mutual embeddedness of social space and geographic space. Transnational social spaces can be understood as pluri-local frames of reference which structure everyday practices, social positions, biographical employment projects, and human identities, and simultaneously exist above and beyond the social contexts of national societies. If globalization, re-localization, localization, and “de-nationalization” (Sassen, in this volume) are important tendencies and processes, what are the structures and the outcomes of these tendencies and processes? Social relations probably become more fluid (Castells 1998; Urry 2000), but they cannot dissolve themselves and vanish into the atmosphere, or become limited to the realms of “cyberspace”. Therefore we have to determine which “geographic/spatial” units of analysis are appropriate for the study of the social or of “social spaces”. The household, the business unit, the local community and the national society are social spaces, as are soccer clubs and centres of leisure such as restaurants, cinemas and bars. Due to the changing nature of the relationship between the social and the (geographic) spatial, it no longer makes sense to focus only on social spaces that coincide perfectly with geographic spaces. Taking into account the growing uncoupling of social space and geographic space, we have to focus systematically on multi-sited or pluri-local social spaces. But a pluri-local social space does not necessarily have transnational dynamics. A family where the husband, wife, or children work or study far from “home” during the week and travel home every weekend, could be considered a pluri-local social space. Such a family has an infrastructure which is composed of artifacts (telephones, mobile phones, cars, etc.) and symbols (such as photos taken at each of the “sites” of the pluri-local space). Likewise, such a family utilizes social practices (saying “good bye” when leaving, communication during the week and on the weekend, the perceptions of current and future life courses, etc.) which are structured by and also structure the infrastructure of the family. In the same way that multisited “social spaces” inside a national society are not completely new, the transnational spanning of social spaces is also not a recent development. The two-thousand-year history of the Catholic Church demonstrates this, as does Cohen’s (1997) analysis of the histories of various diasporas. Recent studies reveal that European mass migration to the American continent since the nineteenth century led to durable transnational relations, commuting over long distances, as well as to well-established transnational social control over remittances or the behaviour of spouses (see Smith, in this volume). But we argue that at the start of our present century transnational social spaces are becoming a mass phenomenon and are important outcomes and forms of what is frequently referred to as “globalization”. Earlier transnational social relations and practices—mainly migration processes, international economic activities and political movements—provided a platform and a period of “incubation” which made way for the current emergence of transnational social spaces. Current transnational social relations have reached a level of “critical mass” and have

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combined with other forces of social change, such as the push of new communication and transportation technologies and transnational organizations, as well as the pull of international mass tourism and the global presence of mass media organizations. In our understanding, emerging transnational social spaces are not merely spatial extensions of the migrants’ communities of origin (see Smith 1995); they do not exist without a geographicspatial extent and therefore are not “de-territorialized” (see Basch et al 1997; Ong and Nonini 1997); they are neither only or mainly channels for movements of people, in the sense of social capital or migration networking (Massey and Espinosa 1997), nor are they sufficiently captured by focusing on integration and the adaptation problems of second-generation migrants (Portes 1996). Transnational social spaces are pluri-local social entities and genuine realities composed of social practices, artifacts and symbols with a density and stability relatively high in comparison to other social spaces. For instance, the social space of a multi-cultural neighbourhood of immigrants from different countries and continents in New York City could be less important in everyday life than the pluri-local social space that integrates Mexican migrants of this neighbourhood with their family and community members in the region of origin. Previously a marginal topic, transnational social space must now be recognized as an important factor that changes qualitatively the relation between the social and the (geographic) spatial. To develop the study of transnational social spaces as a research programme a lot of theoretical and empirical work has to be done. This volume concentrates on transnational social spaces emerging as a result of the growing and differentiating migration movements and of substantial changes in the activities of international business companies. Besides new international social movements (Keck and Sikkink 1998), both fields— international labour migration and international business units—should be at the core of anthropological and sociological studies of transnational social spaces. The following chapters of this book analyse important aspects of transnational social spaces in the fields of migration and business companies; they also reveal a scope for different research methods. In Chapter 2 Robert Smith analyses social life in the international migration process between a Swedish sending village and the US Midwest since the second half of the eighteenth century. He demonstrates how “transnational life” could emerge and reproduce itself for one-and-a-half centuries through people’s everyday practices. Hereby he reminds us (as do e.g. the chapters of Part III, and vol. II of Holms 1996) that transnational social spaces are nothing new at the beginning of the twenty-first century and do not genuinely depend on modern communication and transport technologies. Comparing this historical Swedish experience with a case study of recent Mexican-US migration, Smith finds very different dynamics of transnational migration: a “transplanted community” in the first, a “syncretic adaptation” in the latter example. Although both communities of origin share a rural setting, cultural practices and systems of symbols and beliefs differ substantially. Together with other dissimilarities, like geographic proximity or accessible technologies, this could explain the

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contrasting development of transnational life over time. His chapter demonstrates how to analyse and control systematically the relation between the emerging local and transnational social spaces at the geographic-spatial level of the local micro-regions of departure and of arrival. Transnational life is not limited to the everyday practices of families or local groups spanning different countries. Another way of studying transnational social spaces is the analysis of transnational political organizations and social movements as presented by Luin Goldring in Chapter 3. Citizenship often is perceived as a socio-legal status tied to a certain territory or nation-state and national society. Goldring’s proposal is to differentiate several types of citizenship, for example: de jure, de facto, and practiced citizenship. Taking the example of Mexican (Zacatecas) migration to the US (Los Angeles) her chapter analyses the role of gender, political loyalties and tactics, and state interests in making and perpetuating transnational social spaces. It reveals that these transnational social spaces are not merely networks or mediums for the circulation of goods, information and people, but constitute complex and genuine extents of social practices, artifacts and symbols. Power structures, the making of gender relations or the significance of state politics both are structured by and structure transnational social spaces by their own logics. Based on a conceptual framework of transnational social spaces and transnational families, as well as on deep empirical field work in a Mexican emigration region and the Metropolitan area of New York, Fernando Herrera (in this volume; see also Macías and Herrera 1997) presents a “dense description” of the individual and family trajectories of transnational migrants. What is interesting in this case is that some members of the transnational family have lived—through all four generations—in the Mexican region of the Mixteca Poblana, while others have lived—through all four generations—in the region of New York. But even more surprising is the fact that after some years the actual configuration of the family members had changed significantly, so that some who first lived in Mexico later lived in the USA and vice versa! Even if Herrera presents only a small group of people, it is the richness of the qualitative information that reveals the importance of the concept of transmigration. By no means can we understand and explain the empirical findings simply by using the concepts of emigration and immigration; transmigration is precondition and outcome of transnational social spaces. While the transnational social spaces approach was developed in the context of North American realities (mainly the Caribbean-, Asian-, and Mexican-US migration), Jeffrey Jurgens discusses its explanatory power for the TurkishGerman case. Based on theoretical reflections and empirical field work, in Chapter 5 he analyses the differentiation of identities and social practices of young Turkish people living in different regions in Germany by ethnicity, migration generation and social class. The melange (or hybridity of identities and social practices) amongst groups of young Turkish migrants in Germany that could indicate the emergence of transnational social spaces is shaped by social class and the migrant’s generation as well. Therefore, transnational frameworks (could) influence social orientation, cultural production and

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perceptions of oneself and others—but not every hybrid cultural perception and production of the self and the others must reflect transnational social spaces. International business companies used to be studied by the disciplines of industrial and economic sociology, organization studies and management research. The main focus was to compare company cultures and structures in their national, institutional and situational embeddedness, and to distinguish different types of internationally operating companies according to their geographic-spatial structure and their co-ordination mechanisms.5 The chapters in Part III of this volume focus on social interaction and on transnational social spaces that are or could be constituted in international companies. In Chapter 6 Ralf Reichwald and Kathrin Möslein analyse the social practices of telecooperation in international companies. One could imagine telecooperation as the performance-oriented interaction of people in different places working together on the same products, in the same companies or missions in order to reduce the need for the physical presence and meeting of the actors. Based on empirical research in a number of international companies, this chapter presents very interesting insights in the forms and mechanisms of cooperation. Even if equipped with the most outstanding communication technologies (email, tele-conferencing systems, etc.), managers don’t reduce their time and budget for travelling. This highlights the role of physical face-to-face presence and awareness for co-operation processes. Obviously there exist social spaces of trust, personal familiarity, a history of face-to-face encounters, attitudes and symbolic behaviour, etc., that are pluri-locally common to different work units or plants and are not easily replaced by technical means of communication. These findings open a new perspective on how to characterize multinational, transnational and global companies. In spite of the predominant fixation on the geographic-spatial distribution of resources and the co-ordination mechanisms between company units (see Bartlett and Ghoshal 1989 and the corresponding literature cited in note 5) the character of an international business company could also be defined by the quality and quantity of existing transnational social spaces. In this respect, and based on case studies of German international companies in the chemical and automotive industries, Hermann Kotthoff offers in Chapter 7 a quite critical view on the extension and importance of transnational social spaces. He argues that culture and power in the international companies studied is normally centred and concentrated in the host country. But, from a general point of view, his findings reveal transnational social spaces with widely ethnocentric structures and decision-making processes. While management possesses the means and the required qualifications for using telecommunication technologies—albeit with great difficulty—and has wide opportunities to integrate into transnational social networks of trust and loyalties, labour normally lacks these possibilities. In Chapter 8 Jürgen Kädtler and Hans-Joachim Sperling analyse the internationalization and transnationalization of workers’ organizations. The recently established European Workers Councils represent pioneering experiences of a real transnational board of workers and employees. These new forms of transnational industrial relations go far beyond the traditional logic of politically

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grounded “international solidarity” between unions and Workers Councils that hitherto were bounded and limited to national societies and institutions. In this respect the European Union is not only an economic, but also a social and political project of building a macro-region (in contrast to NAFTA, ASEAN or Mercosur), and its European Workers Councils initiative presents an answer to market-liberal globalization. The social outcome of company transnationalization depends not only on economic conjunctures and political regulations but also on the capacities of labour to develop new forms of intraand interorganizational bargaining in transnational social spaces. The chapter written by Jörg Flecker and Ruth Simsa focuses on a very important aspect of transnational social relations: the structures and strategies of control and co-ordination, combining an empirical analysis of transnational business companies and non-governmental organizations (NGOs). As already mentioned above in the context of different types of international companies, these structures and strategies determine the degree and quality of interconnectedness between individual and collective actors, and mould the social integration of an organization’s members. The authors distinguish different modes of coordination and control in transnational organizations (companies and NGOs) and illustrate their importance by referring to empirical findings. The focus is on the tension between shared organizational strategies and goals, on the one hand, and the need for local autonomy, on the other. In order to cope with growing needs for flexibility and operational autonomy, transnational organizations strengthen their corporate culture and communicative co-ordination. This does not replace power and authority structures, but the dialectics of system integration and social integration induces and stabilizes transnational social spaces. In Part IV the concluding chapter by Saskia Sassen presents some general observations on the study of transnational processes. It examines two distinct perspectives, one concerned with the relation between the global economy and the nation-state, the second focused on the relation between global economy and (geographic) place. Both of these call for detailed empirical work, including ethnographic work, and for an understanding of social and cultural dynamics. Herein lies, indeed, one of the important methodological and theoretical implications of such an alternative approach: a study of the global economy is not confined to the macro-level cross-border processes studied by international economists; it also requires macro- and micro-level studies by sociologists, anthropologists, political scientists, and others. In this sense, the chapters of this book present different disciplinary perspectives, topics and methods, but all of them share the focus on the emergence of new social-spatial realities and of the changing relevance of different types of configurations of social spaces with geographic spaces. Conclusions We began by considering new phenomena produced by the social practices of everyday life, socially built and spatially sedimented artifacts and symbolic

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systems, and the social institutions that structure human life and transcend the traditional borders of the nation-state-bounded national societies. These emerging transnational phenomena could not be adequately explained by the world system theory, due to its structural-functionalism, macro-vision, and its focus on the interconnections between the international driving forces that constrain and influence national and regional social development. Luhmann’s version of the world society is more of a spatial widening of “society”,—achieved by at the same time limiting his conceptual definition of “society”—to include only systems of communication. The globalization discussion is important because it leads us to reevaluate the spatial dimensions of social relations. But by focusing unilaterally on the expansion of the social and the shrinking importance of the spatial, the globalization discussion undermines the dimensions it helps us to reconsider. We have to rethink the relationship between the social and the (geographic) spatial. In sociology “absolutist container thinking”—in terms of national societies—prevailed for a long time, but it would not be a viable alternative to switch to the opposite position of a pure relativist and/or constructivist approach of “de-territorialized” social realities. We need to take into consideration both the relativist and the absolutist visions of social space. The same is true regarding the relation between the social and the (geographic) spatial. In order to define and defend itself as a discipline, sociological thinking often dissolves the (geographic) space and the spatial into the air of social structuring. In order not to look like geo-determinists, sociologists stress the fact that all geographic space is structured by human activity, or at least human imagination. The social is the independent, the spatial is the dependent variable. Of course, this is absolutely valid. But it is not the whole story. Geographic space is something which is socially constructed and structured, but the spatial also has to be recognized as a relatively independent driving force in the shaping of the social. Artifacts as objectifications and sediments of former social action and production processes gain a relatively independent force, and they affect the structuring of current social processes. In our understanding, the approach of transnational social spaces is not the product of a closed paradigm or a finished conceptual framework, but a research agenda. A focus on transnational social spaces is based on the conviction that we must look systematically for multi-sited social realities composed of material artifacts, social practices and everyday life, as well as systems of symbolic representation that are structured by and, at the same time, structure human life, and span more than one nation-state not only in a transitory manner but in a stable manner over time. To do this, we could and should use all viable and proven theoretical and methodological instruments that the social sciences have to offer. But, at the same time, we have to develop new instruments as well. For example, relations between the social and the (geographic) space force us to consider issues that can only be studied if we find new ways to combine local, micro-regional, national, macro-regional and global levels of analysis. Studies of transnational social spaces require methodological and methodical innovations as well. The multi-sited networking of research teams in different places is one important way to capture pluri-local social realities. For several years now George Marcus (1995) has

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been working on what he calls a “multi-sited ethnography in/of the World System”. Some of his rules are: follow the people (for example, the migrants), follow the things or the commodity chains, follow the Metaphors and the stories, follow the life or biography and/or follow the conflict. We also have to reconsider how to combine transnational with comparative methods (see, for example, Ebbinghaus 1995; Goldthorpe 1997). Do we need cross-national comparison in the age of globalization and transnationalism? What could be the relations between transnational studies, regional studies and comparative studies? Far from being a new and closed theoretical framework, the transnational social spaces programme is an effort to focus on new social realities and has as its agenda to discuss and answer a lot of questions. The foregoing statements on rethinking the relation between the social and the (geographic) space do not represent an attempt to advocate a primitive geodeterminism or an understanding of geography as a natural science. But social scientists do have to reconsider and re-evaluate the spatial dimension of sociological thought. The time-dimension has been reconsidered intensively during the last twenty years: the life-cycle approach, biographical research, the trajectoryapproach, the analysis of age-period-cohort effects in social life, and so on. But what about space? It seems that the mainstream of globalization discourse puts the spatial dimension on the agenda merely to demonstrate that it is no longer relevant. If globalization is only the annihilation and the homogenization of space, we could forget the spatial dimension. But if globalization and new forms of regionalization and localization are two faces of the same coin, we have to reflect much more on space and the relation between the social and the (geographic) space. As Gregory and Urry (1985) stated, the division of labour between sociology as “the explanation of social structures by intrinsically social processes” and human geography as “the explanation of spatial structures by intrinsically spatial processes” is not the best option. Perhaps sociology as a discipline could only have been born by stressing this division of labour. Perhaps the marginalization of space—and of artifacts—from sociological thought was a (necessary?) “disease of childhood”. But then it’s time to grow up! In the future, people will live and feel in a multiplicity of types of social spaces, which will be characterized by different modes and levels of differentiation and integration and by different combinations of social and geographic spaces. When the “units of analysis” are not as obvious and “delimited” as the primary groups, local communities or national societies of the past, but emergent configurations of social practices, artifacts and symbols, relatively stable over time and relatively dense in their geographic-spatial extents, then the challenge will be not only to understand and explain, but to identify and analyse them. The study of transnational social spaces is a good exercise in this sense. Notes 1

The term artifacts refers to all human-made, and thereby socially produced, objects of the world; see Linde 1972.

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2 In this context, Lewis and Wigen (1997) made interesting proposals on how to combine the analysis of civilizations with that of overlapping and hybrid social realities: The challenge…is to synthesise the best of two contrasting traditions: one that recognises the integrity and durability of cultural macroregions, and another that has developed a vocabulary for analysing the interconnections between them….the best starting point for such a project is to sketch a rough map of the major religious communities established in premodern times…. We then proceed to refine this scheme in two ways. First, we overlay a series of alternative identity maps…. Finally, we introduce a handful of refinements to the notion of a cultural boundary itself…focusing on four key concepts that have been articulated in recent historical works: the middle ground, the diaspora, the cultural archipelago, and the matrix. (Lewis and Wigen 1997, p. 141f., italics in original) 3 Albrow 1996, p. 119ff. For an interesting attempt to reconsider transnationalism in a historic perspective of global political economy, see van der Pijl 1998. Probably the most interesting study on globalization is presented by Held et al. (1999). But, despite the very comprehensive and dialectical description of what they call “thick globalization” (ibid., pp. 22–28, 431), neither “space” nor “transnationalism” are key concepts in this book (ibid., pp. 52–58); on the contrary, in our context the use of terms like “deterritorialization” and “aterritorial” globalization (ibid., pp. 27f, 430) seems to offer more confusion than clarification. 4 Peter Stalker (2000) also uses the term “transnational community” in his recent interesting study of “the impact of globalization on international migration”, although he does not reflect explicitly on this concept: “The intensification of communications links is likely to promote further transnational communities. Migrants nowadays can develop and maintain many kinds of links, constructing social networks and lifeworlds that join them to two or more locations and nationstates” (ibid., p. 128). 5 See, as classical studies, Bartlett and Ghoshal 1989; Child 1981; Dore 1973; Hofstede 1978 and 1997; Ruigrok and van Tulder 1995. Some recent debates are summarized in Eckhardt et al. 1999.

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23–49 Keck, Margaret E. and Kathryn Sikkink, 1998: Activists beyond Borders: Advocacy networks in international politics. Cornell: Cornell University Press Kirsch, Scott, 1995: “The incredible shrinking world? Technology and the production of space”. In: Environment and Planning D: Society and space, vol. 13, pp. 529–555 Lewis, Martin W. and Kären E.Wigen, 1997: The Myth of Continents: A critique of metageography. Berkeley/Los Angeles/London: University of California Press Linde, Hans, 1972: Sachdominanz. in Sozialstrukturen. Tübingen: Mohr Luhmann, Niklas, 1984: Soziale Systeme: Grundriß einer allgemeinen Theorie. Frankfurt/M.: Suhrkamp ——, 1997: Die Gesellschaft der Gesellschaft (2 vols). Frankfurt/M.: Suhrkamp Macías Gamboa, Saúl, and Fernando Herrera Lima (eds), 1997: Migración Laboral Internacional: Transnacionalidad del espacio social. Puebla: Benemérita Universidad Autónoma de Puebla Mahler, Sarah J., 1999: “Theoretical and empirical contributions towards a research agenda for transnationalism”. In: Michael Peter Smith and Luis Eduardo Guarnizo (eds), Transnationalism from Below, vol. 6 of Comparative Urban and Community Research. New Brunswick/London: Transaction Publishers (2nd printing), pp. 64–100 Marcus, George E., 1995: “Ethnography in/of the world system: The emergence of multi-sited ethnography”. In: Annual Review of Anthropology, vol. 24, pp. 95–117 Massey, D. and K.Espinosa, 1997: “What’s driving Mexico-US migration? A theoretical, empirical, and policy analysis”. In: American Journal of Sociology, vol. 102, pp. 939–999 Nelson, Benjamin, 1973: “Civilizational complexes and intercivilizational encounters”. In: Sociological Analysis, vol. 34, pp. 79–105 Ong, Aihwa, and Donald Nonini (eds), 1997: Ungrounded Empires: The cultural politics of modern Chinese transnationalism. London/New York: Routledge Pieterse, Jan, 1994: “Globalisation as hybridisation”. In: International Sociology, vol. 9, pp. 161–184 Portes, Alejandro (ed.), 1996: The New Second Generation. New York: Russell Sage Foundation Portes, Alejandro, Luis E.Guarnizo and Patricia Landolt, 1999: “Introduction: Pitfalls and promise of an emergent research field”. In: Ethnic and Racial Studies, vol. 22, no. 2, pp. 217–237 Pries, Ludger, 1996: “Transnationale Soziale Räume: Theoretisch-empirische Skizze am Beispiel der Arbeitswanderungen Mexiko-USA”. In: Zeitschrift für Soziologie, vol. 25. pp. 437–453 ——, 1998: “The disruption of social and geographic space: US-Mexican migration and the emergence of transnational social spaces”. Paper presented at the International Symposium “Mexican Migrants in New York and Mexico”, Columbia University and New School for Social Research, New York, October 1998 ——, 1999a: “New migration in transnational space”. In: Ludger Pries (ed.), Migration and Transnational Social Spaces. Aldershot: Ashgate, pp. 1–35 ——, 1999b: Auf dem Weg zu global operierenden Konzernen? BMW, Daimler-Benz. und Volkswagen —Die Drei Großen der deutschen Automobilindustrie. München/Mering: Rainer Hampp Verlag Robertson, Roland, 1992: Globalisation: Social theory and global culture. London: Sage ——, 1994: “Globalisation or glocalization”. In: Journal of International Communication, vol. 1, pp. 33–52 Ruigrok, Winfried, and Rob van Tulder, 1995: The Logic of International Restructuring. London/New York: Routledge Sassen, Saskia, 1991: The Global City. New York/London/Tokyo/Princeton: Princeton University Press ——, 1998: Globalisation and its Discontents. New York: New York Press Simmel, Georg, 1983: “Soziologie des Raumes” [1903]. In: H.J.Dahme and

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O.Rammstedt (eds), Simmel: Schriften zur Soziologie. Frankfurt/M: Suhrkamp, pp. 221– 242 Sklair, Leslie, 1995: Sociology of the Global System. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press Smith, Robert, 1995: “‘Los ausentes siempre presentes’: The imagining, making and politics of a transnational community between Ticuani, Puebla, Mexico, and New York City”. Ph.D. dissertation, New York: Columbia University Smith, Michael Peter, and Luis Eduardo Guarnizo (eds), 1999: Transnationalism from Below, vol. 6 of Comparative Urban and Community Research. New Brunswick/London: Transaction Publishers (2nd printing) Stalker, Peter, 2000: Workers without Frontiers: The impact of globalization on international migration. Boulder/London/Geneva: Lynne Rienner/ILO Urry, John, 2000: Sociology beyond Societies. Mobilities for the twenty-first century. London/New York: Routledge Van der Pijl, Kees, 1998: Transnational Classes and International Relations. London/New York: Routledge Vertovec, Steven, 1999: “Conceiving and researching transnationalism”. In: Ethnic and Racial Studies, vol. 22, no. 2, pp. 447–462 Wallerstein, Immanuel, 1986: Das moderne Weltsystem-Die Anfänge kapitalistischer Landwirtschaft und die europäische Weltökonomie im 16. Jahrhundert. Frankfurt/M.: Syndikat Waters, Malcolm, 1995: Globalization. London/New York: Routledge Werlen, Benno, 1993: Society, Action and Space: An alternative human geography, preface by Anthony Giddens. London: Routledge

Part II

International migration and transnational social spaces

2 Comparing local-level Swedish and Mexican transnational life An essay in historical retrieval Robert C.Smith

Introduction1 How new is transnational life, and how durable? And if it is not new, how is it different today from it was before? How does a transnational perspective deepen our understanding of the social world, and of which processes in particular? This chapter seeks to address these questions by comparatively analysing migration and related transnational social processes at the local level in two very different cases and time periods: a Swedish farming community in the American Midwest spanning most of the last wave of migration (1860s–1920s), and a contemporary Mexican community in New York City (1940s–present). That these two cases are set in different time periods and contexts of reception both imposes limits on our ability to answer the questions posed above and gives us some purchase on them. The limits stem from the different methods used in the Swedish case (mainly archival historical, see Ostergren 1988) and the Mexican case (mainly ethnographic, see Smith 1995, 1998b, 1999b), and from the fact that the outcomes in the Swedish case are known, and in the Mexican case are not. Analytical leverage is gained because the comparison enables us to understand this chapter as an exercise in historical retrieval. In essence, it asks what will we see when we look at the Swedish case using a transnational perspective and comparing it to a current transnational case? Conversely, it asks what insights about the limits and potential of local transnational life are suggested when we look at a contemporary local case with the benefit of historical hindsight? I frame the discussion using the concept of “transnational life” instead of “transnationalism” because I wish to keep the focus on the local level, lived processes that will make the analysis more concrete. Transnational life includes those practices and relationships linking immigrants and their descendants abroad with the home country, where such practices have significant meaning, are regularly carried out, and embody important aspects of identity and social structure that help form the life world of immigrants or their descendants. I understand “transnational life” not as an all-encompassing concept or empirical reality, but rather as one of several important spheres of life in which migrants can belong and participate. The nature and extent of the involvement in 37

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transnational life varies, but in general is stronger than that in purely associational forms of social life—such as political parties, clubs, etc.—but less strong than that envisioned in the classic notion of “community”, with its pervading connotation (for other discussions of the term “transnational’, see Guarnizo 1998; Portes et al. 1999; Glick-Schiller 1999; Mato 1997; Pries 1999; Smith 1999a). The term “transnational life” as I use it here is consistent with analyses using the concept “transnational social space” that frames this book. Where appropriate, other cases are brought in for comparison or context. This chapter purposely focuses mainly on developments at the local level, but with the knowledge that these are or were affected by developments at higher levels. Indeed, changes in macro-level politics, economics or in institutions have important consequences and reset the parameters within which local-level processes get played out. In particular, several of the macro-level variables would tend to create more potential for durable transnational life, including: today’s greater tolerance for ethnic diversity and possession of rights by ethnic minorities in the US; the likelihood of continued high levels of immigration to the US for the foreseeable future; the presence of an international human-rights regime enforcing freedom of movement; an international political economy in which the US is a vital centre, and, in particular, the economic integration between the US and Mexico and Latin America. In addition, we must consider the strategic and well-planned efforts of many major sending countries to cultivate, deepen and make more permanent the relations between themselves and their emigrants abroad. The home states are, in essence, attempting to create their own diasporas. These include Mexico, Ecuador, the Dominican Republic, Haiti, the Philippines, and other major US sending countries, as well as similar efforts by sending countries sending migrants to other places (see Guarnizo, Sanchez and Roach 1999; Smith 1998a, 1998b; Goldring 1998; Blanc-Szanton 1998; Glick Schiller 1999; Martínez 1998; Lessinger 1998). Accepting that the macro-level factors will in the long run largely determine the set of possibilities at the local level, there is still much to be learned from comparing the local-level processes in these two cases. First, it is at the local level that immigrants and their children’s lived experience is, or is not, transnational, and it is at that level that these macro-level processes must manifest themselves to produce change. Moreover, much transnational life starts as local action by migrants or stay-at-homes or both. National governments usually get involved later, in reaction to the effects such mobilization are having or might have on the home society’s politics or economics (e.g. delegitimizing or legitimizing the current regime) or to mobilize emigrants for foreign-policy goals (e.g. in the Mexican case, to get NAFTA passed). Finally, the local level of migrant life exists to some extent autonomously and apart from the home or host country’s national politics or foreign policies. There can exist a local-level dynamic of migration and settlement that strongly influences the extent and nature of transnational life. Ostergren (1988) identifies four stages in this process that provide a useful starting point for our analysis, and are consistent with social science analyses (e.g. see Massey et al. 1987):

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Pre-migration conditions create the potential for migration; Migration stream develops to include large segments of the population; Settlement in the US and adjustment to the migration process occurs in the US and in home country. These processes include important influences flowing in both directions between the home community in the country of origin and the daughter community in the US, including return migration; Finally, there is a stage of “consolidation, equilibrium and redefinition, in which both old and new communities reconcile themselves to the waning import of the trans-Atlantic connection and adjust to new challenges at home, although such adjustments may still reflect or even be highly dependent on the influence of the migratory experience” (Ostergren 1988, p. 25).

Hence, within a given set of macro-conditions, the nature and extent of transnational life between a given sending and receiving community will evolve in response to its own internal dynamics, perhaps settling into what I elsewhere described as “asymptotic stability” (Smith 1995; see Massey et al. 1994). It is these processes, internal to the populations and mother and daughter communities involved but embedded within the larger context, which this chapter analyses. Concretely, this chapter comparatively analyses transnational life in the Rattvik parish in the Swedish province of Dalarna and among its emigrants in Isanti and Clay counties, Minnesota, and in the municipality of Ticuani, in the Mexican state of Puebla, and among its emigrants in New York City.2 The comparison makes sense because both sets of work show intimate and thorough acquaintance with the cases analysed, Ostergren draws on Sweden’s unusually thorough migration records, and nearly as thorough records among the Swedish church in Minnesota, to reconstruct the evolution of the Rattvik migration and community. I draw on more than ten years of ethnographic and some quantitative research with Ticuanenses in Ticuani and New York. The two communities are similar in that they both evince high levels of transnational involvement over several decades, including institutionalization at a local level, and a high degree of attachment among migrants to local identities and practices in home and host countries. Moreover, the activities of both play out higher-level political and social trends of both host and home countries at both sites. Their activities also span more than one generation, though in somewhat different ways. They differ in a number of other important ways too, including some which would affect the constitution and durability of transnational life and community. Two of the most important of these are local geographies of the community in the sending and receiving sites, and the nature and kind of local institutional transplantation or adaptation. Technology and the context of reception are also important factors that affect the second generation’s relationship to transnational processes. Critiques of a transnational perspective This analysis engages three of the most common critiques of a transnational perspective. The first critique argues that “transnationalism” is not empirically

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new, and hence describing it does not require a new concept. The argument is that last-wave (1880s–1920s) migrants engaged in behaviour that scholars today would describe as “transnational” but that it was described perfectly well using less fancy terms such as “return migration” or “remigrant”, often citing Wyman’s (1993) excellent book on return migration (see, e.g., Waldinger 1997). To this critique I have two responses. First, it is a welcome corrective to much of the early transnationalism literature, whose tone, if not outright declarations, seemed to suggest that we were witnessing something brand new under the sun (see Smith 1998a; Glick Schiller 1999; Foner 1997). My second response would be to say that, while there have been such transnational practices before, they were not theorized as such, but could have been usefully considered using such an approach. This is important, because the analytical effort to which I attempt to contribute here and elsewhere describes the effects of migration in both places of origin and destination, and analyses the new forms of social and political life to emerge. The point is not that many of these changes did not occur with previous migrations; they did. The point is that they were rarely analysed as being systematically related, and as producing new and interesting outcomes at both sites. Hence, I would say that the essays in historical retrieval now going on validate this position: if we can find transnational practices in the past, we are reinterpreting and deepening our understanding of “history”, already interpreted using another framework (Smith 1998b; Foner 1997; Glick Schiller 1999). Finally, I would argue that today, in the nature, prospects, and durability of transnational life, there are in fact significant differences from the past—due to differences in technology of course, but also due to changes in the nature of assimilation in the US and the world and state systems (see Smith 1998a, 1999; Hanagan 1999). A second critique of a transnational perspective argues that assimilation is overtaking it, citing evidence that by the third generation most children of immigrants are monolingual English-speakers, and that this process starts in the second generation (e.g. Rumbaut 2000; Portes and Rumbaut 1994; Alienikoff and Rumbaut 1998). This critique posits an antagonistic relationship between transnationalization and assimilation, and commits two related errors. First, it wrongly collapses the question of transnationalization into one of assimilation, presenting a transnational perspective as one that views transnationalization as an alternative to assimilation: a way for immigrants to exist in some third space between their home and host societies. While some have offered such views, I think they are as flawed as this critique in its absolute form. Instead, I see assimilation and transnationalization in the first and second generations as having a varied relationship, allowing of many forms. For example, among many in the second generation, those who are doing better in the US are more likely to participate in transnational life, showing a positive relationship between assimilation and transnational life (Levitt 1997, 2000; Smith 1998b, 1995). However, this critique raises an important question—largely begged by many analyses of transnationalization, especially ethnographic and contemporary ones— regarding the finite time period and quality of the internal dynamic of local-level transnational life, and what factors will tend to increase or decrease its durability.

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Second, this critique’s exclusive focus on what happens in the US implies that generational assimilation in the U S captures all the action of transnationalization. Rather, I would argue that many of the most profound effects of transnationalization occur in the sending communities, that they persist for generations and change, profoundly and in many cases permanently, the structures of power and status, the economies, and the politics of these communities and nations (see Guarnizo et al. 1999; Portes et al. 1999; Levitt 1995; Goldring 1996, 1998, 2000; Smith 1995, 1998a, 1998b; Rivera 1998). This is certainly so in the cases of Rattvik and Ticuani migration analysed here. Moreover, there are important effects not only in both sending and receiving areas, but also in both directions: home and host country are affected by what migrants do in the other place, as will be shown in our two cases. A third critique of a transnational perspective is that most immigrants do not participate actively in transnational activities, which makes transnational life the purview of a very small and esoteric—and hence theoretically unimportant— segment of the population. While the extent of participation in transnational life requires wider empirical investigation, I think this critique raises a useful corrective to the globalizing tendency of early transnationalist literature, which implied but did not demonstrate broad transnational participation. Ultimately, I think that it will be shown that a relatively small segment of the immigrant population actively and frequently engages in transnational action (as leaders, for example) though greater numbers participate as members or followers at community level (by affirming events or giving money, for example). However, this in itself means little. Indeed, most social movements, political parties, unions, or local communities do not run by the active participation of most participants; most could not run effectively with such broad participation. Rather, I think that the task is to acknowledge the limitations of who participates in transnational activities and how, and to study toward what end they participate and with what results. For transnationalization to merit study, and for the concept to merit use, it is not necessary that this concept be able to describe the totality of the contemporary immigrant experience. Indeed, I think an attempt to theorize at that level of grand theory would be premature and probably ultimately bound for failure. This said, it is still important to recognize that many immigrant leaders are increasingly involved in transnational activities, and that migrant sending states have created many new programmes meant to cultivate ties with their diasporic populations—to create diasporas (see Smith 1999b, 1998a, 1998b; Guarnizo 1998; Levitt 2000; Goldring 2000; Portes et al. 1999). At the very least, one neglects an increasingly important aspect of immigrant reality by purposely eliding the concept and empirical reality of transnationalization. The institutionalization, geography and durability of transnational life in Rattvik and Ticuani This section lays out the basic parameters of transnationalization and transnational life in Ticuani and in Rattvik, before they are compared in the

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following section. Here, we review their geography, institutionalization, power relations, and the manner of participation in the second generation. Ticuani: institutionalized political settlement in the first generation, changing transnationalization in the second Migration from Ticuani to New York City began in the mid–1940s, and stayed at low levels until the late 1960s, when the first significant class of migrants left. Out-migration increased greatly during the mid–1970s after the first large peso devaluations, increased again after the oil shocks of the early 1980s, and exploded from the late 1980s to mid–1990s. This explosion was due to several factors, including: the persistence of Mexico’s economic crisis, which was felt particularly harshly in the Mixteca region of Puebla where Ticuani is located; the amnesty programme of the US 1986 Immigration Reform and Control Act, which helped almost half of all undocumented Ticuanenses in New York legalize their status; and the sudden identification of Mexicans as a cheap source of labour by employers in New York during the 1980s (see Smith 1995, 1996). Hence, by 1999, we have nearly sixty years of Ticuanense migration to look back on, with significant transnational activity for more than thirty of them, as will be discussed. Migration from the Mixteca region started later than migration from other traditional sending areas in Mexico, and went to New York instead of the west coast, but many of the same broad processes have obtained. Ticuani demonstrates with particular vigour forms of transnational life that are widespread in areas of Mexico with several decades or more of migration. This shows first in its population structure and location and economic dependency on remittances. In 1993 there were 2,000 Ticuanenses and their children in NYC, and about 2,500 in Ticuani; in 1999 there are about 1,700– 1,800 left in Ticuani, and 2,700 or so in New York. Almost all working-age Ticuanenses are in New York, while almost all retirement-age people are in Ticuani. Young children used to remain in Ticuani, but are increasingly moving to New York to be with their parents, who have obtained permanent residency or citizenship through the 1986 amnesty. In 1993, 51 per cent of the people lived in households that depended for 90 per cent or more of their income on remittances from New York. This dependence had increased by 1999. The end result has been the transformation of Ticuani into a nursery and nursing home where there are almost as many professionals in this agricultural county as there are peasants and farmers, where mothers or grandparents and young children wait for money orders and greenbacks from the north, and participate in a remittance economy in which almost all economic activity in Ticuani can be linked directly or indirectly to American dollars earned in New York City. Such conditions are widespread throughout Mexico, and many Mexican towns have transnationalized social and political lives (see Goldring 1996, 1998, 2000; Gledhill 1995; Malkin 1998; Smith 1995, 1998a). Moreover, with one in three Mexicans likely to make a trip to the US in their lifetimes (Massey and Espinosa 1997), such conditions are likely to increase.

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Ticuanense life has been transnationalized in several ways, and is characterized by a high degree of coherent and long-standing transnational social and political cooperation, in which a majority of the Ticuanense population participates in one form or another, both in the US and in Mexico. Ticuani transnational life emerged in the context of the fit between the internal institutions of the community and its engagement with US and Mexican structures, and evolved over time. First, transnational Ticuanense activity resonates with communal practices traceable to a social form known as the “closed corporate peasant community” (Wolf 1957; Kearney 1995), in which: 1 2

social life stresses the communal over the individual; everyone has a communal work obligation, known in Ticuani as faenas (and in other places as el tequio or other names, see Kearney 1991; Rivera 1998; Smith 1995; Neiburg 1988); 3 public life is organized around a dedication to the village’s patron saint; and 4 religious and political authority are largely fused and are won through participation in a religious cargo system, wherein successful fulfilment of one’s obligation to the patron saint leads to secular authority in the town, and even to a kind of co-governance with the elected officials. This is almost exclusively a male domain. To note that the closed corporate peasant community has been central to understanding the Ticuani case is not to posit that such a social form will be present in every case that exhibits strong transnationalization. Rather, whatever internal community structures exist will be adapted, or not, to a migrant context. The second and perhaps most striking aspect of Ticuani transnational life is that the Ticuani municipal authorities in Mexico and their immigrants’ counterparts in New York have worked out shared administrative and political arrangements to carry out public works and other projects back in the home town, syncretically adapting older institutions to the migrant context. For example, Ticuanense immigrants in New York discharge their faenas through donations collected by the New York Ticuani Committee, and have done so for thirty years, shifting power over time to those in New York and to the Committee. More than $100,000 of $150,000 for the potable water project was raisedamongTicuanenses residinginNewYorkbytheNYTicuanenseCommittee, outstripping the donations of the local, state and federal governments. Each household that was able had to pay $300 towards this project. The committee called it collecting each person’s “cooperations” but the contribution was really seen as mandatory. Those households that did not pay were threatened with having their water not turned on in Ticuani. Almost all households in New York and Ticuani paid, including people who had not been back to the town in more than thirty years, or who had been born there but raised in other parts of Mexico. Out of the entire Ticuani population, only 28 households judged capable of paying did not do so. These non-payers were the local elite, led by the cacique or “political boss”, who contested the Committee’s authority to make them pay. That most people paid their “cooperations” suggests that the tradition of faenas continues to operate in a migrant context.

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The economic power of the Committee and the “New Yorkers” (as some nonmigrant Ticuanense leaders refer to the immigrants in New York) has resulted in two kinds of political change. The first is that Ticuani political leaders in New York and Ticuani met in Ticuani and hammered out a set of terms and conditions of membership for transnational participation in Ticuani political life which included the right to public acknowledgment of the New York Committee on all works to which it contributes, regular consultation on decisions affecting such works, and a minimum one-year stay back in Ticuani for anyone wishing to run for public office. The second major result was the upset defeat of the cacique’s candidate in the 1998 municipal elections, in large part because of the intervention of New-York-residing Ticuanenses (but not the Committee) in the campaign. New-York-based allies of one of the town’s school teachers raised money to enable him to defeat the cacique, whose candidates had been in power for more than twenty years, by matching the cacique’s campaign fund-raising capacity. They also took advantage of the political opportunity created by changes in the dominant party’s (the PRI’s) candidate selection rules, discussed later. These syncretic adaptations of older traditions in the migrant context have resulted in a transnationalized political system in Ticuani. Third, Ticuani social and religious life has been transnationalized and provides avenues for broad transnational participation in New York and in Mexico. Many Ticuanenses and their US-born children return regularly to Ticuani and communicate regularly by phone with relatives and friends there. The most common time for return is during the Feast of the patron saint, Padre Jesus, in January, but many also return during summer vacation during the Feast of the patron saint of the neighbouring town. These trips serve as vacations, but are often structured around the rituals associated with the town’s religious cargo system. For example, each year about half of over two hundred runners in a Mexico City-Ticuani 36–hour antorcha (torch run; it is a peregrinación or pilgrimage) for Padre Jesus are returnees from New York; about half of them are New-Yorkborn or -raised. Videos of the whole event are made and sent back to the funders in New York, to make them participants in the event and show them that the responsibilities of co-sponsoring were well met. Fourth, Ticuanense institutions have also been created or recreated in New York. For example, about five years ago Ticuanenses began running an antorcha (torch run for Jesus) and celebrating a corresponding Mass and Feast in a church in New York, to coincide with the Feast of the patron saint in Ticuani. These events are well attended by first- and second-generation people, and are reported by second-generation people to be important sources of identity and ethnic redefinition. Attendance at such events surprised even the organizers. During the first year more than 1,600 people came, exceeding the church’s seating capacity, bringing tears to the eyes of the priest celebrating mass and his apology and promise to open the choir loft and balcony the following year. Such practices have also been supported by institutions in Ticuani and have become important creations of Mexican, Ticuani public space in a mainly non-Mexican, multicultural New York City. Two examples of such support include the Ticuani parish sending

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its priest to New York to celebrate the Mass for Padre Jesus in 1999, and the establishment in the basement of the house of one of the Ticuani leaders in Brooklyn of a semi-public shrine to Padre Jesus that Ticuanenses can use at certain hours for prayers, devotions and ceremonies dedicated to the patron saint. Here we have bi-directional institutionalization. The action is not simply the immigrants retaining ties with home; the local institutions from home have also attempted to create and maintain links with Ticuanenses in New York. Fifth, second-generation Ticuanense transnational life has emerged, though in forms different from the first generation. Some second-generation Ticuanenses did form an institution parallel to the New York Ticuani Committee: the Ticuani Youth Group, whose projects included fixing up Ticuani’s kindergarten and a local chapel honouring Padre Jesus. However, the Youth Group’s activities petered out as its members moved through their twenties, and their freedom became constrained by jobs and children3. The newest cohort of second-generation Ticuanense teens and early twenties identifies the same need for an institution, but seem even less able to create such a second-generation, transnational institution. Part of the reason for this inability is that there is lack of generational mentoring and institution-building; the New York Committee focuses exclusively on its projects, without much apparent interest in developing new leadership. However, there are also the differing orientations of the first and second generations. Consistent with the assimilationist critique of a transnational perspective, members of the second generation see their lives mainly as taking place in the US, and invest their time and energy accordingly. Yet I would not want to overstate the lack of continuity. The failure here is to form a robust second-generation Ticuanense public life similar to that of the first generation. The second generation does, in fact, continue transnational life, even if in different forms from the first generation. Among these forms is returning for important rituals, such as marriage or the baptism of a child. Ticuani has also become a vacation home for many of the second generation, who return to Ticuani at the top of the status hierarchy. Moreover, many of the Ticuani rituals in New York, such as the antorcha, have become central rituals in their social life and the definition of their Mexican American identity in the US. Finally, there are even signs that some of the third generation are significantly involved in transnational private life, also in large part because of the life course. First-generation Mexican mothers of second-generation Mexican Americans are now taking their thirdgeneration grandchildren back for extended visits of a month or more in Ticuani. The grandmothers have retired from work in the US and draw a small pension, live with their US-born children and take care of their US-born grandchildren. The grandmothers bring their grandchildren with them to Ticuani when they go back to visit and live in the huge houses their families have built with remittances. The village comes to life for two months each year, in January, during the feast of Padre Jesus, and in August, during the feast of the neighbouring town’s patron saint, when many Ticuanenses return. These vivid periods create a space for meaningful lived experience on the part of the second and (to some as yet unknown extent) third generation.

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Is a transplanted community transnational too? Geography and institutions in the transnationalization of Rattvik’s social, political and economic life Compared with Ticuani, migration from Rattvik begins and develops differently but also shows similarities. This section lays out the basic social structures corresponding in or linking Rattvik and Isanti and Clay counties, and then reanalyses aspects of these links that can be usefully understood as aspects of transnational life. We begin with a summary of Rattvik’s and Sweden’s migration history, with appropriate comparisons to the Mexican and Ticuani cases. Outmigration from Rattvik mirrored the trends in Sweden as a whole, with three large flows in 1845–55, 1868–73, and 1879–89, and smaller outflows before and after these. Swedish emigration to the US in the 1860s–1920s was relatively greater than Mexican migration to the US today. More than a million Swedes left Sweden during this period of migration, while its population was only about 3.5 million in 1850. Moreover, between one-fifth and one-quarter of all Swedes living between 1851 and 1930s emigrated to North America (Ostergren 1988, p. 314). Approximately 10 million Mexican nationals live in the US today, while Mexico has 94 million people. Out-migration from Rattvik and Ticuani were both heavy, though Ticuani’s outflow was much heavier during its peak years. In Rattvik, 55 per cent of all married men, 42 per cent of married women, 68 per cent of single men and 32 per cent of single women migrated between 1864–89; during the decades of migration Rattvik’s population growth slowed greatly, dipping to less than 2 per cent in the 1890s from more than 6 per cent four decades earlier. Ticuani’s population experienced a drastic decrease in the 1980s, falling almost 40 per cent in one decade, with a negative rate of population growth. In summary, while both Ticuani and Rattvik experienced significant out-migration over similar periods of time, Ticuani’s outflow was more sudden and pervasive. Ostergren (1988) describes the Rattvik emigration as that of “a community transplanted”. By this he means that migrants left Rattvik, settled in several concentrated areas in the US, and reproduced most of Rattvik’s essential institutions in the new area. A majority of emigrants from Rattvik settled in Isanti and Clay counties in rural Minnesota: 41 per cent in Isanti county alone. Moreover, these Swedish immigrants brought their social and religious institutions with them, reproducing not only Rattvik’s social distinctions but also its geographical settlement concentrations. Rattvik was divided into four districts (called fjarding), and most migration came from three of these. Three distinct settlement areas corresponding to these fjarding were established in Isanti county. These differences were in part the natural outgrowth of kinship networks and “information fields”, a concept functionally equivalent to the “social network” concept being used today. These geographical differences were also reinforced by the Swedish (Lutheran) state church’s establishment of institutional divisions that largely reproduced those existing in Rattvik. Like the Lutheran church in Rattvik, the congregations in Isanti and Clay counties were divided into subdivisions, called

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rotes, corresponding to the fjarding in Rattvik. The church administered and largely governed important aspects of social life. It created Swedish schools where Swedish language and culture were taught for five months of the year, five days per week, seven hours per day (later reduced to three months per year, when the US school calendar was extended). Most social events were organized by the church. And the church reproduced what Ostergren (1988) called the fjarding’s “remarkably impervious social barriers”, including kinship and endogamy patterns and social status distinctions. Indeed, Ostergren observes that the Swedish churches established in these counties “were laid out to distinguish elements hailing from the respective fjarding districts of the mother parish” and that the “administration organization of… [these] churches were official acknowledgements of a community social organization [from Sweden] that was older than the communities [in Minnesota] themselves. Through its acts, the immigrant church did much to preserve whatever social distinctions lay between those bounded areas” (Ostergren 1988, pp. 230–232). This wholesale reproduction of the Rattvik social structures and institutions demonstrates why Ostergren labelled these ethnic communities as “transplanted”. Some of these institutions reproduced patterns through the second or third generations, even as the immigrant community evolved and adapted through the process of assimilation. Crucially, the Lutheran church helped reproduce endogamy patterns and what Ostergren calls “marriage fields” (1988, p. 232) from Rattvik in Isanti and Clay counties. For example, 65 per cent of those married in particular churches in Isanti and Clay counties between 1871 and 1894 resided in the same rote, the geographical division of the church corresponding to the same fjarding in Rattvik. This meant that roughly two-thirds of those married in Isanti and Clay counties chose partners from what would have been their most likely marriage pool in Sweden. Such patterns persisted in Minnesota despite the fact that second- and third-generation people Americanized their church and housing construction, and the railroads opened up new economic opportunities outside of the local agricultural economy. Ostergren argues that, after the first Rattvik migration in the 1860s, the community had matured by the 1890s and was undergoing a process of “redefinition” by the 1910s–20s. Yet, Ostergren argues: at the same time, however, close linkage with parent communities abroad and the strength of central institutions at home worked to keep traditional social bonds and group solidarity strong. [In the aftermath of World War I, these communities] redefined their identity from the spatial community of their origins to the spatial community of their new existence. They were no longer tied to the small farms and villages of Gardso fjarding [in Rattvik], but to the farms of Athens township [in Minnesota]. The place to which they looked as home had changed, but the basic relationships between people and their institutions had changed but very little. (Ostergren 1988, p. 283)

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This points not only to the continued influence of Swedish institutions on second-and third-generation life, but also to a limit on the extent of transnational involvement among the second generation, as will be discussed later in comparison with the Ticuani case. Ostergren’s observations above raise a question about the need for a concept of transnational life. To describe the reproduction of the same local Swedish institutions in Minnesota does not require use of the adjective “transnational”. The term “transplanted” seems to capture the essence of this experience well. The question then becomes: How does what Ostergren describes differ from Old World Traits Transplanted (to quote the title of W.I.Thomas’ 1921 book)? I think that there are several ways, particularly those that show reciprocal influence between the home and host sites. There are dimensions of Ostergren’s analysis and empirical examples that could have been more deeply understood, or at least also usefully understood, using a transnational approach. The most obvious aspect of Ostergren’s solid work to which this statement applies is his own description of his study. Its simultaneous focus on the effects of migration in home and host sites is a crucial dimension of a transnational approach. This study is essentially an examination of the binding together of two places on opposite sides of the Atlantic. It seeks to understand how chain migration linked the fortunes of the two places over a finite period of time, in effect creating a unique, spatially constructed laboratory where one can observe the effects of a particular type of nineteenth-century migration simultaneously on both sending and receiving societies. Its basic thesis is that the discrete axes of migration and communication that were frequently established and maintained between places on either side of the Atlantic were the conduits for a prolonged series of back-andforth impulses between places that both reflected and inspired change in each… The axis of migration and communication that tied together places in Europe and America was a two-way street. (Ostergren 1988, p. 24f) This seems to me an eloquent description of a transnational perspective on migration. Beyond Ostergren’s understanding of his own scholarly endeavour, he presents several important empirical examples of dimensions of life, including church politics and social and political movements, that were transnationalized or affected by transnational dynamics at the local and national level. In politics, American ideals of democracy, more open styles of demand-making, and dollars flowed back across the Atlantic with what Wyman (1993) calls “remigrants” or “return migrants”, and contributed to the nascent demands for greater inclusion and democracy. Reforms advocated by the Liberals and Social Democrats as early as the 1880s trace a strong influence to the writings of “Isidor Kjellberg, a reformist editor who had spent time in the American Middle West” (Ostergren 1988, p. 362). It is important to note that the influence of remigrants was amplified because they returned to political systems experiencing indigenous

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calls for greater democracy. In Sweden’s case, for example, reforms begun in the 1860s significantly broadened the base of population voting to elect representatives to the parish councils, and provided fertile ground for “remigrant” democratic impulses. In Rattvik and Isanti and Clay counties, more central to everyday life than national political differences was church politics, especially the religious debates that threatened communal unity in both places and that had reciprocal influences. During the 1880s small “low church” or “free church” congregations (as all non-Lutheran, non-state church congregations were called—e.g. Baptists, Adventists and Mission Friends) began to appear in Rattvik. The emergence of these churches was in part the result of demographic and economic changes, such as the entrance of the railroads and emergence of a brick-making industry, which eroded Rattvik’s homogeneity and, in classic Durkheimian manner, created greater potential for cleavages within society. For example, the railroad workers, the largest non-agricultural segment of Rattvik’s population, were largely free church members. These divisions were exported to the daughter communities in Minnesota, where conflicts erupted between free church and Swedish Lutheran church congregations. These were manifest in a great public debate between leading orators of both sects in March, 1898. Ostergren describes the nature of the reciprocal impact: Religious dissension [in Minnesota] was often as much a reflection of events on the other side of the Atlantic as it was a manifestation of the religious climate within the immigrant communities. While emigration from home parishes to the transplanted communities of this area had slowed enormously by the late 1880s, places on both sides of the Atlantic continued to be linked by a more or less constant flow of individuals moving back and forth along the old axes of migration and communication… In short, there seems to have been a lively communication between mother and daughter communities long after the colonization phase was over and this link frequently served to tie together religious and social events in both places. (Ostergren 1988, p. 280) He documents the sequence in which Rattvik’s Adventist congregation was established as a direct result of a tract sent home by a Rattvik migrant in an Adventist congregation in America. A low church congregation in Sweden copied exactly the altar painting in a low church congregation in Isanti county, reflecting the intimate connection between the two parishes (Ostergren 1988, pp. 306–7). The above quote also suggests that the transnational life resulting from migration results from, but need not depend on, constant high levels of migration, a point to which we return later. The temperance movement provides another example of reciprocal, transnational influence described by Ostergren (1988). Sweden’s temperance movement began in the 1830s and 1840s, but was altered dramatically after the

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large-scale migration and subsequent return migration. By 1883 Rattvik had its first chapter of the American temperance movement, the International Order of Good Templars. The Good Templars helped move the Swedish temperance movement away from its close association with the state church. The Good Templars were closely associated with the free church movement, and in Rattvik the railroad workers were their most important membership. The Good Templars advocated a blend of religious faith and idealism that appealed especially to those outside the state church. Moreover, their loose organizational structure provided local autonomy and enabled the Templars to serve as an umbrella organization for most of the opposition in Rattvik, as well as in Sweden as a whole. The organization of the Templars had two important consequences: first, it resulted in the legal ban on alcohol; second, it united the political opposition against the propertied, landed local elite who profited from alcohol sales and who were almost all members of the Lutheran, state church. The same kinds of political cleavages and dynamics were at work in Isanti at the same time. There was also a split within the temperance movement in Isanti and Clay counties; this resulted in the formation of a second temperance movement, which subsequently established chapters in Rattvik. Rattvik and Ticuani compared: what is new and old about transnational life, and why do we need transnational concepts to understand it? Rattvik and Ticuani offer important bases for comparison and theorizing about local-level transnational processes and enable us to engage the critiques of transnationalism outlined at the start of this chapter. These comparisons will focus on four areas: 1 2 3 4

the internal dynamics of local-level transnationalization, including the importance of the different geographies of community; differing forms of local institutional adaptation to migration; similarities and differences in kind of reciprocal political and social influence on home and host sites; and, of particular importance, different ways in which the second or subsequent generations do or do not participate in transnational life.

As discussed in the start of this chapter, each of these differences is affected by higher-level, macro changes in the context of reception, and the national politics and relationship to the US and to the world system of the home and host countries. Where appropriate, I will note these briefly, while maintaining my primary focus on what can be learned from the local-level differences between the Rattvik and Ticuani cases. A first issue involves the internal logic of local-level migration processes, and how these implicate processes of institutional transplantation, adaptation and transnationalization. In both the Ticuani and Rattvik cases, there is a finite time frame within which these processes move through the migration, colonization,

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settlement and adaptation phases. Secondary migration of people in response to information sent home, and return migration of remigrants, occurs in last two phases in both cases. Rattvik’s migration begins in the 1860s and tails off in the 1910–20s, after a period of about 50–60 years. Ticuani migration begins in the 1940s, increases in the late 1960s, and explodes through the late 1980s to mid– 1990s. It shows no sign of abating today, though it has slowed as it reaches an “asymptotic stability” (Smith 1995): the majority of adults who want to go have gone, and the new migrants now are mainly the children or younger siblings of prior migrants. Hence, while Rattvik and Ticuani have both gone through the same migration phases, Ticuani continues to export people at a point in its evolution when Rattvik had already largely stopped doing so. This continued outmigration from Ticuani maintains the links with the sending community and helps support transnational activities which by this time in Rattvik’s migration life cycle had begun to decrease. This is vitally important because—as Ostergren observes above, and my own and others’ work confirms—a continuous high level of outmigration is not needed to maintain transnational life. Rather, some steady, even if relatively low, level of continued migration is needed in order to facilitate the circular visits of people and the circulation of information, gossip, money and commodities. The continuation of emigration from Ticuani and its cessation in Rattvik is due both to local-level and national or international factors that should be considered. Changes in Rattvik itself contributed to the slowing of emigration pressures, as the railroads and increased industrialization created more jobs and even occasioned in-migration from outside Rattvik (which has also begun in Ticuani in the 1990s, from the nearby state of Oaxaca). The coming of World War I also greatly decreased emigration, as sea transport became dangerous and limited. While emigration from Rattvik had already started to decrease by the time America had passed its most restrictionist legislation in 1924, this also contributed to the decrease and cessation of emigration. Ticuani’s macro context promises surer prospects for continued immigration: no world war or economic cataclysm looms on the horizon (though one can speculate that the crash of 1929 and the Depression surprised many); Mexico will experience high demographic pressure for out-migration for the next 30–50 years at least; America will continue to need low-skilled labour in the medium term at least; and, while US border enforcement has become tougher, it does not seem to have significantly decreased entrants. Finally, US immigration policy’s emphasis on family reunification assures a sizeable Mexican and Ticuani immigration for the foreseeable future. The nature of the immigrant and transnational community institutionalization offers interesting comparisons. If Rattvik’s response to migration was to create a “transplanted community”, Ticuani’s response was a form of “syncretic adaptation”. That is, where immigrants from Rattvik lived within the same basic social institutions in Minnesota and in Sweden, Ticuani’s emigrants have had to negotiate a much more varied set of American institutions and to adapt certain Ticuani institutions to that context. The large-scale transplantation of rural

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Rattvik’s social institutions to, and imposition on, geographic concentrations of emigrants in rural Isanti and Clay counties did much to extend the life of these ethnic communities, and, as Ostergren points out, to provide a “lively communication between mother and daughter communities long after the colonization phase was over” (1988, p. 280). Their geographic isolation facilitated the transformation of first-generation immigrant communities strongly linked to Rattvik into second- and third-generation “island communities” less linked to the homeland but still structured in the homeland’s image. Ticuanenses come from a similarly rural environment, with similar strong attachments to their localities and sub-county level communities, but they migrated into the urban context of New York City. While geographic concentrations of kin do occur and persist in particular apartment buildings or neighbourhoods, the community as a whole is dispersed and has no permanent territorial expression in New York. Rather, what has occurred has been the syncretic adaptation of older traditions such as faenas, or the antorcha, or the Feast of the patron saint to the context of migration and New York. The simultaneous staging of religious events in Ticuani and New York finds parallels in Rattvik and Isanti and Clay counties (Ostergren 1988). Yet for Ticuanenses the staging of such events must be done without the benefit of possessing the local institutions of the state that are linked to control of local territory and administration in the US. Rather, Ticuanenses must form relationships with the New York City Catholic Church, whose tendency as an institution is to assimilate Mexicans, not help them retain their language and customs, as was the case with the Lutheran church and Swedish schools in Isanti and Clay counties. We can speculate that this will, ironically, make Ticuani’s adapted institutions more durable than were Rattvik’s, because the former do not require absolute geographical expression to persist, while the latter did. The Ticuanense community can persist as an emergent community that is created and experienced through rituals such as sports tournaments, the celebration in New York of the Feast of Padre Jesus, and (most important for present purposes) the large-scale annual return home for this Feast, including second-generation involvement. Two other similarities in the dynamics of transnational life between Rattvik and Ticuani merit comment before we conclude the chapter with a discussion of return migration and the second generation. First, in both cases, the local political effects of return migrants happened within a domestic political context fertile for change. In Rattvik, the US temperance movement and American democratic ideas had significant effects, in large part because of Rattvik’s and Sweden’s own indigenous transformations. Rattvik’s social and economic structure were diversifying, leading to divergent interests and new economic power distributions that made democratization harder for local elites to resist. Similar processes were happening throughout Sweden. Hence, Americanized democrat remigrants came with the means and will to change things at home, but also “preached to the converted” who had already been fighting for these ends. Similarly, Ticuani’s migrants in New York intervened to defeat the cacique’s political candidate in 1998, but did so within the context of a national-level

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reform in the dominant parry’s (the PRI) candidate selection mechanisms, themselves largely the result of defections by prominent PRI politicians prevented from running for the posts they wanted by a corrupt party system. Hence we can view Americanization and democratization as causes and catalysts, rather than prime movers in and of themselves, in the transformation of Rattvik’s and Ticuani’s politics. Second, the evolution of transnational action in the Ticuani and Rattvik cases suggests an internal, local dynamic by which the home community becomes less important over time. As happened in Rattvik, there have emerged in the Ticuani case strong forces that mitigate the continued strong transnational involvement characteristic of much of Ticuani’s first generation. For example, the New York Committee does not appear to be reproducing itself by incorporating secondgeneration immigrants, or even younger new immigrants from Ticuani. As Ticuani literally empties out and becomes a nursery and nursing home, it retains a base population that sends some, but many fewer, migrants to New York. Moreover, as the most active Ticuanenses assimilate and age, I predict that their level of involvement with Ticuani will decrease and will not be duplicated in the second generation. The transnationalization that persists will be of a different kind. Analytically, the point is that transnationalization evolves as migration processes and migrants mature and age, a point not sufficiently appreciated by early analysts of transnationalization, and one which partly bears out the critique discussed in the introduction. Still, there remain important forces that will encourage transnational activity and facilitate it in the Ticuani case more than in the Rattvik case. Chief among these is the involvement in and return to Ticuani of the second generation, and to some extent of retired first-generation grandparents, which is facilitated by cheap air travel and telecommunications technology. The lack of return migration and visits by the second generation not just in the Swedish case but in other cases in the last wave of migration is confirmed by the absence of reports of it in the literature. Ostergren mentions that return migration was only about 10 per cent of all migration into the Rattvik parish through the 1890s. Given that outmigration from Rattvik was much larger than in-migration to it, this means that return migrants represented a very small percentage of Rattvik’s population (Ostergren 1988, p. 314). Moreover, nowhere in his exhaustive study does Ostergren mention any second-generation migrants returning to visit the parish. Similarly, studies of Italian migration—whose first generation return rates of between one-third and two-thirds make it a good bet for documenting such second-generation return, if it occurred with any regularity—fail to mention second-generation return. These studies include major works on Italian migration, from Foerster’s (1919) tome on Italian migration in Italy and America, to Child’s (1943) Italian or American? The Second Generation in Conflict, to more recent works on Italian migration (YansMcLaughlin 1977, 1999; Gabaccia 1999). The possibility for large-scale return by second-generation Ticuanenses without disrupting their lives in New York—for example, by returning for several days, or a week’s vacation—makes the relationship with Ticuani a much more immediate

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reality than it would have been for Rattvik’s second generation. This is ironic, because Rattvik’s returning second generation might have experienced less culture shock: they lived in the US in a Swedish world, and hence would have spoken the language, known the customs and food and religious rituals in a more intimate way than second-generation Ticuanenses. Air travel and telecommunications facilitate the participation of second-generation Ticuanenses, particularly those who prosper in New York, in Ticuani activities while they simultaneously pursue their educations, jobs and lives in New York. As mentioned above, approximately onehalf of those running in the antorcha in Ticuani are returnees, and half of these are US-born or -raised. However, the second generation’s motives and experience of return is different. Like their first generation parents, they enjoy enhanced status and celebration of their educational and career accomplishments by returning, but they understand their lives to be less closely and more casually tied to the town. Ticuani, to them, represents a safe place to dance, bring their children, and go on vacation. A further difference between Rattvik and Ticuani is that there is in fact a small but significant second-generation long-term return in Ticuani. Approximately 7 per cent of Ticuani’s students are US-born children of Ticuanense immigrants, some of whom actually continue to reside and work in New York while their children live in the houses they have built in Ticuani. This return by both the first- and second-generation Ticuanenses is absent in the Rattvik case, and it will tend to extend the life of transnational activity between Ticuani’s home and host sites for a considerable period. This chapter is conceived as an essay in historical retrieval at the local level. By comparing a contemporary case whose history was written using transnational concepts with an older case written without such concepts, I have attempted both to bring into relief those aspects of the older case that would have been more deeply understood by using transnational concepts, and to see limits to the applicability of these concepts through comparison with a case whose outcome is already known. In the process of comparison, I have also attempted to bring to light those aspects of local-level transnational life that are new and different in the contemporary period. As such, the chapter has attempted to contribute to the work of analysing transnational social spaces which are the focus on this book.

Notes 1 I would like to thank the following institutions for their support for the various projects on which this chapter draws: the Social Science Research Council, with funds provided by the Rockefeller Foundation; the National Science Foundation, Sociology Program; the Barnard Forum on Migration and Barnard College Small Grants Program; the Institute for Latin American and Iberian Studies and the Hewlett Foundation. I also thank the Editor for the invitation to present the paper in Göttingen, Germany, and contribute to this volume. 2 The Swedish case as documented in Robert Ostergren’s (1988) thorough A Community Transplanted: The trans-Atlantic experience of a Swedish immigrant settlement in the

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upper Midwest, 1835–1915, and the Mexican case analysed in my own work, see Smith 1995, 1998a, 1999b. Elsewhere I analyse how much of the impetus for creating this group came from second-generation Ticuanenses’ attempts, as low-income but often upwardly mobile Mexican Americans in poor school and neighbourhood surroundings, to differentiate themselves from the Blacks and Puerto Ricans with whom they compete for jobs, school places, and territory (Smith, 1995, 1996, 1998a).

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Massey, Douglas, and Kristin Espinosa, 1997: “What’s driving Mexico-US migration? A theoretical, empirical and policy analysis”. In: American Journal of Sociology, vol. 102, no. 4, pp. 939–999 Massey, Douglas, L.Goldring and J.Durand, 1994: “Continuities in transnational migration: An analysis of nineteen Mexican communities”. In: American Journal of Sociology, vol. 99, pp. 1492–534 Mato, Daniel, 1997: “On global and local agents and the osical making of transnational identities and related agendas in ‘Latin’ America”. In: Identities: Global Studies in Culture and Power, vol. 4, no. 2, pp. 167–212 Neiburg, Federico G., 1988: Identidad y Conflicto en la Sierra Mazateca: El caso del Consejo de Ancianos de San Jose Tenango. Mexico DF: Institute Nacional de Antropologia e Historia Ostergren, Robert, 1988: Community Transplanted: The trans-Atlantic experience of a Swedish immigrant settlement in the Upper Midwest, 1835–1915. Madison: University of Wisconsin Press Portes, Alejandro, 1995: The Economic Sociology of Immigration: Essays on networks, ethnicity and entrepreneurship. New York: Russell Sage Foundation ——, 1996: “Transnational communities: Their emergence and significance in the contemporary world system”. In: R.P.Korzeniewicz and W.C.Smith (eds), Latin America in the World Economy. Westport: Greenwood Press, pp. 151–168 ——, 1998: “Social capital: Its origins and applications in modern sociology”. In: Annual Review of Sociology, vol. 24, pp. 1–24 ——, 1999: “Conclusion”. In: Ethnic and Racial Studies, vol. 22, no. 2, pp. 463–477 Portes, Alejandro, L.Guarnizo and P.Landholdt, 1999: “Introduction: Pitfalls and promise of an emergent research field.” In: Ethnic and Racial Studies, vol. 22, pp. 217– 238 Portes, Alejandro and Ruben Rumbaut, 1994: Immigrant America. Berkeley: University of California Press Portes, Alejandro and M.Zhou, 1993: “The new second generation: Segmented assimilation and its variants”. In: Annals of the American Academy. Philadelphia: Sage Publications Pries, Ludger, 1999: “New migration in transnational social spaces”. In: Ludger Pries (ed.), Migration and Transnational Social Spaces. Aldershot: Ashgate, pp. 1–35 Rivera, Gaspar, 1998: “Political activism among Mexican transnational indigenous communities and the Mexican state”. Paper presented at the conference “States and Diasporas” organized by the Latin American Institute, held at Casa Italiana, Columbia University, May 8–9 Rumbaut, Ruben, 2000(forthcoming): Severed or Sustained Attachments? Language, identity and imagined communities in the post-immigrant generation. New York: Russell Sage Foundation Sanchez, Arturo Ignacio, 1997: “Transnational political agency and identity formation among Colombian immigrants”. Paper presented at conference on “Transnational Communities and the Political Economy of New York City in the 1990s”, New School for Social Research Sassen, Saskia, 1996: Losing Control? Sovereignty in an age of globalization, 1995 Columbia University Leonard Hastings Schoff Memorial Lectures. New York: Columbia University Press Smith, Robert, C., 1995: “‘Los ausentes siempre presentes’: The imagining, making and politics of a transnational community. PhD Dissertation, Political Science, Columbia University ——, 1996: “Mexicans in New York City: Membership and incorporation of new immigrant group”. In: S.Baver and G.Haslip Viera (eds), Latinos in New York. Notre Dame/London: University of Notre Dame Press ——, 1997: “Transnational migration, assimilation and political community”. In: Margaret Crahan and Alberto Vourvoulias-Bush (eds), The City and the World. New York: Council on Foreign Relations, pp. 110–132

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——, 1998a: “The changing nature of citizenship, membership and nation: Comparative insights from Mexico and Italy”. Paper given at Transnational Communities Programme, Manchester, England ——, 1998b: “Reflections on the state, migration, and the durability and newness of transnational life: Comparative insights from the Mexican and Italian cases”. In: Ludger Pries (ed.), Transnational Migration. Soziale Welt special issue no. 12. BadenBaden: Nomos, pp. 197–220 ——, 1999a draft (forthcoming): “Social location, generation and life course as processes shaping second generation transnational life”. In: Mary Waters and Peggy Levitt (eds), Second Generation Transnationalism. New York: Russell Sage Foundation 1999b: “Migrant membership as an instituted process: Transnationalization, the state and the extra-territorial conduct of Mexican politics”. Draft paper under review Thomas, W.I., 1921: Old World Traits Transplanted. New York: Harper Brothers (reprinted 1971, Montclair NJ: Paterson Smith) Waldinger, Roger, 1997: “Comments at the conference on ‘Transnationalization, Race and Ethnicity, and the Political Economy of Immigration to New York in the 1990s’”, New York: New School for Social Research Wolf, Eric, 1957: “The closed corporate peasant community in Mesoamerica and Java”. In: Southwestern Journal of Anthropology, vol. 13/1, pp. 1–18 Wyman, Mark, 1993: Round Trip to America. Ithaca: Cornell University Press Yans-McLaughlin, Virginia, 1977: Family and Community: Italian American immigrants in Buffalo, 1880–1930. Ithaca: Cornell University Press ——, 1999: Personal Communication to the author Zolberg, Aristide, and Robert Smith, 1996: Migration Systems in Comparative Perspective: An analysis of the inter-American migration system with comparative reference to the MediterraneanEuropean system. Report to US Department of State, Bureau of Population, Refugees and Migration

3 Disaggregating transnational social spaces Gender, place and citizenship in Mexico-US transnational spaces Luin Goldring

Introduction Mexicans living abroad are campaigning for the right to vote for President (Martínez 1998; Ross 1998). They want the political right that they feel should go along with the state’s reform allowing for double nationality, if not citizenship. They also argue that their ongoing economic and social participation in the nation is one of several bases for claiming this right, regardless of the fact that they have spent or will spend much of their working life in the United States. This extraterritorial citizenship claim, made by groups outside the national territory as well as binational coalitions, is one of a series of processes associated with the increasing transnationalization of Mexican state-society relations (Goldring 1988a, 1998b). Migration to the north is obviously not new, nor are the social networks and communities that span sites on both sides of the border. However, interest on the part of the Mexican state in cultivating relations with emigrants is relatively recent and represents, in part, a response to transmigrant practices and claims (Smith 1998; Goldring 1998a; Guarnizo 1998). During 1996–7 I conducted fieldwork on Mexican hometown organizations in Los Angeles and their relations with various levels of government in Mexico in order to learn more about state-society relations in this transnational context.1 In the course of this work I became interested in how men and women use transnational social networks and spaces differentially. In particular, I began to pay attention to where (US versus Mexico) men and women exercised different kinds of citizenship practices. This interest grew out of the recognition that men dominated in the leadership of most of the hometown clubs and umbrella associations, at least among those from the province of Zacatecas, upon which I focused. Women participated as beauty queen contestants, cooks, fundraisers, executive board secretaries, and other “feminine” activities, but they were not visible in leadership roles and thus were not seen making political claims, managing club or association budgets or community projects, or other “masculine” activities in this Mexico-oriented arena of citizenship practice. This chapter argues that it is important to disaggregate transnational social spaces by looking at who does what and where in terms of citizenship practices 59

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conducted in transnational social spaces. That is, how are the citizenship practices that take place in these spaces gendered, what kinds of claims are made, and in what specific geographic places do they take place? This represents an effort to build on the rich literature on transnationalism, and link it to contemporary work by feminist citizenship theorists and critical geographers. These questions can help to develop an approach that can add more detail to analyses of political negotiations in transnational social spaces. The approach can address questions such as why women are under-represented in home-town association leadership structures, and the gender implications of the Mexican state’s recent initiatives to reincorporate transmigrants into the nation. Addressing these issues can contribute to comparative discussions of the kinds of negotiations, hierarchies, and power relations that are produced and reproduced in transnational social spaces. What is the more general relevance of analysing how transmigrant-state relations are gendered? While gender is not the only relevant axis of differentiation, it may translate into important differences between women’s and men’s feelings of membership and belonging in the relevant nation-states, their objectives with respect to settlement and the geography of property accumulation, and practices of return migration, property acquisition, remittances, etc. They may also be associated with gendered differences in civic engagement, citizenship practices, and ways of exercising voice and claims in various sites of transnational spaces. My argument is as follows: The Mexican state privileges constructions of masculinity and femininity that locate women in roles that support men’s public participation in corporatist semi-clientelist organizations and ways of negotiating with political authorities. This obscures the political role of women in these organizations, keeping them as adornments, nurturers—passive recipients of state policy, not agents, claims-makers, or active citizens. It also constructs normative citizenship as male market membership, which is part of an effort to limit political citizenship and transform social citizenship through neoliberal policies. Faced with limited “benefits” in this relationship with political authorities and limited membership in the Mexican nation, women have little incentive to participate. In contrast, they may be more likely to participate on issues and in locations that bear a more direct relationship to their identities as women, mothers, workers, etc. The section below outlines an approach for examining the ways in which transmigrant-state relations are gendered and located in transnational spaces. The second provides a brief overview of migrant-led transnationalism and state responses in the Mexico-US context. This is followed by a section that discusses the dynamics of substantive citizenship “from the grassroots” and especially its spatial and gender differentiation. The final section offers some conclusions. Towards an approach for disaggregating transnational social spaces One of the contributions of the recent literature on transnationalism is that it has highlighted the agency of social actors in the process of international migration

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(Basch et al. 1994). This was a welcome complement to structural approaches to migration. The literature now offers analyses of a range of specific transnational social spaces, processes, and relations (Portes et al. 1999). Among other things, this work shows how transmigrants contribute in important ways to political processes “back home” (e.g. Basch et al. 1994), how states respond to transmigrants and transnationalism (Guarnizo 1998; Glick Schiller 1999), and how transnational migration is gendered (Mahler 1996). Scholars of migration to the United States have shown that men and women tend to have divergent interests and plans regarding settlement.2 In the case of Mexico-US migration, some have linked this to differences in normative gender relations in the two countries, how these are in turn associated with differences in the use of space by men and women in the two contexts (Rouse 1992; Goldring 1996), and to the relationship between the gender division of labour and gender relations on both sides of the border (Goldring 1996). Analysts examining Dominican and Mexican migration have also noted gendered differences in strategies of accumulating goods and property that are linked to differential plans for return and settlement (Grasmuck and Pessar 1991; Goldring 1996). Most of these discussions have been framed in terms of gender relations within households or families, or at a broader socio-cultural level (e.g. in terms of Mexican or Dominican notions of masculinity and femininity, or changes in gender relations associated with settlement in the US). Relatively absent in this area of migration scholarship is an analysis of how state policies and programmes influence household-level gender politics. At the same time, discussions of state responses to transnationalism have begun to analyse state relations with emigrants from particular countries (e.g. Basch et al. 1994, Glick Schiller et al. 1992), political movements (e.g. work on Haiti or the Phillippines), or ethnic or racialized groups (e.g. Kearney on indigenous Mixtec transmigrants). However, with a few exceptions (Mahler 1996; Guarnizo 1998), these studies have paid relatively little attention to how these state responses produce or reproduce hierarchies and exclusions based on gender. In what follows I propose an approach for conducting this type of analysis that draws on recent work by feminists on citizenship, and by geographers on the geography of citizenship. This approach can help us examine the “who”, “what” and “where” of citizenship practices, which I suggest is a useful way of disaggregating transnational social spaces and investigating relations between transmigrants and states. Citizenship as multi-tiered practice Citizenship is certainly not the only relevant process or relationship to examine in the interest of understanding how men and women differ in their experience of transnational migration, or how states contribute to the gendering of transnational social spaces.3 However, using citizenship as a point of entry may be useful if one is interested in understanding how family-based transnational relations are also shaped by the policies of relevant nation-states, and how gender

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relations and hierarchies are produced and/or reproduced in transnational social spaces. The utility of the concept of citizenship depends on how it is defined and used. Most mainstream as well as feminist discussions of citizenship take Marshall’s (1950) work as a point of departure, but proceed to offer important critiques. Feminist reformulations define citizenship as practice, rather than status (Stasiulis and Bakan 1997; Lister 1997; Yuval-Davis 1997). They argue that it must be understood as a dynamic and multi-tier practice (Stasiulis and Bakan 1997) that involves ongoing negotiations and struggles, not only with a central state, but with other instances and levels of political authority,4 from the local to the international. Lister (1997:33) draws attention to expanded notions of the “political” and “public good”, recasting citizenship to include collective and “informal” politics such as involvement in community organizations. These reformulations of citizenship have several advantages. Citizenship as practice supports interpretations of other forms of citizenship besides the three dimensions identified by Marshall (civil, political, and social citizenship). This might include Rosaldo’s (1994) cultural citizenship, or Schild’s (1998) market citizenship. Adding attention to local or subnational issues and politics can strengthen analyses of state power and political authority at various levels. Including “informal” politics and engagement in community organizations is consistent with calls to analyse substantive as well as de jure citizenship practices (see Brubaker 1990), and probably expands citizenship to include more of what women actually do. After all, working to improve social citizenship, regardless of one’s legal status, is what many people do when they work with community organizations, even as “clients”. It is also useful to distinguish between de jure and de facto, or substantive citizenship, where the first refers to rights and obligations formalized in legal codes, and the second and the third to actual practices. Considering the effects of inter-national hierarchies on citizenship practices (Stasiulis and Bakan 1997) enhances the macro-level analytic strength of the approach. These moves help to sidestep arguments about the declining relevance and strength of citizenship or of nation-states in shaping the membership and rights of migrants (Soysal 1994) by focusing on the actual citizenship practices of im/migrants5 or transmigrants with specific state and non-state actors. This also promotes an understanding of citizenship as occurring in “private” as well as “public” realms (Prokhovnik 1998). These shifts make the concept of citizenship more inclusive, and provide a basis for the project of developing a feminist approach to citizenship that addresses the tensions between universal rights and various kinds of difference (Lister 1997). These analytical benefits notwithstanding, most feminist scholarship on citizenship has been fairly nation-bound. Even when dealing with issues of gender, race, or ethnicity it tends to be with reference to particular nation-states. Questions about people’s relations to more than one state have been taken up relatively recently (Stasiulis and Bakan 1997). At the same time, the literature on transnationalism, while drawing attention to transnational aspects of nationbuilding and the roles of transmigrants in these processes (see Glick Schiller 1999;

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Basch et al. 1994; Anderson 1983), constructions of the nation and national membership (Smith 1998), and the transnationalization of “local” politics (Smith 1998, 1995; Goldring 1992; 1998a), has paid little attention to recent critical work on citizenship (exceptions include Ong 1993; Smith 2000; Castañeda 1998). This chapter attempts to “transnationalize” feminist work on citizenship and bring questions of citizenship practice into discussions of transnationalism. As part of this project, it is important to consider the ways in which nationalism—as well as particular state programmes and policies—inflects gender ideologies, and vice versa, because this may have a bearing on gender- (and class) based differences in the desire to sustain ties with, or degrees of involvement in, localities and countries of origin. Elsewhere (Goldring 1996) I have attributed part of the interest in maintaining transnationalized social spaces in communities of origin to a desire to have a context in which to display status and have it appropriately valued. This can be reframed in terms of a space that privileges a (patriarchal) gender hierarchy and male agency in “public” arenas. That is, we are talking about gendered citizenship practices, and spaces in which Mexican men can exercise power in ways that may not be as readily available to them in the US. In looking at citizenship practices, we should thus consider the gender ideologies that support differential citizenship practices for women and men. Concurrent discussions in the field of geography are relevant to the “where” of citizenship practice in transnational social spaces. Geographers are developing a critical literature on the “spaces of citizenship” (Painter and Philo 1995). This draws attention to the ways in which citizenship practices are exercised unevenly across space (not only social groups), and how different spaces within a given nation provide opportunities for (or limits on) citizenship practices. However, this literature is also nation-bound. Bringing a transnational optic to these insights allows us to talk about the geography or spatiality of citizenship practices in transnational social spaces.6 To sum up, I am proposing that in order to disaggregate transnational social spaces in a way that sheds light on state—society relations it is important to examine the “who”, “what”, and “where” of citizenship practices. This involves investigating the way men and women differentially practise citizenship, the kinds of claims they make, and in what specific places within transnational social spaces. It also involves examining the interaction between the practices of these actors and state policies and programmes aimed at transmigrants as a social group. One way to work on this agenda is to analyse the gendering and geography of citizenship practices, broadly conceived, in particular transnational social formations.7 This would include examining state-driven citizenship projects as well as de jure and substantive citizenship practices. It could involve mapping out women and men’s de jure and substantive civil, political, and social citizenship practices at different levels (local/regional/national/transnational) and in different national (and temporal) spaces, and uncovering other dimensions or kinds of citizenship. This should yield information about the kinds of citizen(s) and citizenship practices being constructed and negotiated by states and transmigrants, and how these are gendered and differentiated across space and

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level of political authority and analysis. Depending on the context, the role(s) of non-state actors may become increasingly relevant, particularly in settings where non-state actors and institutions take on activities being off- or down-loaded by governments implementing neoliberal agendas. In the next section I use this approach to address three questions that respond to the “who”, “where”, and “what” of citizenship practices: How do Mexican political authorities, at various levels, construct the membership and opportunities for citizenship or participation of transmigrants in Mexico, and how are these processes gendered? How do different sectors of the Mexican transmigrant population (in this case women and men) exercise citizenship practices in different national contexts? What kinds of claims do they make in these different locations? The discussion focuses on the 1990s, although some reference is made to earlier decades. Mexico-US transnational social spaces Mexicans in the US have been laying the bases for and building transnational circuits and communities since the border was created. These transnational spaces have provided a context for family-based transnationalism, and for broader forms of collective transnational organization. Through various practices that create/reproduce transnational spaces, transmigrant men and women have affirmed their sense of belonging—certainly to their localities of origin, but also to the Mexican nation. More recently, the Mexican state has begun to play a role in redefining official membership in the nation, as well as substantive citizenship in its associated transnational social space. Migrant-led transnationalism In the early part of this century men’s circular migration from Mexico to the United States was the dominant pattern, as men were recruited to work in agriculture, mining, and railroads. The prevalence of this pattern declined as greater numbers of women and children migrated to the US during the 1950s and 1960s, and migration became more urban in destination and origin (Massey et al. 1994). Women on both sides of the border have played a crucial role in developing and sustaining transnational circuits and communities, by facilitating other women’s migration (Hondagneu-Sotelo 1994), maintaining familial ties over time and across space; earning and sending remittances or spending them wisely; housekeeping for husbands and male relatives or dealing with their partners’ absence and caring for their families in Mexico; and many other ways (Goldring 1996; Gledhill 1995; Hondagneu-Sotelo 1994; Smith 1995). This “bottom-up” or transmigrant-led family- and community-level transnationalism takes on a more institutionalized form through home-town and home-state organizations, voluntary associations that usually raise money to finance projects in the home communities, but which may also be involved in activities in the US (e.g. cultural, educational, social, and sports activities). These

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transmigrant organizations are of interest to me for two reasons: they are an important target in the Mexican state’s attempts to court Mexicans abroad by redefining membership in the nation, and they represent an important arena of Mexico-oriented citizenship practice, at least for male transmigrants. Contemporary transnational home-town organization has a fairly long history in some sending areas and their associated migrant circuits, while in other cases the organizations are the result of more recent outreach by Mexican consulates (González Gutíerrez 1995). Church-related projects played an important role in the history of many organizations, as have sports teams. In many communities, initial experience with church projects led to other activities: building schools, community halls, clinics, and sports fields; drilling wells and installing drinkingwater systems; paving roads, etc. (Goldring 1992, 1996, 1998a; González Gutíerrez 1995; Smith 1995, 1998; Imaz 1995). This kind of activity points to the fact that, whether they have become US citizens or not, have documents or not, many Mexicans retain a sense of belonging to Mexico and continue to display an active interest in local as well as national issues in that country. The collective organization of Mexicans, in home-town organizations or various kinds of committees, for the kinds of purposes just outlined, has been largely male-dominated and is part of a highly gendered citizenship practice that illustrates the way aspects of transnational processes are gendered. I return to a discussion of how and why these citizenship practices are gendered below (in sections on citizenship and the 2 for 1 program). First it is important to have some background on Mexican state responses to transnationalism. State responses: from the policy of having no policy to the new Mexican nation Scholars of Mexican state policy concerning migration and emigration distinguish between the period that followed the end of the Bracero Program and lasted through the late 1980s, and the subsequent period since the Salinas administration. During the earlier period (before the late 1980s), the state largely ignored those who left the national territory—except for the Bracero Program, various ad hoc responses to US immigration policy, and periodic repatriation efforts (Sherman 1997). García y Griego (1998) sums up the Mexican state’s position on migrants during the 1970s and 1980s as that of “a policy of having no policy”. Mexicans who left were considered by Mexican authorities to have exited the imagined community of the nation. A dramatic shift in Mexican government policy towards Mexicans residing outside the national territory began to take place in the late 1980s, when the government began to reach out to Mexicans abroad in an effort to establish a new relationship with the diaspora (González Gutíerrez 1993, 1995). This was prompted by several related processes: challenges to the PRI’s hegemony and the support Cuahutémoc Cárdenas received during his “campaign” tours in the US prior to the 1988 presidential elections; the government’s desire to build a pro-NAFTA and pro-Mexico lobby among the Mexican origin population in the

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US; and an interest in fostering closer economic as well as political ties with Mexicans and people of Mexican origin in the US (González Gutíerrez 1993; Guarnizo 1998; Smith 2000; Ross 1998; Goldring 1997).8 Efforts to cultivate or court the Mexican “diaspora” began under president Salinas in the form of a series of outreach programmes aimed at different sectors of the Mexican and Mexican-origin population abroad, particularly in the United States. Most of these efforts are aimed at the average migrant worker (read rural or poor urban origin, lower education), including Solidaridad International, the short-lived international counterpart to PRONASOL (Salinas’ domestic anti-poverty programme), the Programa Paisano9 (which is supposed to improve the treatment that returning Mexicans receive at the hands of customs agents and police), and much of the Programa para las Comunidades Mexicanas en el Extranjero (Program for Mexican Communities Abroad, or PCME). The PCME is one of the most concrete, and perhaps central, elements of the state’s efforts to redefine its relationship with Mexicans abroad—more specifically, in the United States.10 The PCME is part of the Ministry of Foreign Relations and is directed by Ministry staff who also work with personnel at the Consulates and Mexican Cultural Institutes. One of the PCME’s main stated goals is to encourage Mexicans and people of Mexican origin to maintain social and cultural ties with Mexico, reinforcing national identity. It is organized around thematic programme areas which include education, culture, sports, business, health, communication and communities. The communities programme within the PCME carries out the mandate of fostering closer ties between Mexicans in the US and their places of origin. To this end, its designers astutely built on the existing organizational structure of home-town clubs and broader associations. It also promotes the creation of new clubs and umbrella organizations. Most consulates now have a staff-member assigned to “communities”, who helps organize new groups, and brings existing groups into contact with the Consulate. Between 1993 and 1995 the communities programme worked with Solidaridad International on small community projects through a matching funds programme, known as the 2 for 1, in which the federal and provincial governments each contributed a third of the cost of a project, and the US-based home-town club paid the final third. After the financial crisis of 1995 the national programme was cut, but it continued in various forms in some provinces. Zacatecas was the only province where it continued in an institutionalized manner through special agreements between the provincial government, the federal government, and the Federation of Zacatecan Clubs. Through the communities, 2 for 1, and other PCME programmes, the state is building on the nationalist sentiment and loyalty of paisanos and using their desire to “help” their communities of origin in order to construct itself as a facilitator and partner in this process. One PCME staff member framed this in terms of giving recognition to the loyalty and contributions that paisanos had been making over the years. It could also be interpreted as a strategy to gain legitimacy in a politically disaffected sector.

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Under the Zedillo administration, the outreach programmes aimed at Mexicans in the United States were translated into a historic redefinition and expansion of membership in the Mexican nation so as to include Mexicans abroad. Zedillo’s National Development Plan (1995–2000) laid out a new definition of Mexicaness by affirming that the “Mexican nation extends beyond the territory contained by its borders” (PEF 1995, p. 16). This Nación Mexicana initiative also reiterated the goal of strengthening “the cultural ties and links with Mexican communities and people of Mexican ancestry living abroad” (PEF 1995, p. 15). One way of doing this was through constitutional changes that reaffirmed the distinction between citizenship and nationality11 by establishing the non-loss of Mexican nationality (not the granting of double citizenship) for nationals who had obtained another citizenship, and permitting the recovery of Mexican nationality by the foreign-born children of Mexicans living abroad. These laws were approved in 1996 and went into effect in 1998 (Ross 1998; Martínez 1998). To sum up, Mexican transmigrants have been engaged in organizing themselves since the early part of this century to help their communities of origin. Much of this organization has been dominated by men. The Mexican state spent years largely ignoring Mexicans abroad, with no consistent policy besides repatriation, the guest-worker programme and various ad hoc policies. Starting in the late 1980s, in the midst of deep political and economic crises, the Mexican state began to take official recognition of Mexicans in the US, developing a series of outreach programmes, and, more recently, expanding the definition of the Mexican nation to include Mexicans abroad. The next section examines the implications of these changes for citizenship practices. Practised citizenship from the grassroots: what, where, and for whom? In this section I argue that the recent reforms have done little to expand citizenship opportunities for transmigrants. Any expansion that has come about is at the subnational level, and largely the result of pressure from transmigrants, generated through their substantive citizenship practices carried out in transnationalized contexts. The state offers transmigrants a symbolic incorporation that amounts to male market citizenship. Transmigrants attempt to increase the social citizenship and status of their places of origin. In so doing, they expand their substantive political citizenship. But this is a male-dominated process that reinforces male privilege in political arenas, and is structured both by the way outreach programmes work and by the way transmigrant organizations are accustomed to operate. The geography of citizenship before the recent reforms Before Salinas’ outreach programmes and Zedillo’s recent redefinition of the Mexican Nation, Mexicans living in the US were not formally excluded from citizenship rights, but in practice they were not being acknowledged as members

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of the nation, nor was the state facilitating citizenship practice. Mexicans who spent long or recurrent periods of time in the US were not legally excluded from civil, political, or social rights, with the exception of ejidatarios whose absence could lead to the loss of property rights.12 However, the actual possibilities for exercising citizenship depended on resources and location. If they had the money, they could own property. If they returned to Mexico in time to satisfy voting requirements, they could vote. Civil rights were exercised more easily in a de facto manner than political rights. As for social citizenship, one could argue, along with Ross (1998), that it was the unequal distribution and poor quality of social (as well as other citizenship) rights that drove migrants north in the first place. Migrants whose children remained in Mexico might receive benefits of social citizenship if their children were in public schools, or when they sought public health benefits. However, in practice, this dimension would be extremely compromised along with political citizenship—especially in rural areas. The citizenship rights of Mexican nationals in the US varied considerably depending on legal status, but also on the social, historical, political, and economic contexts in which they lived. To take an extreme case, naturalized citizens were not immune to deportation during the mass deportations associated with the Depression, the end of World War II and the Korean War (Operation Wetback), or during periods of xenophobia. Taking less extreme examples, we could say that undocumented Mexicans might exercise de facto or substantive civil and social rights in the US, for example by owning property, sending their children to public schools, and receiving public medical care, and that legal residents would exercise these same rights de jure, and certainly with greater security and guarantees. Naturalized citizens would, of course, have the most complete bundle of rights: de jure and presumably de facto civil, political, and social rights in the US, as well as de facto civil and perhaps some social rights in Mexico. In sum, the Mexican state offered Mexicans living abroad very limited citizenship. Although not formally excluded, in practice, their opportunities for exercising voice and being represented were rendered virtually non-existent due to their absence from the territory. They could make limited claims for protection at Consulates, and were welcome to consider themselves Mexican and keep sending money to their relatives, or return to Mexico to live and vote. But they were not acknowledged members of the nation, and did not have political rights. What kinds of citizenship practices did Mexicans in the US engage in towards Mexico? Many continued to send money home in the form of remittances. Even if motivated by the need to support family members, remittances reaffirm claims of membership in families and communities. Some also worked on community projects in Mexico as a way of covering some of the ground left vacant by a limited or retreating state sector (Goldring 1992). And others took a more public and activist position, expressing their sense of membership by supporting or making demands on the government of the day (Ross 1998; Martínez 1998). Mexicans retained a keen interest in the affairs of their communities and country of birth, although this took diverse forms. Many continued to think of

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themselves as part of the nation, whether or not this membership was legitimated from above. As for the gender of citizenship practices, it is safe to assume that men would be more likely to exercise civil (property) and political citizenship in Mexico (see below). The contemporary geography of citizenship Recent reforms providing for the non-loss or recuperation of nationality were supposed to restore civil rights of citizenship, such as the right to own property in Mexico. But if we look at the practices of Mexicans in the US, we see that many— especially those from agricultural backgrounds—continued to own property in Mexico whether they were explicitly allowed to or not (Massey et al. 1994; Ross 1998). In this respect at least, the reform of nationality law appears to represent more of a symbolic reincorporation into the national fold than a concrete expansion of citizenship rights for Mexicans abroad (Goldring 1998a). The discussions around the non-loss of nationality have also rekindled a debate about the political rights of Mexicans abroad (Ross 1998; Martínez 1998). Ross (1998) points out that Mexicans in the US have pushed for the right to vote at least since 1929. Now a new generation of activists on both sides of the border has taken up the cause, and a number of transmigrant organizations also support it. Constitutional amendments allowing Mexicans abroad to vote in Mexican federal elections were approved in 1996 (Ross 1998). However, the issue was mired in debates concerning threats to sovereignty, logistics, costs, and a definition of exactly who would be eligible to vote, and then side-tracked by a notorious bank bail-out scheme. Despite a report by a Specialists Commission struck by the Federal Electoral Institute, which found no legal, logistical, or economic argument against the vote of Mexicans abroad (Jornada, 16 November 1998), the demand for the vote for the year 2000 did not meet with success. There was clear resistance on the part of powerful elements within and outside the state to the extraterritorialization of political rights. Reincorporation and membership in the newly expanded Mexican nation did not, for the time being, offer political citizenship. Looking more closely at the geography of political citizenship under the project of the redefined Mexican nation, one sees that the site where political citizenship was being promoted was the United States. One of the less explicit but clear messages conveyed by PCME and consular staff was the promotion of US naturalization in order to defend one’s rights in that territory (Guarnizo 1998; Martínez 1998; Interviews). Here the non-loss of nationality gained even more symbolic currency. If one became a naturalized US citizen, one could retain (or apply for) Mexican nationality. One could have it both ways: be loyal to Mexico, but strategic about one’s rights and interests. Again, this represents a limit on formal political citizenship within Mexico. Thus, the citizenship being promoted is one in which political rights are exercised in the US, civil/property rights can be exercised in either country, social rights are more likely to be exercised in the US (especially by women, but

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not by the undocumented—men or women), and everyone remains patriotically loyal to Mexico. It is a symbolic citizenship, because it does not provide de jure citizenship, and a market membership driven by neoliberal policies, in that it offers limited de facto membership rather than citizenship to those who send remittances, invest in Mexico, and work with the government’s outreach programmes. Transmigrants may exercise substantive citizenship through these practices, but they are not legally codified members of the nation. Additionally, the transmigrant’s citizenship is differentiated by gender, an aspect that is treated in the following subsection. The geography and substance of transmigrant women’s citizenship In general, the political culture that surrounds the transnational organizations of Zacatecanos I studied is extremely gendered. These political groups depend on male privilege and reproduce it. Women do not occupy places of power, although they may decorate the organization’s annual magazine. It is very difficult for women to break into these male-dominated networks and organizations. As a result, women may approve of and benefit from projects carried out in their home communities, but they rarely engage in the citizenship practices associated with project implementation. Women encounter limits on their participation in leadership positions in umbrella organizations in the US, and they would face similar difficulties trying to negotiate the labyrinths of power in Mexico. What we see, as a result, is active and substantive citizenship by male transmigrants in transmigrant relations with political authorities in Mexico. This citizenship practice expands the social citizenship benefits of the communities where projects are carried out (Goldring 1998a, 1998b), which may contribute some degree of power or leverage in negotiations with Mexican authorities. It also provides transmigrant leaders with a space for performing gendered citizenship and a certain masculinity. Together, these reproduce male privilege in ways that are either not available in the US for some men, or which complement relatively high status in the US for others. State policies in the United States, together with dominant ethnic and racialized hierarchies, mean that transmigrant Mexican men usually experience a stronger relative loss in social status compared to women. Although I am not convinced that migration dramatically alters gender inequalities, at least not for first generation women, it does present challenges to male/paternal authority within the family which can generate tension even if overall gender inequality remains.13 As others have noted, this helps to explain men’s nostalgia for premigration gender relations, and their stronger desire for return (Goldring 1996; Mahler 1996; Grasmuck and Pessar 1991). What I want to emphasize here is that state policies, on both sides of the border, help to structure these processes as well. This can be seen in the kind of membership being offered by the Mexican state to transmigrants, in the operation of the 2 for 1, the organization and practices of the Zacatecan Federation umbrella organization, and in US policies

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at various levels that provided assistance to women with children (at least until the latest anti-immigrant legislation and welfare reform). Gendered differences in settlement also reflect different opportunities for the exercise of citizenship practices for men and women in Mexico and the US. These opportunities are structured in part by state policies and programmes on both sides of the border that reinforce the patriarchal family and patriarchal gender ideologies, and by male transmigrant organizations and their pursuit of highly gendered agency and citizenship, which also reinforce patriarchal relations. They are also shaped by women’s (as well as men’s) adherence to dominant gender ideologies. In a somewhat contradictory fashion, women’s own adherence to elements of patriarchal gender relations contributes to changes that may undermine male projects of return, and lead to distinctly gendered arenas and geographies of citizenship practice (e.g. the timing and location of meetings). The overall point is that transmigrant Mexican women’s substantive citizenship is extremely limited in Mexican sites of transnational spaces, and with regard to home-town projects. This raises questions of how, where and around what issues transmigrant women do engage in citizenship practices. It is clear from the literature that Mexican and other Latina women are far from passive. Rather, they are quite active around many issues, particularly those that involve obtaining or expanding social citizenship, and/or which affects their families. Transmigrant women’s citizenship can be seen when they become involved in church activities that involve community work, when they volunteer at their children’s schools, find medical attention for their families, seek legal and other assistance from community organizations and government offices, and so forth (Hondagneu-Sotelo 1994; Pardo 1999; Malkin 1998). This is not to say that transmigrant women do not participate in financing homes in their localities of origin, or that they do not favour some of the “community projects” carried out by clubs, because they do. I am referring more to their relative invisibility in transmigrant organizations. It is not only that dominant gender ideologies limit their participation in these organizations to certain types of non-leadership activities. It is also that they do not find a receptive climate, and instead focus on citizenship practices that bear a closer relationship to their gendered roles as mothers, spouses, women, cooks: those in charge of the home and social reproduction. They do this in ways that are consistent with gender ideologies that put them in the roles of primary child-care provider, cook, family health-care specialist, etc. But following through with these activities can expand substantive citizenship, as women negotiate with schools, hospitals, social service agencies and other government bureaucracies. This focuses the geography of their citizenship within the US, and often reduces their interest in participating in home-town clubs and umbrella associations. Their transnationalism remains familial, less “political” in formal and public terms. Their citizenship practices focus on the US but appear less visible when examining Mexico-US transnational social spaces.

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Conclusion The persistent commitment by many Mexicans in the US to act collectively for some version of the public good in Mexico is a significant example of transnationally exercised citizenship practice (Goldring 1998b, 1999). In most cases these groups organize in an effort to expand social citizenship in their places of origin. Some give local political authorities an incentive to provide services, as in the case of matching funds programmes (Goldring 1997, 1999; Smith 1995, 1998; Moctezuma 1998), others work without, and perhaps against, political authorities at various levels (e.g. Mixtecos; Rivera 1997). These practices often enhance social status and expand substantive political citizenship in Mexico as people deal with authorities to carry out projects (Goldring 1998a). This expansion of substantive rights takes place at a subnational level, since Federal authorities have not formally recognized the citizenship of transmigrants. Instead, the state offers a symbolic and market membership or reincorporation, while substantive citizenship is practised in some provincial and municipal contexts. I have argued that these citizenship practices are gendered, and that this may make for distinct geographies for various dimensions of citizenship among transmigrant women and men. State policies and programmes, Mexican political culture, and the organization of home-town clubs and umbrella organizations facilitate active male citizenship while relegating women’s participation to traditional roles as cooks, mothers, or beauty queens. Women have little opportunity to exercise substantive political citizenship within this transnational context. Instead, they tend to engage in substantive citizenship that is oriented toward expanding social citizenship for their families in the US. This tendency may be shaped by conformity to “traditional” gender norms. However, it may lead to tensions as women’s US-oriented substantive citizenship may lead to divergent long-term plans. This is consistent with earlier work on divergent and gendered interests in settlement, but adds a focus on state-transmigrant relations. Further work is needed to examine the changing opportunities and constraints for citizenship practices in the US, particularly in the context of reforms affecting social citizenship benefits.

Notes 1 This chapter is based on research supported by a post-doctoral fellowship from the Social Science Research Council which was carried out while I was a visiting researcher at the North American Integration and Development Center at UCLA. I am grateful to both institutions. A revised version of this chapter will be published in Identities in 2001. 2 See Grasmuck and Pessar (1991) for a discussion of this issue in the case of Dominican migration, Hondagneu-Sotelo (1994) and Goldring (1996) for Mexican migration, Mahler (1996) for migration from El Salvador. 3 Anthias and Yuval-Davis (1989) pointed out that citizenship does not capture the full range of state-society relations, but nevertheless deserves the attention of feminists

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5

6

7

8

9 10 11 12

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interested in gender and nation-building processes. I am simply extending the point to analyses of state—society relations from a transnational perspective. Nelson (1998) uses the term “political authorities” to refer to the various levels of “the state” that Cheranenses engage through their citizenship practices and discourse. This is a useful way of disaggregating the state and recognizing the multitiered quality of citizenship practices. I used “(im)migrants” in my dissertation (Goldring 1992), before finding the term “transmigrant” and the literature on transnationalism (e.g. Bash et al. 1994). Use of the term “(im)migrants” or “im/migrants”, while not as theoretically sophisticated as “transmigrants”, was a way of referring to people labelled “immigrants” who maintained ties to their places of origin, ties that rendered problematic their assumed permanent settlement and incorporation in the US. It should be noted that Rouse (1992) and Goldring (1992) discussed the differentiation of social space in transnational contexts, and that analysts have also pointed to the differential gendered use of space by transmigrants (Rouse 1992; Goldring 1996; Mahler 1996). A note on terminology is in order, because of some confusion created by the different ways in which people use terms like “transnational communities” or “transnational spaces”. I follow Basch et al.’s (1994) by now well-known definition of transmigrants. My use of the following terms is conditioned by my fieldwork. I use transnational communities to describe transnational spaces linked to particular localities or small regions of origin. I use transnational social space(s) to describe more generalized processes, and transnational social formation to describe the transnational social spaces developed by transmigrants from particular countries (e.g. Dominican-US transnational social formation). Although it would be useful to agree on a general set of terms, the specific forms generated by transmigrants and state responses to transnationalism may vary and require context-specific and comparative research. Growing anti-immigrant hysteria and legislation in the US, particularly California, would later add to the rationale for increasing the profile of Mexican Consulates, and for the new policy of encouraging naturalization as a way for Mexicans to defend their rights (Martinez 1998; Guarnizo 1998; Interviews). Paisano means someone from the same country or region, so this is the fellowMexican Program. See Smith (1995, 1998); Guarnizo (1998); González Gutíerrez (1995) and Goldring (1997, 1998) for further discussions of the PCME. Citizenship in Mexico is not automatic or synonymous with nationality; rather, it can be acquired by those who satisfy certain requirements when they reach the age of 18. I am grateful to Jesus Martinez and Leticia Calderón for pointing this out. Ejidatarios are members of ejidos, which refers both to a form of collective property rights and the social organization that regulates them at the local level. Ejido rights provide use rights to resources. In 1992, constitutional changes allowed for the privatization of ejidos. However, a majority remain unprivatized. In theory, ejidatarios ran the risk of losing property rights through prolonged absence. In practice, US earnings allowed some to buy ejido and/or private property. It may be naive to expect immigrant women to overcome patriarchal inequalities when US society remains patriarchal, despite many significant changes.

Bibliography Anderson, Benedict, 1983: Imagined Communities: Reflections on the origin and spread of nationalism. London: Verso Anthias, Floya, and Nira Yuval-Davis, 1989: “Introduction”. In: Nira Yuval-Davis and Floya Anthias (eds), Women, Nation, State. London: Macmillan, pp. 1–15

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Basch, Linda, Nina Glick Schiller and Cristina Szanton Blanc, 1994: Nations Unbound: Transnational projects, postcolonial predicaments, and deterritorialized nation-states. Amsterdam: Gordon & Breach Brubaker, William Rogers, 1990: “Immigration, citizenship, and the nation-state in France and Germany: A comparative historical analysis”. In: International Sociology, vol. 5 (4), pp. 379–407 Castañeda Gómez del Campo, Alejandra, 1998: “Transnational politics: Political culture and Mexican migration to the United States”. Dissertation Proposal, Anthropology, University of California-Santa Cruz García y Griego, Manuel, 1998: Paper presented at the Workshop on “Migration, Remittances, and Development”, Universidad Autónoma de Zacatecas, Zacatecas. July 15 and 16 Gledhill, John, 1995: Neoliberalism, Transnationalization and Rural Poverty: A case study of Michoacán, Mexico. Boulder: Westview Press Glick Schiller, Nina, 1999: “Transmigrants and nation-states: Something old and something new in the US immigrant experience”. In: Josh de Wind (ed.), America Becoming: Becoming American. New York: Russell Sage/SSRC Glick Schiller, Nina, Linda Basch and Cristina Blanc-Szanton (eds), 1992: Towards a Transnational Perspective on Migration: Race, class, ethnicity and nationalism reconsidered. New York: New York Academy of Sciences Goldring, Luin, 1992: “Diversity and Community in Transnational Migration: A Comparative Study of two Mexico-US Migrant Circuits”. Ph.D dissertation, Department of Rural Sociology, Cornell University ——, 1996: “Blurring borders: Constructing transnational community in the process of Mexico-US migration”. In: Research in Community Sociology, vol. 6, pp. 69–104 ——, 1997: “The Mexican state and transmigrant organizations: Reconfiguring the nation, citizenship and state-society relations?” Paper presented at the XX International Congress of the Latin American Studies Association. Guadalajara, Mexico, April 17– 19 ——, 1998a: “The power of status in transnational social spaces”. In: Comparative Urban and Community Research, vol. 6, pp. 165–195 ——, 1998b: “From market membership to transnational citizenship?”, “The changing politization of transnational social spaces”. In: L’Ordinaire Latino-America in (University of Toulouse) 173–174, pp. 167–172 ——, 1999: “Desarrollo, migradólares y la participación ‘ciudadana’ de los norteños en Zacatecas”. In: Miguel Moctezuma and Héctor Rodríguez Ramírez (eds), Impacto de la Migración y las Remesas en el Crecimiento Económico Regional. Mexico DF: Senado de la República González Gutíerrez, Carlos, 1993: “The Mexican diaspora in California: The limits and possibilities of the Mexican government”. In: Abraham Lowenthal and Katrina Burgess (eds), The California-Mexico Connection. Stanford: Stanford University Press, pp. 221–235 ——, 1995: “La organization de los inmigrantes mexicanos en Los Angeles: La lealtad de los oriundos”. In: Revista Mexicana de Politica Exterior, vol. 46, pp. 59–101 Grasmuck, Sherri, and Patricia Pessar, 1991: Between Two Islands: Dominican international migration. Berkeley: University of California Press Guarnizo, Luis Eduardo, 1998: “The rise of transnational social formations: Mexican and Dominican state responses to transnational migration”. In: Political Power and Social Theory, vol. 12, pp. 45–94 Hondagneu-Sotelo, Pierrette, 1994: Gendered Transitions: Mexican experiences of immigration. Berkeley: University of California Press Imaz, Cecilia, 1995: “Las organizaciones por lugar de origen de los Mexicanos en Estados Unidos (California, Illinois y Nueva York)”. Paper presented at the XX. Congreso de la Asociación Latinoamericana de Sociologia, Mexico City, October 1–5

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Lister, Ruth, 1997: “Citizenship: Towards a feminist synthesis”. In: Feminist Review, vol. 57, pp. 28–48 Mahler, Sarah J., 1996: “Bringing gender to a transnational focus: Theoretical and empirical ideas”. Unpublished manuscript, University of Vermont, Department of Anthropology Malkin, Victoria, 1998: “The family and gender in transmigrant circuits: A case study of migration between western Mexico and New Rochelle, New York”. Ph.D Dissertation, University College of London, Department of Social Anthropology Marshall, Thomas H., 1950: Citizenship and Social Class, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press Martínez Saldaña, Jesus, 1998: “Las Instituciones para la democracia en éexico: Su fracaso ante la emigración”. Manuscript in progress. Massey, Douglas, Luin Goldring and Jorge Durand, 1994: “Continuities in transnational migration: An analysis of nineteen Mexican communities”. In: American Journal of Sociology, vol. 99 (6), pp. 1492–1533 Moctezuma, Miguel, 1998: “Redes sociales, comunidades y familias de migrantes: Sain Alto, Zac. en Oakland, Ca”. Ph.D Dissertation (Final Draft). Tijuana: Colegio de la Frontera Norte Nelson, Lise, 1998: “Las que defienden el pueblo: Emerging discourses and practices of citizenship in Cherán, Michoacan”. Presented at the 1998 meeting of the Latin American Studies Association, Chicago, September 24–26 Ong, Aihwa, 1993: “On the edge of empires: Flexible citizenship among Chinese in diaspora”. In: Positions, vol. 1 (3), pp. 745–778 Painter, Joe, and Chris Philo, 1995: “Spaces of citizenship: An introduction”. In: Political Geography, vol. 14 (2), pp. 107–120 Pardo, Mary, 1999: “Gendered citizenship: Mexican American women and grassroots activism in east Los Angeles, 1986–1992”. In: David Montejano (ed.), Chicano Politics and Society in the Late Twentieth Century. Austin: University of Texas Press, pp. 59–79 PEF (Poder Ejecutivo Federal), 1995: “Plan Nacional de Desarrollo, 1995–2000”, Diario Oficial de la Federación, 31 de mayo. Mexico DF: Secretaría de Hacienda y Crédito Público Portes, Alejandro, Luis Guarnizo and Patricia Landolt, 1999: “The study of transnationalism: Pitfalls and promise of an emergent research field”. In: Ethnic and Racial Studies, vol. 22 (2), pp. 217–237 Prokhovnik, Raia, 1998: “Public and Private Citizenship”. In: Feminist Review, vol. 60, pp. 84–104 Rivera Salgado, Gaspar, 1997: Movimientos Sociales Transfronterizos: Reporte Evaluativo Comisionado por la Fundación Oxfam-America (Unpublished report) Rosaldo, Renato, 1994: “Cultural Citizenship and Educational Democracy”. In: Cultural Anthropology, vol. 9 (3), pp. 402–441 Ross Pineda, Raúl, 1998: “El voto incómodo”. In: Masiosare. La Jornada (Sept. 13), (accessed 13 September, 1998). Rouse, Roger, 1992: “Mexican Migration and the Social Space of Postmodernism”. In: Diaspora, vol. 1 (1), pp. 8–23 Schild, Veronica, 1998: “Market citizenship and the ‘new democracies’: The ambiguous legacies of contemporary Chilean women’s movements”. In: Social Politics, vol. 5 (2), pp. 232–249 Sherman, Rachel, 1997: “From state introversion to state extension: Mexico’s emigrants and the politics of return, 1900–1996”. Manuscript, University of California, Berkeley Singer, Audrey and Greta Gilbertson, 2000 “Naturalization in the wake of AntiImmigrant Legislation: Dominicans in New York City.” Working Paper Number 10,

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International Migration Program. Washington D.C.: Carnegie Endowment for International Peace, (Feb. 2000) Smith, Robert C., 1995: “Los ausentes siempre presentes: The imagining, making and politics of a transnational community between New York and Ticuani, Puebla”. Ph.D Dissertation, Department of Political Science. Columbia University ——, 1998: “Transnational Localities: Community, technology and the politics of membership within the context of Mexico and US migration”. In: Comparative Urban and Community Research, vol. 6, pp. 196–238 ——, 2000: “The transnational practice of migrant politics and membership: An analysis of the Mexican case with some comparative and practical reflections”. In: Hector Rodríguez and Miguel Moctezuma (eds), Migración Internacional y Desarrollo Regional. Mexico DF: Senado de la República y Universidad Autónoma de Zacatecas Soysal, Yasemin, 1994: Limits of Citizenship: Migrants and postnational membership in Europe. Chicago: University of Chicago Press Stasiulis, Daiva, and Abigail B.Bakan, 1997: “Negotiating citizenship: The case of foreign domestic workers in Canada”. In: Feminist Review, vol. 57, pp. 112–139 Yuval-Davis, Nira, 1997: “Women, citizenship and difference”. In: Feminist Review, vol. 57, pp. 4–27

4 Transnational families Institutions of transnational social space Fernando Herrera Lima

Transnational social space and the institution of family In addition to the better-known processes of globalization, in which the main participants are those who control international finance, politics, and communications media, current phenomena demonstrate that there are processes globalizing social life from the grassroots level. One of these is international migration, which often takes place outside of legal frameworks designed to control migrations between nation states. International migration continues despite hindrances posed by state sovereignty, border controls, or political legislation. However, it goes beyond the simple evasion of established norms for the international traffic of people and goods; it also generates new pluri-localized, partially deterritorialized social realities. As a result of international migration, an accumulative process of network construction based on social relations has taken place, generating institutions, infrastructures, identitary forms, and cultural expressions of a decidedly transnational character. Due to migratory processes, both material and symbolic resources are transplanted from where migration originates to regions where migrants settle and vice versa. Thus, the regions where migrants settle and the regions from which they migrate, are appropriated, recreated, and transformed through the collective actions of the migrants themselves. We refer to these new social realities as “transnational social spaces”. Based on research on transnationalism and migration (see Rouse 1991; Glick Schiller et al. 1992; Massey et al. 1994; Smith 1995; Faist 1995; Goldring 1996) we developed a concept of transnational social space as a densified and institutionalized framework of social practices, symbol systems and artifacts that span pluri-locally over different national societies. Transnational social spaces emerge within the setting of international migration systems as the specific legal and administrative framework of inter-state regulations and the corresponding historical and structural customs and practices of inter-national interchange. Guided by this focus on transnational social spaces, we conducted a sociological research between 1994 and 1999.1 This project aimed at looking for empirical evidence and detailed knowledge about emerging transnational social 77

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spaces by collecting and reconstructing (‘objective’) work and life trajectories and (‘subjective’) work and life histories of persons who migrated at least once from Mexico to the USA. Using a mix of quantitative and qualitative anthropologicalsociological methods, the research focused on five contrasting sending areas in the Puebla-Tlaxcala region in Mexico and the New York City metropolitan area. A total of 648 questionnaires with about 150 person-oriented and twenty-four job-event-oriented variables and also about fifty recorded life histories of migrants were conducted.2 In an initial consideration of the results of the applied survey, Pries (2000a) developed a typology of four different “ideal types” of migrants. Besides the classical and well-known types of emigrants/immigrants, return migrants and diaspora migrants, there emerges a new type of international migrant: the transmigrant, whose life is affected by, and spans between, events in both his or her place of origin and his or her place of arrival. Regarding the effects that family ties have on these processes, Pries argues: In general terms, we can summarize that migrants go to the United States to earn money and return to Mexico both for family reasons and because of dissatisfaction with their employment. They rarely return to Mexico because of problems finding work, problems with their legal status, or problems of racism, but, rather, it is ‘family ties’ that pull migrants back to their regions of origin. (Pries 2000a, p. 73f.) This chapter deals with one of the most important social institutions that makes possible the operation and persistence of transnational social spaces: the transnational family. Defining transnational families as a specific and essential institution of transnational social spaces is a somewhat risky endeavor. First it must be demonstrated that, in reality, there exist families worthy of being referred to as transnational; then, it must be proved that such families indeed play a major role within transnational social spaces. Here we seek to develop an initial characterization of the transnational family by using the empirical knowledge available. We will also demonstrate that migrants’ work trajectories and employment experiences illustrate the relevance of transnational families as fundamental elements of transnational social spaces. Before proceeding further, it should be pointed out that transnational families, both nuclear and extended, are dispersed across international borders, and their members tend to spend periods of time in one or the other country and for a variety of reasons. They consist of children, parents, siblings, brothers-in-law, uncles, nephews, godfathers and godmothers on both sides of the border. Their geographical location is fluid. They come and go on vacation and may stay for periods that are not previously determined. They may have properties and businesses—sometimes on both sides of the border—and, more importantly, they develop their work trajectories and projects in each of the two countries.

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With or without the necessary legal documents, travelling between the USA and Mexico is always possible for the transnational family. Thus, a Mexican citizen legally residing in the USA will not necessarily remain there. Nor has a migrant who has explicitly declared his definitive return to Mexico necessarily lost interest in obtaining or maintaining legal status in the United States. In fact US residency is such a valuable asset that even those who do not think they will return to live in the United States make major efforts to preserve residency status and/or pass this status on to their children and spouses. Making a definitive decision to remain permanently in Mexico or the United States makes little sense for migrants who have properties, businesses, or relatives spread throughout both countries, for example. Those who have never migrated—or, more precisely, those who do not come from a town or village where the residents are accustomed to cross the border to the US—may consider crossing the border and settling in the USA as one singular significant, complex, and life-altering step. But for those who have migrated one or more times, or have family or close friends who have migrated to the US, migration is always a possibility, even at times when anti-immigrant barriers have been strengthened, as is currently the case along the US-Mexico border. One area in which transnational families play a key role is in the distribution of work-related information. Information regarding employment opportunities and job requirements flows through transnational family networks. Crucial decisions concerning migration are made within transnational families. Such decisions consist of when to migrate, where to migrate to, and who within the family should migrate.3 In addition, the migrants’ jobs themselves may be generated within these transnational families. Above all, a cultural configuration within transnational families has been reinforced, with tremendous weight in its norms and values, loyalties and commitments: the pattern that personal and working-career-related decisions are made in the broader (transnational) family context. Based on the experiences of many transnational families, it is necessary to challenge an assertion frequently made about migration: that migratory activity is responsible for so-called “family disintegration”. The experiences of transnational families make it possible to conceptualize a type of “family reconfiguration” that has transnational dimensions. To develop this notion of “family reconfiguration”, we will present below the structure and history of a transnational family.

The family of Doña Rosa and its transnationalization process The information for the following analysis of a transnational family comes from a large number of tape recordings we made of discussions with members of the family of Doña Rosa4 in their home town in Mexico and in New York City. We also had many informal and friendly social encounters with members of the

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“Rosa” family. These more informal conversations were usually held in one of the two hotels that one member of the Rosa family, Ricardo, owns in his home town in Mexico, or in his restaurant in Yonkers in the USA. The information the Rosa family provided us with, and the honesty and warmth they showed us, was invaluable. Before embarking on an analytic description of this family, it is necessary to make one point clear. The Rosa family is a migration success story; it has grown to be very successful, but only after several decades of hard work and effort as well as periods of scarcity and privation. The hardships of the Rosa family are quite representative of the hardships experienced by most Poblano and Tlaxcalteca migrants in New York City. The success that the family has achieved is rather exceptional, though. It is important to emphasize this in order to prevent a reading of the following section creating an over-optimistic image of migration. The family of Doña Rosa that we present here is composed of four generations of migrants: 1 2 3 4

Doña Rosa and her half-brothers and sisters; Doña Rosa’s children, each of which has a different father: Antonio, Aurora, Guadalupe, Ricardo and Laura; Doña Rosa’s grandchildren; and Doña Rosa’s great-grandchildren.

We will firstly present the overall family structure, and then describe a typical and important family encounter—the Saint’s Day Festival—to analyse some mechanisms of transnational family reproduction. Scene 1: the family members A documentary film on the Rosa family would show Doña Rosa (half-sister, mother, grandmother and great-grandmother to migrants, and a migrant herself) in her home in the Bronx or in one of the businesses (restaurants, a butcher’s shop, a warehouse, and a tortilla mill) that her children own and run in Yonkers. We would see the oldest of her children, Antonio, in the Mexican restaurant he owns jointly with his sister Guadalupe, which is located opposite his butcher’s shop (managed by his oldest son and his daughter-in-law) and quite near his new seafood restaurant. Antonio would be chatting cheerily with friends, who would be laughing at his jokes. Then, with his characteristic humour, Antonio would tell his guests of his most difficult and sad experiences as a migrant, first in Mexico and later in New York City. He would also explain how he went from being a dishwasher to a businessman, via work as a chickenplucker, a salesman of saints’ images, a musician, and an organizer of dances for Mexicans living in New York City. The reason his friends have dropped by is probably to pick up one of the many donations that members of the compatriots’, or paisanos committee collects amongst transmigrants. These donations are used to carry out civil

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and religious projects in Mexico, or to support the Saint’s Day Festival that takes place every January in Antonio’s home town in southern Puebla; Antonio’s relatives in New York and New Jersey have never failed to make such donations. Antonio is particularly proud of helping to finance the rodeo held at the Saint’s Day Festival every year. Among the friends visiting him will be a tall, blond police officer whom Antonio always invites to the Saint’s Day Festival in Puebla. We would also see the youngest of Doña Rosa’s daughters attending to her children and her house, which is located in a pleasant wooded area in northern New York State not far from Yonkers (where her husband is the co-owner of a Mexican tortilla factory). We would see Doña Rosa’s youngest son, Ricardo, running the store that he opened last year and which has allowed him to abandon the profitable yet exhausting business of managing a door-to-door sales route. Ricardo’s success in business ventures, such as helping out in his brother’s restaurant and organizing dances for Mexican migrants, has also allowed him to save enough money to build a hotel in the family’s home town in the Mixteca region of Puebla. On a Saturday Antonio would likely be preparing to set up on Sunday the stand where he sells Mexican fast-food snacks (tostadas, gorditas, fruit and vegetables with chili), beer, and Cuba Libres (rum and cola) during the Mexican soccer season in northern Manhattan. For many years Ricardo and Doña Rosa have staffed this stand on the soccer fields that belong to the Mixteco-Poblano organizations and are lent out to nearly seventy teams that compete each Sunday

Figure 4.1 The transnational family of Doña Rosa

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in the running for an annual championship. The Rosa family works together on many business activities. As Ricardo has always helped out his mother, so she has also done the same for other family members. For example, when Aurora decided to open her own restaurant and hotel in Mexico, the management was turned over to a group of people who proved not to meet the family’s expectations. So Doña Rosa flew to Mexico and took charge of the restaurant and hotel for almost a whole year. In our imaginary documentary on the Rosa family, we would also find Aurora, Doña Rosa’s oldest daughter, in the family’s home town in Mexico. Aurora would be with her youngest son, a two-year-old who was born in New York, in the kitchen of the small restaurant that she launched in 1996. Aurora was able to open her own restaurant by saving the money she earned during the five years that she worked in her brother Ricardo’s hotel, which is also in the family’s home town. Aurora used the earnings from her first, and largely unsuccessful, experience as a migrant in New York City to buy the land on which she is now completing the construction of a new home. As a legal resident of the United States since 1984, Aurora has also been able to visit her new granddaughter in New York City. This granddaughter is the child of Aurora’s oldest daughter, who is married and lives in New York with a paisano (a native of a village near Mixteca Poblana) who sells beer as a commission agent in charge of a large commercial transport unit. We would see Doña Rosa’s second daughter, Guadalupe, attending to customers in her business, located in the centre of the town, a few metres from her sister Aurora’s restaurant, and three blocks from her brother Ricardo’s hotel. Serving as a furniture store, supermarket, and construction material outlet, Guadalupe’s business is multifaceted to say the least. The money used to start these businesses came from the money that Señora Guadalupe and her husband saved when they worked in New York City during the 1960s (they returned to Mexico when they became parents for a second time and decided that they didn’t want their children to be raised and educated in New York City). But their return to Mexico was no reason for Señora Guadalupe to cut her ties with the United States. With her brother Antonio, she is still the co-owner and coadministrator of the Mixteca Poblana restaurant in Yonkers, and every year Guadalupe spends a few months in Yonkers, in order to attend directly to the running of the restaurant. Meanwhile, her husband, who was the first ex-migrant to become the town’s municipal president, generally stays behind in Mixteca to attend to the family’s businesses there. A documentary on the Rosa family would include many other people, but we’ll only mention one more: a young woman with a several-month-old daughter who is in charge of her uncle Ricardo’s hotel in the family’s home town. Born in New York City in the early 1970s, she is a US citizen, but she later emigrated to Mexico, where she studied and almost finished professional-level courses. She gave up her studies to marry a migrant, a native of Mixteca Poblana, who lives in New York City. The couple recently had a baby girl, who was also born in New York City, where the husband still works as a cook in a

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restaurant. The young woman herself can, and may, return to New York City at any time to settle there permanently or temporarily. Scene 2: the home-town festival The imaginary documentary scene described above might be deceptive, since it would not convey the complexity of the lives led by members of the Rosa family. A second scene would give us a better appreciation of the movements and dynamics that characterize the family. Let’s assume that this second scene was filmed in January 1997, during the Saint’s Day Festival. From the data provided thus far, we might have an image of a family that, despite periods of time spent in the US, is always able to re-establish its presence in Mexico quite easily. But this image would be inaccurate. Although some family members have adopted new customs, consumption habits, or life styles, the Rosa family has never taken leave of its origins. The yearly Saint’s Day Festival captures the family’s characteristic mobility and the transnational sense of belonging. Around noon on the Saint’s Day, family members would be found in their home town, in the kitchen of the restaurant at Ricardo’s hotel. Some would be preparing ingredients for various dishes or cooking, others would be playing with nephews, grandchildren, or great-grandchildren. In all, at least four generations of transmigrants would be represented. During the two weeks that the festivities last (the first week is of a religious character, the second more civil in nature) members of the Rosa family take the opportunity to meet relatives and friends, and they also renew contact with the customs and traditions of their home town. But the Saint’s Day Festival is also a time when traditional customs are affected by new customs introduced by those who live and work in New Jersey and New York. The ways in which the Saint’s Day festivities are celebrated demonstrates how traditional customs are altered by those who have migrated.5 A culminating point of the Saint’s Day celebration is a race from the Villa de Guadalupe in Mexico City to the town church. Many years ago, we were told, this race was not held, but instead a local procession was organized. The shift from a procession to a race could not have occurred without the involvement of three groups of participants. The first group is the local organizers of the festivities: the priest, the municipal authorities, and those in charge of organizing the festivities. The second group consists of the migrants who raise funds amongst the migrants working in New York City and New Jersey. The money donated by migrants in New York City and New Jersey is used for both civic and religious projects, such as the purchase of the bicycles and uniforms used during the Saint’s Day race. The third group is composed of the participants themselves: young men and women, who reside in New York, New Jersey, and Mexico. Many compatriots attend these festivities year after year (even those who are not legal residents of the United States), but those who cannot attend can participate indirectly in the Saint’s Day festivities in two ways: the more traditional means of indirect participation is viewing of film footage taken by members of the organizing

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committee or transmigrants; the other, more recently developed, method is made possible by the live broadcast of the ceremonies and festivities. Scene 3: the family’s origins and history To get an idea of the family’s origins, let us return to our hypothetical documentary. A third scene, set towards the end of the 1960s, would show a still young Doña Rosa shouldering the great responsibility of raising her children on her own, without the help of the children’s fathers. If footage had been taken on a Wednesday, Doña Rosa would have been up since dawn. We would see her preparing and selling food on a market stall in a neighbouring village, which is separated from her own town by only a street, in order to take advantage of the tremendous flow of people attracted by a weekly cattle market. Doña Rosa’s main assistant would be her son Antonio, who would be bringing utensils, raw materials, and water from their house to the market. Also at the stall would be the young Guadalupe, a barefoot primary school pupil who, in addition to helping out at her mother’s food stall, would be seeing to the management of her own nearby beer stand. Guadalupe set this up on her own initiative when she realized that such a venture would provide her with a strong return; and the stand marked the beginning of her outstanding business career. Doña Rosa’s two younger children would not be in our third imaginary scene. Due to their age at that time, they would be sleeping or playing under their maternal grandmother’s supervision. Nor would Doña Rosa’s eldest daughter appear in our documentary. Because of her difficulty in getting along with people, she would be at the family home, washing clothes, cleaning, taking care of the animals, and preparing the raw ingredients for the food that Doña Rosa would later sell at her market stall. The time-spans between our three imaginary scenes are filled with a rich and complex family history, of which a brief synthesis will be presented now. Doña Rosa’s half-brothers and sisters migrated to different parts of the United States during the 1960s, but, because of sparse contact, their experiences were not transmitted directly to Doña Rosa and her children. Then, in the early 1970s, a migrant from a neighbouring village returned from New York to seek a young woman who might want to marry him and accompany him on his return trip north, where he had been working for about two years. In the village he met a 13–year-old girl, recently out of primary school, who sold beer and helped her mother sell food at the Wednesday cattle market. For reasons that will be discussed later, it was not easy for this young man to convince Guadalupe of his seriousness, but a marriage proposal and a promise to help her family members emigrate to the US convinced her of the young migrant’s sincerity. When the couple left for New York, Doña Rosa’s eldest son, Antonio, accompanied them. Antonio left behind childhood, adolescent, and teenage years rich in experiences, challenges and hard times. It was during his adolescence that Antonio gained his most valuable character traits: an interest in adventure and enjoying life, on the one hand, and, on the other, a willingness to

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learn and correctly complete any job or task given to him. Antonio began his itinerant work career by plucking and skinning chickens in a town near his native village. Later he helped a travelling salesman by accompanying him in his van and travelling from the Las Palomas station, between Tehuitzingo and Acatlán, to the southern part of the state of Puebla, on the road leading to Tlapa, Guerrero. Later on, in Mexico City, Antonio worked at a variety of jobs. From Mexico City, Antonio went to northern Mexico, where he travelled from village to village selling images of saints (he is fond of saying that at this time in his life he was Judas—because he was going around selling Christ). Travelling to the USA was the next step in an itinerant life that has continued to the present. When they arrived, Guadalupe, her husband, and Antonio found work in garment factories in New York, also known as sweatshops. Later on, Antonio began what would be a successful career in the restaurant business. In fact, despite having worked in several fields, the occupation that has come to symbolize Antonio’s work history is restaurant work.

Working areas and careers The history of Rosa’s family reveals the incrementally growing complexity of a transnational family network. The social space in which the members of this transnational family move, decide their working careers, develop their selfesteem, reproduce social norms and symbol systems, etc., spans several places in two countries. The flows of people, goods and symbols are not unilinear, as in the case of emigration/immigration. We see a continuing and two-way movement in a transnational social space. As this is essentially based on international labour migration, the specific “points of entry” into the US labour market and the typical working careers are of specific interest. To a great extent, the success story of Rosa’s family is the history of its members’ upward progress in the labour market. Following in the tracks of Rosa’s family with this in mind, we now analyse some typical work areas of Mexican migrants in New York, beginning with the field in which most of the Rosa family began. The sweatshops The numbers of the Rosa family living in New York City began to expand soon after they arrived. Guadalupe and her husband had a son almost immediately after arriving, and the next year they had a daughter. In addition, the rest of the family began to follow in the footsteps of the family members who had already migrated. Doña Rosa was accompanied by her eldest daughter (who had already spent time apart from the family, working as a maid, first in Chiapas and later in Mexico City, where an aunt had found work for her). Doña Rosa found work quickly in New York City as maid, but it was more difficult for her daughter to settle into a career because of her inability to speak English and her marked shyness. These disadvantages led the daughter to quit her first job as a domestic

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worker and to obtain employment in various sweatshops. These experiences were extremely hard, and led her to return to her home town two years later. Aurora, as well as Guadalupe and her husband, were employed in sweatshops, establishments that represent one of the main sources of income for Mexicans in New York City. Sweatshops (small shops or factories producing finished articles of clothing and accessories, plastic goods, or metallic parts6) have been studied extensively (Ross and Trachte 1982; Leichter et al. 1981; Sassen 1991) and are establishments that operate, in several senses, on the fringes of legal and governmental regulations. But sweatshops are tolerated because, among other factors, they help to maintain the competitiveness of the US clothing industry. In these factories most employees are undocumented immigrants, usually young women (at present, mostly Mexican and Ecuadorean), hired off the books through verbal agreements, at salaries below the established minimum wage and without the work benefits generally associated with industrial labour. Working conditions in the sweatshops combine daily shifts of ten or twelve hours with a shop-floor environment full of noise, dust, and flying particles of work materials. Work is carried out with manual tools and electricpowered, automated machines that carry out elementary cutting and assembly operations, and depends to a great degree on the skill and dexterity of the work force. Nevertheless, no type of previous training is needed to work in these shops; any necessary training is acquired “on the job”. No exams nor credentials of any type are needed to get hired in these establishments, nor, in general, are recommendations necessary. Rather, those who arrive at a sweatshop asking for employment are hired entirely at the discretion of those doing the hiring, who are generally also the owners, administrators, and shopfloor foremen7. In the sweatshop industry social networks basically serve to inform recently arrived migrants of the locations and characteristics of the sweatshops. These networks also serve for the exchange of information regarding, for example, employers who engage in deceitful practices over the payment of wages. Returning to the Rosa family, it should now be mentioned that Doña Rosa’s two youngest children, who remained in Mexico under the care of their maternal grandmother, soon became migrants as well. Doña Rosa’s mother could no longer take care of them due to the serious health problems she suffered as a result of the violent earthquake that shook Mexico in September 1973. The case of Doña Rosa’s youngest son, Ricardo, is extremely interesting, because it allows us to observe one of the ways in which the transnational family is an important agent in the creation of transnational social spaces. Ricardo and his youngest sister were the last to migrate to the United States, where they arrived almost at the same time that Guadalupe, her husband, and their two children returned to live in the home town. Like the rest of the family, Ricardo began working at a very early age, helping his mother, who worked as a domestic in private homes. In addition, he began helping Doña Rosa in the

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vending activity she organized every weekend and that became a permanent and very lucrative job he continues to this day. The restaurants Restaurant work is a very important type of employment for those who migrate from Mexico to New York City.8 It would not be an exaggeration to say that in the kitchens of New York City restaurants Mexicans are increasingly becoming a majority. In contrast to the sweatshops, this field of work offers stability and opportunities for promotion. Indeed, it is noteworthy that most of the migrants who have arrived in New York as undocumented immigrants and ended up as proprietors of a variety of companies (bakeries, tortilla mills, grocery stores, or restaurants, but also manufacturing firms), began their work careers in restaurants.9 Restaurant work in New York City is clearly divided into a series of differentiated and hierarchically structured job categories, so much so that there is a type of internal job market in which it is possible to gain upward mobility by working as a cook or manager. The lowest position in restaurant work is that of a dishwasher, a point-of-entry job that can lead to a promotion to cook or manager positions. It is interesting to note that most of the male and female migrants from Mexico work in the kitchens, while an increasing number of Ecuadoreans and Colombians can be seen attending to the public. One need not take any tests or present school transcripts in order to work in the kitchen of a restaurant. Those who have progressed in this field, say that learning is done through practice and depends to a large extent on a worker’s willingness or ability to learn the tasks associated with other job categories. Thus, a dishwasher can voluntarily collaborate with the kitchen assistants, the chefs, and even with the specialists (butchers, etc.), thus acquiring the skills necessary to do his or her own job well, while at the same time acquiring skills that are likely to lead to a promotion. The work day in a restaurant is very long. Most days begin at approximately 11 am or 12 noon and last until 2 or 3 am the following day. Alternatively, work can begin at 4 or 5 am and finish at 6 or 7 pm. Nevertheless, it is common for those who work in restaurants to cover more than one shift, either by prolonging their work hours in the same establishment or by working part-time in another restaurant. In the kitchen milieu, social networks are the key to obtaining employment. The recommendation by an accredited chef of a relative or paisano is the greatest capital that any recently arrived migrant in New York City can have. On the other hand, the newly arrived migrant is required, implicitly or explicitly, not to make the one who recommended him or her look bad. This person becomes his or her mentor, backer, teacher, and authority figure. Careers in the restaurant business tend to follow two non-exclusive paths: one is via promotion within a single establishment, or within restaurants belonging to the same chain, the second involves frequently changing employers and moving upward by

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improving one’s job skills and understanding of the restaurant business. This second path is what allowed Antonio to build a successful life in New York City. The “routers” As Ricardo grew up he was determined to follow in the footsteps of his older brother, for whom he later became a right-hand man. Initially he helped his brother with the organization of dances and the management of a restaurant, but he soon noticed a potential business opportunity that would allow him to start his own business. First of all he noticed that many Mexicans had begun to launch small tortilla companies. Secondly, he noticed the geographical dispersion of the Mexican community in New York City and its surroundings (mainly New Jersey). Far from being located in a single and defined area (like other groups of immigrants in the past), Mexicans have settled in disparate areas of the Bronx, Brooklyn, Queens, Staten Island, Manhattan, and Yonkers, in New York City, and in the parts of New Jersey nearest to New York, such as Passaic. (Many Mexican migrants say that the reason for this is that they sought housing in those areas where Spanish-speaking populations, mainly Puerto Ricans and Dominicans, had already settled.) Lastly, Ricardo recognized that Mexican migrants’ work schedules, and the long distances between their homes and workplaces, hindered their ability to obtain Mexican products.10 Based on his observations, Ricardo decided to sell Mexican food products door-to-door. This service helped the migrants feel somewhat less far away from home. Ricardo’s network of contacts initially comprised only family members and close friends, but it grew rapidly by word of mouth, and when Ricardo sold his sales route in 1996 it had become so successful that the profits allowed him to launch his own business in the Yonkers area, not far from the businesses of other family members. Ricardo’s story can be more fully understood if we briefly consider the characteristics of the work performed by ruteros. Door-to-door delivery routes are an important field of work for Mexican migrants in New York City. Although in general terms delivery routes are often merely sources of supplementary income, good ruteros can earn a relatively high income if they are willing to invest considerable time, hard work and effort. One of the most interesting things that emerges when analysing such work is that the sales routes do not exist independently of the people who engage in this field of work. They are a product of the rutero’s initiative and hard work, together with his or her personal contacts and those of his or her family. The sales route operator must also know where the paisanos live and have knowledge of their preferences, consumption needs, and work schedules. A rutero must also have data on local producers and suppliers who sell and introduce Mexican food products in New York City. Once established, and after operating for a time, sales routes take on a sort of autonomous existence, but they remain unbounded by legal regulations. Nonetheless, sales routes are always dependent upon personal contacts and word

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of mouth, and these are also the means by which one rutero tends to sell his sales routes to another. The way in which a sales route is operated is relatively simple, and although the work can be exhausting, establishing a sales route does not require a large initial investment, nor credentials or specialized training periods and processes. But a rutero must have a car, a driver’s licence, and a knowledge of the cities where he or she works. The rutero must also be self-motivated, self-disciplined and willing to work within the limits that the habits and customs of clients impose on him or her. Last but not least, the rutero must have his own list of Mexican residents, their addresses, and their work days and schedules. The long-term success of a sales route is the result of a lot of hard work and the supposition that the paisanos will keep on eating tortillas and will continue to work the long hours which will make it hard for them to go to stores to buy Mexican food products. However, changes in consumption patterns and demographics threaten to make ruteros and their sales routes unnecessary. The growing presence of Mexicans in New York, the success of some of the community’s businessmen, and the growth of Mexican food consumption in other sectors of New York’s population has led to a sort of institutionalization of traditional Mexican food products. The proliferation of tortilla mills and the spread of Mexican products throughout New York City is a growing reality, as has been documented in local television programmes.11 As can be seen in some of the film clips we made, a growing number of producers’ own transport vehicles, especially those of tortilla producers, can be seen on the streets of New York. Thus, we may be witnessing the beginning of a shift from an independent to a dependent and salaried type of activity that could become an important source of stable employment for the Mexican community in New York City. Final remarks: the structuring force of transnational families Although this description of some of the important characteristics of this transnational family could give rise to many comments, we will only make a few. Based on what has been observed so far, it is possible to say that the forces that hold the Rosa family together are stronger than the forces, both legal and physical, that separate Mexico from the United States. In the Rosa family, two places are brought together in one social space by the presence in both of very close family members who are tied to one another both emotionally and financially. In order to maintain these personal and financial ties, the Rosa family stays in contact by using moderns means of communication (telephones, money transfers, live video broadcasts, etc.), but also by means of physical movement between Mexico and the USA. Both the centres in which a part of the Rosa family lives—one in New York City, the other in the Mixteca/Mexico—are united by the certainty that the customs, habits, and preferences that the family has developed over the years can be acted upon in both the USA and Mexico without major obstacles. But we are not dealing with a mere reproduction in the United States of lifestyles that

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originate in Mexico, nor with a reproduction of the US way of life in Mexico. Rather, a creative mixture of elements defines and acts upon the Rosa family. These cultural elements could be traced to one of the two cultures in which the members of the Rosa family have lived, but the family members nonetheless exhibit a consciousness that is clearly marked by transnational and multicultural experiences. The family’s home village in Mexico has been a source of values and traditions, but the village has in turn also been significantly altered by the constant coming and going of its inhabitants to and from the United States. An ambiguous and ‘hybrid’ culture and social space has emerged out of the social practices, symbol systems and artifacts that span the lived places in the two countries—we call this transnational social space. For example, Aurora, an ex-migrant now living in her home village in the Mixteca, has a daughter, a son-in-law (also a migrant), two grandsons (both born in the United States), a mother, half-brothers and -sisters, and nephews, all of whom live in New York City. She also maintains papers that give her legal residency in the United States and allow her to visit her relatives at least every two years. In addition, New York continues to be the place where she plans to invest the savings that she collected during her time spent as a migrant worker. The youngest generation of the Rosa family (except for the small children) also maintains its presence in a transnational space. For example, Guadalupe’s daughter, born in New York City, is a US citizen, has spent most of her life as a student (first in her home village in Mexico, then as an internal migrant in the city of Puebla, where she almost concluded her university studies), and is married to a young migrant. For her, New York City has always been present in the homes, businesses, and social networks of her relatives. Guadalupe has also spent time in New York City during vacations in order to work in her mother’s store or in the restaurant that her mother and uncle own. The experiences of the Rosa family also exhibit several characteristics that strengthen our understanding of the trans-generational existence of transnational social spaces. For the members of a transnational family, belonging to two different national societies does not present a major problem. Although many members of the Rosa family have either acquired residency or citizenship in the United States, they continue to affirm their Mexican nationality and continue to identify with their home town. The importance of the family’s networks in structuring the job histories of individual family members is impressive—though it should be noted that each family member creatively combined the resources offered by various sectors of the US and Mexican job markets in order to establish an independent career path. Antonio, for example, started off working completely within the family network in Mexico, but very soon began to venture into jobs in which he had to rely on his own strengths and abilities. However, his decision to migrate to the USA was clearly determined by the opportunity that his sister and brother-in-law offered him. By acquiring work experience, Antonio has been able to establish a successful career in the restaurant business. But as an entertainment manager he was not especially successful, even though he took advantage of his social

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networks, his prestige as a cook and his charming personality. Nevertheless, Antonio made efforts to establish himself as an entertainment manager without cutting off ties with the family network. Antonio has continued to help his youngest brother to establish a career in the restaurant business and helps his sister in her restaurant. Antonio also employs family members in his businesses, and organizes vacations in Mexico together with his mother and other members of the family. Thus, it can be seen that the transnational family is buffered by its extensive social networks, allowing the transnational experiences to form a fluid continuum, rather than a radical divide compartmentalizing life into two separated worlds. The Rosa family could be seen as an extensive network of close social relations, undivided by the aspirations of individual family members. It is also a continuum that exists on both sides of the US-Mexican border, despite geographical distances and international laws established by two sovereign and independent states—and, in both professional and personal terms, it can exist on both sides of that border at the same time. The Rosa family is thus able to maintain a sense of multiple and multi-localized belonging. But it should also be noted that the mere existence of a transnational family is not in and of itself the sum total of its importance. On the contrary, in the existence and survival of a transnational social space, the transnational family plays a role that transcends its formal bounds. In a very general sense, a transnational family’s mere presence serves as an example of what can be achieved through migration. It also plays an important role in the creation of jobs and acts as a reliable conduit for the distribution of people, goods, and information about jobs, housing, transportation, dangers, and opportunities. On a more symbolic level, the transnational family is also a vehicle for the circulation and fusion of customs, practices, habits, forms of consumption, and expectations. Transnational families are therefore vehicles—better yet, agents—for both material exchanges and the creation, re-creation, and transformation of cultures. Such families are thus also important elements in the creation and survival of transnational social spaces. Notes 1

2 3

This chapter is the preliminary result of the investigation coordinated by Ludger Pries, in which, besides the author, Saúl Macías also participated as researcher and María Luisa Cortés as assistant researcher. The project was sponsored by the Mexican National Council on Science and Technology (CONACYT) and the Autonomous Metropolitan University, Mexico City. The research design and some preliminary results can be found in Macías and Herrera 1997. Previous research—by López and Cederström 1990; Cederström 1993; Cortés 1995a, 1995b and 1996; Preibisch, 1996; Valdéz 1994 and 1996; and Smith 1994 and 1995—was very stimulating for us and broadly coincided with our findings. We wish to thank Jennifer Hickes for critical reading and editorial review. For details of the research design see Macías and Herrera 1997, and Pries 2000b. It should be noted that the decision as to who in the family should and should not migrate takes place via diverse internal mechanisms: some more consensual, others

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more authoritarian and traditional; some more equitable, others more vertical; some more sexist than others. All the names are, of course, fictitious, although in at least two of the cases we were explicitly authorized to use the real names of the persons involved. In one of them, which will be specifically dealt with separately, we were advised to refer to them by their real first names, last names, and nicknames. Robert Smith has already commented on these aspects (1994 and 1995). The information in this section comes from the preliminary results of the data obtained through the questionnaires and interviews, but also from direct observations (we went to many of these factories to apply for work), and through the kind collaboration of Bertha Williams, of the Justice Center of the UNITE union of Manhattan. In some cases, the foreman is employed solely for the purpose of hiring new workers, and is often of the same nationality as most of the workers. Of key importance for information on restaurants, were discussions with friends, both employees and owners, who generously told us of their experiences, allowed us to directly observe their work, and, when applicable, presented us to their employers, who amplified the information. Although these successful migrants have generally combined different jobs with restaurant work over the years, the latter has been the most constant form of employment. Due to the work hours and the reliability of restaurant work, other work-related activities are organized around it. This was aggravated by the fact that, until very recently, Mexican products had to be shipped from California to Chicago, and then on to New York City. This situation has changed only very recently, when Mexicans, Puerto Ricans, and Colombians began to introduce and sell Mexican food products in New York City. We have video tapes of such television segments, which were made available to us by a proud Mexican businessman (now a naturalized US citizen) who was interviewed in them.

Bibliography Cederström, Thoric Nils, 1993: “The impacts of migrant remittances on the peasant economy of four communities of the Mixteca Baja region of Puebla, Mexico”. Ph.D. thesis, University of Arizona Cortés Sanchez, Sergio, 1995a: “La Mixteca, tierra de emigrados”. In: Perfil de Jornada de Oriente, 8 March 1995, p. 13 ——, 1995b: “Los migrantes de la Mixteca poblana”. In: La Jornada de Oriente, 29 November 1995, pp. 14–15 ——, 1996: “El retorno de los chinantlecos.” In: La jornada de Oriente, 31 January 1996, p. 11 Faist, Thomas, 1995: “A preliminary analysis of political-institutional aspects of international migration: internationalization, transnationalization, and internal globalization” (mimeo). Paper presented at the meeting of the working group “Theories of Migration and Development”, Biskops Arnö, April 20–23 Glick Schiller, Nina, Linda Basch and Cristina Blanc-Szanton (eds), 1992: Towards a transnational perspective on migration: Race, class, ethnicity, and nationalism reconsidered. New York: New York Academy of Sciences Goldring, Luin, 1996: “Blurring borders: constructing transnational community in the process of Mexico-US Migration”. In: Research in Community Sociology, JAI Press, vol. VI, pp. 69–104 Grenn, Nancy L., 1997: “Sweatshop migrations: the garment industry between home

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and shop”. In: David Ward and Olivier Zunz (eds), The Landscape of Modernity: New York City, 1900–1940. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, pp. 213–232 Leichter, Franz, Glenn F.von Nostiz and María González, 1981: “The return of the sweatshop”. In: New York Times, 26 February López Ángel, Gustavoa and Thoric Nils Cederström, 1990: “Moradores en el purgatorio: el regreso periódico de los migrantes como una forma de peregrinación”. In: INAH/CNCA, Memoria del Simposio International de Investigaciones Regionales. Izúcar de Matamoros, Mexico, pp. 112–118 Macías G., Saúl, and Fernando Herrera L. (eds), 1997: Migration laboral international: transnacionalidad del espacio social. Mexico: BUAP Massey, Douglas, Luin Goldring and Jorge Durand, 1994: “Continuities in transnational migration: An analysis of nineteen Mexican communities”. In: American Journal of Sociology, vol. 99, no. 6, pp. 1492–1533 Preibisch, Kerry Lynne, 1996: “Neoliberalismo y migración en el campo mexicano: Bosquejo de dos comunidades poblanas”. In: Economía International, no. 52, pp. 73–79 Pries, Ludger, 2000a: “Una nueva cara de la migración globalizada: El surgimiento de nuevos espacios sociales transnacionales y plurilocales”. In: Trabajo, no. 3 (nueva época), pp. 51–77 ——, 2000b: “The disruption of social and geographic space, US-Mexican migration and the emergence of transnational social spaces”. In: International Sociology no. 4 (forthcoming) Ross, Robert, and Kent Trachte, 1982: “Global Cities and Global Classes” (mimeo) Rouse, Roger, 1991: “Mexican migration and the social space of postmodernism”. Diaspora, vol. 1, no. 1, pp. 8–24 Sassen, Saskia, 1991: The Global City. Princeton: Princeton University Press Smith, Robert, 1994: “‘Los ausentes siempre presentes’: The imagining, making and politics of a transnational community between Ticuani, Puebla, Mexico, and New York City”. Submitted in partial fulfillment of the requirements of the degree of Doctor of Philosophy in the Graduate School of Arts and Sciences. New York: Columbia University ——, 1995: “Transnational localities: Community, technology and the politics of membership within the context of Mexico-US migration” (mimeo). Paper prepared for the American Sociological Association Meetings, Washington DC, August 1995 (In preparation for submission to American Sociological Review) Valdéz, Luz María, 1994: “Migración laboral de mexicanos a Nueva York”. In: Institute Matías Romero de Estudios Diplomáticos, La migration laboral mexicana a Estados Unidos: Una perspectiva desde México. Mexico: SRE, pp. 207–213 ——, 1996: “La gran Manhatitlán”. In: Nexos, no. 7, pp. 34–42

5 Shifting spaces Complex identities in Turkish-German migration Jeffrey Jurgens

Introduction Theories of transnational migration were initially formulated in reference to migration processes in the US, Latin America and the Caribbean. In this chapter, however, I mean to consider them in the case of Turkish migration to Germany.1 By doing so, I hope to indicate how these theories can offer significant contributions to our understanding of migration in a different historical and institutional context. At the same time, I also want to point to some elements of the Turkish-German migration experience that may not “fit” so easily into our previous conceptions. Specifically, the border-crossing movements of people in this particular transnational space do not appear quite as fluid or frequent as they often are for, say, transmigrants in the US and Mexico. Turkish migrants2 generally do not and have not moved, in pendulum-like fashion, back and forth between work opportunities in multiple countries, as has been the case for some of their Mexican counterparts. Although “return” trips to Turkey in various forms do occur, the everyday lives of most migrants are, by now, firmly established in Germany. These circumstances have important implications for how second- and third-generation migrants in particular sustain transnational linkages with Turkey, as well as for how they articulate and enact ethnic identity. The bulk of this chapter is divided into three sections, in which I explore several nuances of Turkish-German transnational space that might prove suggestive to a broader audience. The second section is a historical and ethnographic sketch of Turkish migration that begins with the initial migrants to Germany and continues with the experiences of their second- and thirdgeneration offspring. I focus on not only the social networks that undergird this particular social space, but also the cultural ethic of reciprocity that informs them. In addition, I draw on the work of Benedict Anderson (1991) to highlight the diffuse, imagined—as opposed to particularistic and “concrete”—dimensions of migrants’ relationships to localities in Turkey and the Turkish nation-state. These imagined ties and identifications, it seems to me, are coming to play an increasingly important role in Turkish-German transnational space as the intimate, intensive involvement of second- and third-generation migrants in border-crossing kinship and acquaintance networks becomes more problematic. The greater salience of this transnational cultural imaginary, I argue, raises 94

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questions about the relative durability and potential malleability of transnational spaces. The significance of imagination, in turn, points to popular culture as an additional avenue for research. Popular cultural products become a key medium through which Turkish migrants conceive, articulate, and enact their perceived place in the world. Significantly, these resources may be of Turkish or German “provenance” (that is, they may be located in these particular national contexts and historical traditions of cultural production), but they are not necessarily so. In the third section I explore the consumption and selective re-appropriation of particular concepts (like the derogatory slur “Kanake”) and genres of performance (like hip-hop). In doing so, I mean to highlight how at least some younger Turkish migrants are turning to elements of African-American experience to make sense of their own. How and what they actively consume, however, continues to be informed by already existing cultural (especially gendered) understandings and priorities. These considerations take place within a larger critical discussion of hybridity, one of the key concepts that researchers have employed to comprehend the identities of transnational migrants. Finally, the biographies and identities of Turkish migrants are not determined strictly by their transnational social networks or their imagined relationships with Turkey and Turkishness. Migrants’ positioning in larger economic processes in Germany, as well as their varying work and school experiences within an encompassing German society also shape their lives in significant ways. This is particularly so for those second- and later-generation migrants who were born and socialized in Germany. Thanks to the different educational and formal training pathways these migrants follow into the labour market, they come to acquire different forms of cultural and social capital, which in turn structure differential access to positions of wealth and social prestige. As a result of these processes, the Turkish migrant population is fractured not only along ethnic, religious, political, and generational lines; it is also undergoing a process of internal differentiation in terms of social class and status inequalities. In the penultimate section I outline a key line of difference forming between those migrants who continue to work in less secure, un- or semi-skilled factory and service-sector jobs, on the one hand, and, on the other, a smaller group of educated, upwardly mobile professionals, academics, and small-scale entrepreneurs. I argue that these differing educational and work experiences, along with the differing forms of cultural capital that accompany them, further structure the articulation and enactment of transnational ethnic identity. From the “concrete” to the imagined The initial institutional groundwork for Turkish migration was laid by a 1961 bilateral agreement between the German and Turkish governments. According to the terms of the recruitment provisions, Turkish applicants would be screened by German bureaucrats and allocated to specific job openings in Germany with specific firms. These workers would only remain in Germany so long as they

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were needed to “plug” labour shortages in particular sectors and thereby sustain the Federal Republic’s postwar economic expansion. As the term Gastarbeiter (“guest worker”) implies, policy-makers foresaw not the long-term settlement of these labour migrants, but rather their prompt return when German economic circumstances warranted it. As it turned out, this position was entirely consistent with migrants’ own plans and priorities. The first Gastarbeiter to arrive in Germany in the early 1960s were often experienced, skilled workers from Turkish industrial centres. By the later 1960s and early 1970s, however, more and more migrants arrived from rural Anatolia and possessed fewer sought-after technical skills. They were, in Michael Kearney’s (1996) terms, “post-peasants” whose materially meagre livelihoods combined subsistence agriculture with craft manufacture, small-scale business ventures, and/or seasonal wage labour in Turkish cities. These rural migrants frequently imagined their initial migration to Germany as a “quest for social mobility” (Çaglar 1994). Wage labour in Germany, with its (by Turkish standards) uncommonly high salaries, was a chance to leave a difficult life behind and make the initial investments for a self-owned business, an office job, and/or a comfortable urban lifestyle in Turkey. As workers arrived and settled in Germany, gifts and cash remittances made their way to home villages. Carloads of appliances and furniture for the dream home were also packed and transported when migrants returned to Turkey for the “izin”, or annual summer vacation. Many of them hoped for a permanent, and triumphant, return as self-made men and women after only a few years abroad (see Çaglar 1994; Schiffauer 1991; Wolbert 1996). Migrants’ return to Turkey was thus not only a priority codified in Turkish and German government policy. It was also an orienting principle for migrants themselves: they used it to explain and justify their hard work, frugal existence, and loneliness. Several biographical and familial factors emerged, however, to prolong their stays in Germany or to promote permanent resettlement. Initially, many migrants came by themselves or only with an adult relative, so as to maximize savings while minimizing costs of living. Some also effectively withdrew from kinship networks of reciprocity and obligation that might have potentially cut into their financial resources (Schiffauer 1991, p. 177).3 As the length of their stays increased, however, many migrants reunited with their spouses and children to avoid the potential emotional distress of separation. Of course, supporting a family means higher rents and additional money spent on clothing, school supplies, and groceries; so, predictably, the costs of living rose for most of them, and they could not save as quickly for return. In addition, migrants’ demands for new homes and land actually helped to spur a Turkish property boom, which dramatically increased the costs of affluence beyond initial estimates. Finally, many migrants became reluctant to return when they realized that their ties of friendship and kinship were no longer as vital as they once had been. The bonds of reciprocity needed to muster food, money, and other resources in times of need were no longer reliable. A migrant couple explained their rationale for staying in Germany after retirement to Jenny White (1997, p.

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758) thus: “we’d like to return, but we can’t. Who would we borrow money from?” Hence, the experience of migration had placed unforeseen strains on the relationships that are one key basis of social life both in Turkey and in Germany. Hundreds of thousands of migrants did, in fact, return to Turkey. Return migration peaked at 148,000 in 1974 following the end of official Gastarbeiter recruitment, then at 213,000 in 1985 as a result of financial incentives offered by the German government (see Wolbert 1996, pp. 10–12). At the same time, other migrants came to own homes and apartments in Turkey while continuing to live in Germany for part of the year. The retired parents of the Ozgür family, for instance, spend just over six months of each year in their small, plain apartment in Völklingen (a former mining town west of Saarbrücken). The remaining six months are spent in their rural home outside Sivas and in their apartment in Ankara. The construction and purchase of both residences was financed from the father’s earnings as a miner in Germany. Their time in Turkey does not and cannot—exceed six consecutive months, however, because they would otherwise forfeit their German residence permits (and, significantly, their access to German medical care). At the same time, this arrangement also allows the Ozgür family to retain Turkish citizenship with all of the practical, political, and symbolic connotations that it entails. Indeed, to renounce Turkish citizenship would be tantamount for many migrants—especially those of the first generation - to a betrayal of the nation and of their abiding emotional ties to it. Thus, the annual cycle of their lives is markedly shaped both by the political-legal frameworks of German migration law and by Turkish citizenship policy However, while the Ozgür family may perhaps sound like an unusual case, they are actually indicative of a broader pattern: some of the most frequent border-crossers at the moment are not people in the prime of their working lives, but are rather retirees (see also Wolbert 1996, pp. 176–179).4 Nevertheless, these elder jetsetters remain in the minority of the migrant population. Many first-generation migrants and their families neither attained upward mobility in Turkey nor returned. For them the geographical core of everyday life has instead shifted to Germany, and return is limited to the “izin”. But, while for many families the summer vacation continues to be a regular and highly anticipated event (Mandel and Wilpert 1994, pp. 473–477), others travel much less frequently. This is particularly the case among some second- and thirdgeneration migrants (my account now turns to their experience in greater detail). While conducting fieldwork at a youth centre in Völklingen, for instance, I met several young men from distinctly “non-elite” families who have not been to Turkey for up to nine years5—a substantial portion of their lives, in other words. Yet their emotional connection with Turkey and Turkishness (and/or Kurdishness, and/or Aleviness—a religious minority which shares many of its tenets with Shi’ism) remains. In part, this is because the usually denigrating status of “Turk” continues to be imposed on them in myriad ways in their everyday lives. For the young men at the Völklingen youth centre, the most troubling of these impositions is the unjust, even racist treatment they feel they receive at the hands of local police. At the same time, Turkishness for them is a matter of positive

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self-identification. To expand on Anderson (1991), it is a sense of imagined belonging that emerges from reading the European editions of Turkish newspapers like Hürriyet, watching televised Fenerbahçe and Galatasaray soccer matches beamed via satellite; and listening to cassettes from singers like Tarkan and Ibrahim Tatllses. To be Turkish (and/or Kurdish and/or Alevi) is to consume Turkish print capitalism and other popular cultural products. In addition, the ethos of reciprocity, respect and obligation that informs social activity in Turkey has not wholly disappeared—it has, however, been placed “on trial” (see Daniel and Knudsen 1995). Instead of being taken-for-granted and “natural”, it has been reconstructed and renegotiated in light of the novel circumstances encountered during and after migration. In the process of this reconstruction, reciprocity has become somewhat more restricted, with emphasis now placed largely on mundane exchanges of money and commodities (see also White 1997). At the same time, a certain ironic, even playful, distance from this ethos has emerged among some second-generation migrants and their own children. The “traditional” practice of hand-kissing (“el öpmek”—a gesture of respect that younger people perform for older relatives and respected authority figures), for instance, became the material for satirical jokes and embarrassed laughter among university friends of mine in Saarbrücken and Berlin. Indeed, I would even go so far as to propose partial “gaps” in knowledge, grey zones of relative cultural “ignorance” (when seen from the perspective of first-generation migrants) among some of my younger informants. For example: Omit, a secondgeneration friend of mine in Saarbrücken, spoke very good Turkish and played the saz (a six-stringed Turkish lute) with a great degree of skill. Yet he did not understand why I once brought a small gift of food as a token of thanks, respect, and trust during a visit to his family—although his mother immediately comprehended my gesture and appreciated it. Given this picture of migration, how then is the Turkish-German case specifically transnational? Is it indeed appropriate to use this term, or are we instead looking at the formation of a diaspora, or perhaps a process of immigration and the subsequent emergence of an ethnic minority (or, better, minorities)? As I have already indicated in my introduction, theories of transnational migration have tended to emphasize the simultaneous membership of migrants in multiple localities. This multi-local belonging, in turn, has been epitomized by relatively fluid—even pendulum-like—movements of people across borders. Yet it is precisely these two paradigmatic elements, simultaneous membership and fluid movement, which seem most problematic in the Turkish-German case. Turkish migrants have probably never been as fluid in their movements as Mexican migrants in the US and Mexico. First of all, their highly regulated work relations and visa provisions in Germany did not promote flexible border crossing. If migrants returned to Turkey after several years abroad, there was no guarantee that they could arrange a second stint of work either by applying formally with German authorities or by relying on friends and kin to secure them jobs. In addition, even brief return trips were costly affairs. Apart from the expense of the trip itself, migrants were also under pressure to demonstrate—to

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themselves and others—how well they were doing in Germany and how greatly they were prospering. Relatives and friends frequently expected plentiful, expensive gifts from returnees during annual vacations. Such displays of extravagant generosity, however, were difficult to reconcile with the formerly unspoken ethic of mutual reciprocity: many migrants felt that the exchanges were no longer “two-way”, that they were instead being manipulated by opportunistic relatives. Moreover, giving on this scale was plainly counter to migrants’ larger savings and investment plans. Thus, for at least some migrants, brief return trips to Turkey lost their appeal even though the hopes and plans for a final, lasting return remained intact. Once they opted for extended or permanent residence in Germany, the geographical—and for some migrants, also the social—centre of their lives began to shift in a fundamental way. Simultaneous multi-local membership became increasingly tenuous. I would hesitate, however, to dismiss the contemporary Turkish-German context as a non-transnational space. In economic terms, Turkish-owned companies and banks, based in both Turkey and Germany, profitably ply their trades in both locales. Socially, border-crossing kinship, friendship, and marriage relations are still established and maintained, even though the number and volume of cash remittances has stagnated in the past decade. And in the political context, migrants are able to maintain legal statuses in both states that offer access to health care, property, welfare and even formal voting rights.6 Thus, significant multi-local relationships do indeed exist. A crucial conceptual point, however, lies in distinguishing them from other, perhaps less tangible linkages. I recommend that we regard a sense of transnational belonging as a necessarily multi-stranded experience. Drawing on Anderson (1991, pp. 5–7), a sense of collective belonging—whether transnational, national, or otherwise— rests at least in part on particularistic, first-hand (if not necessarily face-to-face), and intimate relationships with kin, friends, neighbours, business partners, etc. It would also seem to depend, however, on a diffuse “image of communion” (Anderson 1991, p. 6) more or less commonly imagined by its members. Like other collectivities, transnational social spaces come to a certain “balance” as far as these particularistic and more diffuse dimensions are concerned. This balance, however, need not remain stable. I would argue that the imagined character of Turkish-German social space has gradually taken on greater importance at the expense of particularistic relationships—particularly for second- and thirdgeneration Turks. It is at this point that print capitalism, music sales, and satellite television play a decisive role for migrants in knitting together a sense of multilocal belonging and identification. Indeed, these imaginative processes may even partially break out of a national framework of conceiving and articulating identity. Some of my informants, in my experience, proclaim cosmopolitan personas that invoke an enlightened European or global culture. Others, in contrast, evoke extremely localized identities. They espouse an affiliation not with Germany or Turkey, but with the city of Berlin, with a district with a substantial Turkish population (like Kreuzberg), and/or with villages and towns in Turkey (see also White 1996, p.

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25). 7 Thus, while transnational social spaces unsettle national identities presumed to be singular and mutually exclusive, they do not de-territorialize identity completely. Instead they enable localisms, regionalisms, and even cosmopolitan globalisms. In other words, transnational settings can generate numerous—though probably not historically novel—ways to re-imagine the relationship between identity and territory. In short, Turkish-German social space is shaped and sustained in a fashion which may be novel for some researchers. For the time being, however, I would argue that it is nevertheless transnational. Of course, “for the time being” is an important qualification, and it points to a key theoretical horizon: the stability and potential malleability of these multi-local spaces. Undoubtedly, high-speed transportation, global telecommunications, and states’ expanded notions of national membership promote the stability of transnational spaces; they can hardly guarantee it, however. If the “sending” country, due to assimilation pressures or other processes, does not remain a central pole for the intimate lived experiences of second- and third-generation migrants, the prospects for a durable transnational space are rather attenuated.8 Such spaces cannot be upheld on the strength of imagination alone. The potential transition from a transnational to some other (perhaps diasporic?) form of social space strikes me as a provocative avenue for further research, particularly because it may run, to an extent, against the grain of previous theorizations. Indeed, it may even represent a kind of crisis, since considerable intellectual claims have been staked in arguing for the durable character of transnational space. I suspect that Turkish-German migration may offer an illuminating instance of precisely this non-durability and/or malleability. While Turkey remains a multi-stranded, practical and imaginary point of reference for many second- and third-generation migrants, I am not as certain that the same will be said for fourth-generation migrants twenty years from now. One key factor in the future may be German political culture, which for the most part remains largely assimilationist in tone (despite the best efforts of multiculturalists). A second important factor is whether second- and later-generation migrants continue to maintain intimate social relationships with relatives and friends in Turkey, as well as the ethos of reciprocity that informs them—or whether “return”, if it occurs at all, is limited to tourism. In my experience, migrants still travel to “home” villages in Turkey, but coastal resort towns are also becoming popular destinations. Whether this shift towards tourism will continue in the future, however, remains to be seen. Will members of the second and later generations return to Turkey in order to uphold a sense of “being” Turkish and/or a member of specific local networks? Or will they return to “see” Turkey from an outsider’s vantage point? Consumption and hybridity Fair enough: Turkish migrants in Germany—like the members of other transnational settings—maintain attachments with multiple social-cultural

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contexts in multiple ways. The problem now confronting researchers is how to make theoretical sense of these practices. Various related concepts and metaphors have been suggested: syncretism, creolization, cultural melange, and so on. The notion with which I am most familiar is that of hybridity. My research suggests, however, that we should regard this concept (and others like it) with a critical eye before choosing to employ it. My concerns rest on the fact that hybridity often connotes (in both academic and popular circles) only a modest bi-culturality or multi-ethnicity. Hybridity, in these cases, merely implies a combination of forms from already established cultural traditions, rather than an emergent formation, relatively autonomous in its own right. When employed in this manner, the concept does not fully capture some of the subtleties of TurkishGerman transnational identities that deserve to be more closely delineated. In addition, it involves certain troubling assumptions about the nature of culture as a homogeneous and reified entity. This reification of culture is closely connected to the conflation of social and territorial space that is, in part, the subject of this volume. In fact, certain categories and practices have emerged among second- and third-generation migrants that cannot be located in any strict way in Germany, Turkey, or their respective national histories. In this case, I am thinking particularly of hip-hop culture (rap music, break-dancing, graffiti) and, as a more dubious example, the concept of the “Kanake”. The latter term was recently invoked and celebrated in Kanak Sprak (1995), a collection of vignettes by secondgeneration writer Feridun Zaimoglu. The book, I would argue, is but the best-known instance of a larger attempt among artists and intellectuals to “take back” a derogatory slur against Turks and to invest it with a sense of acerbic, defiant pride. The book and similar cultural productions do so not by erasing migrants’ memories of ethnic discrimination in Germany, but rather by incorporating and transforming these memories into an expression of shared resentment and suffering. As I understand Zaimoglu’s work, young Turkish men are both the main protagonists of his texts and an intended central audience. Yet my impression is that he is much better known in German progressive circles than among the young men about whom he writes. I also suspect that “Kanake” is much more Zaimoglu and other artists’ invention than a significant cultural concept among second- and third-generation migrants. In any event, none of my informants at the Völklingen youth centre ever referred to one another or themselves in this fashion. We cannot assume that the ideas of ethnic activists and intellectuals are necessarily shared by the people whom they ostensibly represent (see Werbner 1997, p. 7). Above and beyond this lesson, however, “Kanake” is interesting because it parallels in some respects how “nigger” is used among young AfricanAmericans. Indeed, I suspect that Zaimoglu, who presents himself as a Malcolm X-like figure in magazine accounts and public appearances, actually models “Kanake” on its North American predecessor. While most second- and thirdgeneration migrants do not go quite so far as Zaimoglu, however, they are quick to point out the affinity they see between themselves and African-Americans.

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Indeed, many of them have repeated to me that “the Turks are the Blacks of Germany.” The popularity of American rap music, I would suggest, rests in part on this perception of the two groups’ analogous experiences. Rap, as many migrant enthusiasts have argued, offers an empowering musical vocabulary. Like their African-American counterparts, Turkish young people can use it to express a sense of indignation at social-economic inequality and ethnicracial discrimination.9 Yet, while I would not deny that many young migrants make sense of and appreciate hip-hop on these grounds, I would also argue that it is not the whole story. My informants at the Völklingen youth centre, for instance, did not discuss and conceive of hip-hop as a form of opposition although many were avid break-dancers and rap listeners, and a group of them even wrote and shot their own gangster film. Rather, hip-hop illustrated, and served as a vehicle for, rather less admirable fantasies about violence, extravagant consumption, and savvy sexual assertion and prowess.10 In particular, it was the bodily gestures, postures, and attire of rap artists (my informants favoured “Wu Tang Klan” sweatshirts) that “spoke” most powerfully to them. The lyrics, often in English and largely incomprehensible, were of little consequence. Thus, I would suggest that we should consider hip-hop not only as a language of potential, partial resistance, but also as a specific set of gendered practices. My informants, at least, seemed to perceive in rap music and videos a model of aggressive masculine self-presentation. Furthermore, I suspect that this model was attractive to them because it aligned in important ways with a characteristically Turkish understanding of manhood. Both cultural worlds tend to place a premium on men’s ability to assert their presence in a compelling way and to promptly answer challenges to their physical and moral integrity.11 The popularity of hip-hop among second- and third-generation migrants is thus not to be explained merely through a generalized globalization of youth culture. Rap carries a particular set of gender meanings for Turkish migrants (especially men) that is consistent with other dimensions of their gendered socialization. Of course, not all migrants are so enamoured with hip-hop. One informant of mine in Berlin, in fact, saw rap as a symptom of cultural malaise. Güray lamented the derivative “Americanization of Turks” that he perceived in Turkish Berlin’s active rap and hip-hop scene. In his view, it merely mimicked American hip-hop without being creative in its own right. Instead, he desired a musical language that would be “more our own”—that is, more loyal to and reliant on Turkish culture as he understood it. Güray’s comments thus point out that hybrid practices need not be wholly embraced, even by migrants in transnational spaces; such practices can also generate new anxieties and demands for cultural maintenance. I would insist, though, that these concerns for authenticity only respond to, and make sense within, the context of Turkish-German transnational space. They do not merely reiterate an understanding of Turkish identity bound to Turkish territory.12 Migrants thus have an elaborate palette of categories and practices to “lay claim to” when reflecting on their identities and leading their everyday lives. I

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introduce this notion of “claiming” identity quite deliberately here. In part, I do so because it matches my ethnographic experience. Many second-generation immigrants—and particularly, but not only, educated activists and intellectuals spend a good deal of time making claims about their identity and positioning in relation to Germany and Turkey. Yet I also emphasize “claiming” because I would like to briefly explore the assumptions that underlie it. In order to claim an identity, one must have particular assumptions about how collectivities should be defined and how one belongs to them. Many of these assumptions, I would argue, revolve around a reifying conception of culture. During my fieldwork, I was often struck by how articulate many of my informants were about their social position: they were comfortable and indeed fluent in a quasi-sociological discourse of integration, culture, and identity. It was, as Sharon Macdonald (1993, pp. 19–20) notes, an almost uncanny experience to observe how closely the terms used by my informants approximated my own. Such instances provide ample evidence that a discourse of culture has “escaped” an exclusively academic domain and now informs broader public debates. Migrants’ fluency with these notions of identity and culture, however, should not imply that they mean exactly the same thing by them as I do. In particular, many of my informants discussed “the German” and “the Turkish” cultures as if they were bounded and homogeneous entities. They treated culture as if it was a concrete thing, and they mapped it onto particular, seemingly unambiguous territories and groups of people. In addition, this reification of culture was more striking among those highly educated informants who were self-consciously hybrid than among those who affiliated more strongly with being Turkish (see the following section). They asserted their hybridity, in effect, over and against reified national cultures contained within a specific territory. Their ability to lay claim to particular identities rested in their capacity not only to possess the attributes of a particular culture, but also to draw on and actively construct hybrid life-worlds. They only rarely acknowledged that the sets of practices and symbols from which they drew were also historically constructed, and that they were also the result of processes that did not necessarily fit into tight national containers. I do not mean to suggest that Turkish migrants are the only ones who operate with this essentializing notion of culture. The same assumptions are prevalent in German commonsense knowledge and popular culture as a whole, and ironically they play a central role in recent anti-immigrant rhetoric (see Balibar and Wallerstein 1991). Some, especially self-consciously hybrid migrants are noteworthy, however, because they manage to reconcile a notion of homogeneous, spatially bounded culture with a concept of hybridity. They bring the two sets of ideas together—and as an empirical phenomenon, this is important to keep in mind. In analytical terms, however, I contend that it would be more productive to pull the two strands apart. As researchers, we need to recognize that all cultures and social spaces are constantly remade in light of changing historical circumstances and as novel practices, objects, and symbols are incorporated that all of them are, in a sense, hybrid. Unless scholars regard their

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own and others’ claims of hybridity critically, they can unwittingly reinforce the very notions of culture and social space they seek to move beyond. Given my concerns, how then might hybridity still be useful as a concept? First of all, I would argue that it remains appropriate only insofar as it does not imply the non-processual reification of cultures. Secondly, it is cogent only if we recognize multiple hybridities, not a singular form, and if we do not treat these forms as wholly alike and interchangeable. Pnina Werbner (1997, pp. 7–8) offers a suggestive argument in this regard by distinguishing between non-reflective, “organic” hybridity and self-conscious, “intentional” hybridity. Organic hybridity refers to the pragmatic changes in, and incorporation of, economic strategies, material objects, and cultural practices within and between social spaces. In other words, it refers to the constantly occurring processes of cultural change that do not radically disrupt a sense of ongoing order and continuity. As a result, it is a kind of change that actors may not perceive as, or call, hybridity. They are rather bricoleurs “making do” with available cultural resources (LeviStrauss 1966, pp. 16–22). Intentional hybridity, on the other hand, builds upon non-reflective change, self-consciously highlights the juxtaposition of cultural forms, and makes their differences explicit. Above all, though, describing a particular way of living and acting as “hybrid” can only be the first analytical step. We must then specify when, from what sources, and how migrants appropriate and transform cultural forms. In other words, hybridity must be understood as a process and in historical terms. Finally, we must seek to understand how migrants themselves understand these transformations. In particular, we should be duly cautious about using a concept like hybridity when migrants do not make sense of their lives in these terms.

Tracing social class and (hybrid) ethnicity When and for whom, then, are these different modes of hybridity applicable? Who tends to articulate their self-understanding in a language of hybridity and who does not? As a partial, exploratory answer to these questions, I would suggest that—at least in the Turkish-German case—differing social class experiences play a key role in how transnational ethnic identities/hybridities are expressed. In making this argument, I build upon three guiding assumptions. First, migration represents not only movement through space, but also movement through and across different social class/status structures in different national labour markets. Second, social-economic mobility represents a personal and familial trajectory within and across generations. Finally, this trajectory can be traced according to the different ways that individuals participate in occupational, familial, and school relationships (see Giroux 1983). So, for example, a first-generation husband and wife might begin their migration as “post-peasants” with an elementary education in an Anatolian village knit together by dense webs of kinship relations. They then rely on a German recruitment office and contacts with other migrant relatives to settle in a

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larger German city, perform unskilled factory labour, and later retire after return has proved infeasible. Their second-generation offspring, meanwhile, attend German schools up to the tenth grade and, under pressure from their parents to learn a practical trade, complete a two-year apprenticeship programme. Based upon their occupational training, they enter the labour market as qualified car mechanics, dental assistants, hair stylists, etc. For their own children, however, they set higher goals and encourage the third generation to attend a universitytrack high school, study at a university, and begin a more prestigious career as a professional (say, an accountant) or a manager at a larger company. This hypothetical trajectory is characteristic in that the personal and familial aspirations for upward mobility remain intact, even while the main stage for these dreams has shifted from Turkey to Germany. In other respects, however, it is rather optimistic. A combination of circumstances—but particularly a lack of social contacts that might ease access to educational and training opportunities works against such steady intergenerational mobility. Many second-generation migrants remain, like their first-generation parents, in relatively insecure factory and service-sector employment. In addition, members of the second and third generations are dramatically underrepresented in university-track high schools and in multi-year occupational training programmes. This leaves a self-owned business as a highly attractive and sought-after path to upward mobility for younger migrants.13 Even those who manage to accumulate starting capital, however, are frequently unsuccessful in establishing themselves as entrepreneurs. Competition, both within the ethnic enclave economy and the broader market, is stiff. Would-be entrepreneurs lack relevant business knowledge, contacts, and practical experience. The rate of Turkish-owned small-business failure is high.14 These unfavourable prospects cannot be fully comprehended, however, unless we consider them in relation to a larger set of structural constraints. Beginning in the late 1970s, the West German economy—as in the US somewhat earlier underwent a shift from a mass-production-centred regime to a more “flexible”, service-oriented one (see Harvey 1989). This restructuring also entailed a shift in the German occupational structure and the nature of available work (Rouse 1995a; Sassen 1994). The number of secure, well-paid industrial jobs stagnated or decreased. This was particularly the case in the mining and steel industries, in which significant numbers of Turkish migrants were employed. Many were thus limited to less secure, lower-paying, and increasingly service-oriented employment. Most continue to find themselves in the lower reaches of the German occupational structure, though a smaller proportion of Turks (particularly in the second generation) have moved into the ranks of educated professionals, managers, and small-scale entrepreneurs. But what is it about these work, school, and family experiences that influences the articulation of transnational ethnic identity? The key lies, I would argue, in the varying practical habits and attitudes fostered in all of these contexts. Different orientations to work, ways of speaking, and modes of embodied interaction with others are deemed culturally appropriate for people who participate at different locations in a class and status structure. In addition,

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schools and employers attach different values to different class-inflected cultural repertoires and award different and unequal kinds of academic or occupational credentials (that is, cultural capital—see Bourdieu 1984). A crucial additional point, though, is that in Germany these different class-based forms of habitual practice tend to be interpreted in tacit or overt ethnic terms (Ortner 1991). To state this argument another way: “Integration” (in the sense that it is commonly used in Germany) is not only a process of ethnic assimilation, but also a process of acquiring the habits and attitudes considered appropriate for a normatively “middle-class” lifestyle. As a result, these processes of ethnic and social class formation are intertwined, and in a way that has strongly affected members of the second generation in particular. My research thus far suggests that the social experience of upward mobility implies closeness to, and facility with, institutions and ways of living defined as particularly German.15 In particular, academic or occupational credentials constitute a publicly recognized acknowledgement that migrants have successfully internalized “German” habits and attitudes. Those individuals in industrial and service jobs, on the other hand, usually lack this tacit and explicit recognition. They often subjectively define their experiences by a measure of alienation from “German” institutions and models of living—even though they are by no means linguistically and culturally incompetent in everyday interactions with Germans and migrants from other countries. As a result, I would argue that educated, upwardly mobile migrants are more likely to draw on an intellectualized discourse of culture and to express multiethnic (that is, both German and Turkish) or hybrid forms of identity in a selfconscious way. In Werbner’s terms, they more readily express an intentional form of hybridity. Migrants in less secure and less prestigious positions, meanwhile, tend to be more strongly bound to Turkey, and they often seem to redraw the moral lines that separate them from Germanness (see also White 1996 and 1997). Muslim “fundamentalism”—which has a certain “centre of gravity” among rural peasant and urban “working-class” Turks in both Germany and Turkey—is one, but only one, form that this reassertion of boundaries may take. The activities of explicitly Turkish youth gangs, recently described by Hermann Tertilt (1996), may be another. A reassertion of Turkishness, however, should not imply that Turkish ethnic identity in Germany is identical to its counterpart in Turkey. Rather, the experiences of migration and wage labour have led to changes in the enactment not only of reciprocity (as already outlined), but also of ethical propriety and familial honour. Women’s moral/sexual purity, for instance, is no longer defined (generally speaking) by their avoidance of public social interaction in mixed male and female company; it is now more narrowly understood in terms of pre-marital chastity and marital fidelity. As a result, the practices and meanings of Turkishness itself are in a process of redefinition in this transnational context. Yet, in my experience, when compelled to put a name to their experiences, migrants in these “non-elite” positions do not usually conceive of these changes as the hybrid fusion of disparate elements. In other words, a discourse of

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self-conscious hybridity appears less readily available, useful, and/or desirable for them. Instead, I would suggest that an “organic” form of hybridity, a pragmatic “making do” with the cultural resources at hand, better accounts for their experiences and the sense that they make of them. 16

Conclusion Recent theories of transnationalism have emphasized several important facets of today’s border-crossing, multi-local migration contexts. These include the social networks that compose these social settings; the technological infrastructure of telecommunications and high-speed transportation that promote their emergence; the legal-institutional frameworks that both enable and constrain them; and the cultural-political opportunities and challenges that they present to nation-states. These theories, as part of a larger master-concept of globalization, compellingly point to the loosened (if not entirely dissolved) connections between social space and geographical territory that we regularly confront in the contemporary world. Transnational life-worlds and forms of subjectivity, however, remain a more or less tacit and secondary concern in these theories. In this chapter, I have attempted to bring such questions of identity to the fore by complicating the notions of “multiple linkage” and “social network”. I attend not only to the webs of social relationships in Turkish-German migration (which are undoubtedly important), but also to the cultural ethos of reciprocity that informs them. I distinguish between particularistic, “concrete” ties with specific sets of kin and acquaintances and more diffuse, imagined relationships with localities, nationstates, and other spaces (both geographic and social). I highlight the importance of popular cultural consumption in imagining identity, and I emphasize how appropriations of concepts and practices necessarily take place within existing frameworks of historical experience and gendered understanding. Finally, I propose multiple modes of hybridity and attempt to relate these to processes of social class mobility and reproduction. All of these arguments, I hope, highlight the dynamism, complexity and internal differentiation of Turkish-German transnational space. We cannot do justice to this social context only by noting its multi-local character over and against the nation-states in which it is situated. It is ultimately impossible to talk about “the Turkish-German transmigrant” as a homogeneous ideal type—as if the actors in this space were all alike in their difference from subjects whose identities are based, more or less exclusively, in either German or Turkish national territory. We instead need to consider “Turkish-German transmigrants” in the plural. Finally, Turkish migration to Germany points to the possibility that transnational spaces, even in an era of high-speed transportation and telecommunication, are not inevitably durable social contexts. They are potentially malleable, even fragile frames for social action.

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Notes 1 Most of the ethnographic material upon which this chapter is based comes from more than a year (June 1997–July 1998) of research in Saarbrücken and Berlin. I supplement it in a few instances with information on more recent political developments and with details from my ongoing fieldwork. Many of my observations are meant to be applicable to migrants from Turkey regardless of gender, but I point out those moments in the text when I refer specifically to the gendered practices of young men. 2 I use “Turkish migrants” as a shorthand form not only for Turks, but also for Kurds and other ethnic/religious groups resident in Turkey (Georgians, Alevis, the Laz, to name but a few) only to avoid repetition, not to suggest that Turkey is (or should be) an ethnically homogeneous nation-state. 3 Werner Schiffauer (1987 and 1991) and Jenny White (1994 and 1997) have offered the most thorough explorations of village, friendship, and kinship relationships. These relations are structured hierarchically along lines of age, gender, reputation, and perceived moral integrity (“honour”). They are also enacted and affirmed through reciprocal exchanges of food, labour, money, objects, and gestures of respect, moral commitment, and obedience. Since most of these exchanges were carried out “face-to-face” in Turkey, migrants were able to remove themselves to a certain extent from them—though friendship and kinship were also reaffirmed periodically through cash remittances, gift-giving during visits, and arranged marriages. While some of these withdrawals from reciprocity and moral obligation were temporary, however, others were more permanent. The father of one of my female informants in Istanbul, for instance, used his migration to Germany as an opportunity to break his ties with her mother, her sisters, and herself (without obtaining a legal divorce) and to marry a German woman. 4 Of course, this is hardly a novel point. Other researchers have already pointed out that transmigrants negotiate not only multiple nations, but also multiple sets of state regulation and policy. The new wrinkle here is that migrants like the Ozgür family do so in ways which relevant state officials probably did not initially foresee. I doubt, for example, that German policy-makers expected that elderly migrants would consciously plan to stretch their time to the legal limit in Turkey while still retaining permanent residency status in Germany. 5 Incidentally, comparable lengths of absence can also be found among recent and former refugees. The majority of these are Kurds who have fled the ongoing civil war between the Kurdistan Workers’ Party (PKK) and the Turkish military. Others, however, are leftists (that is, socialists and communists of one stripe or another) and social democrats who arrived in Germany during and after the 1980 military coup. Based upon my conversations with several migrants who initially arrived as refugees, many of them expect that they and/or their families would face police harassment or worse if they attempted to return to Turkey. This group of migrants, whose encounters with German and Turkish institutions may be rather different from those of other “guest workers” and their dependants, represent a significant portion of Germany’s current Turkish population. Until now, however, they and their migration experiences have received relatively little scholarly attention. Given the emphasis that labour migration has received in theories of transnational migration, how might these same theories now be applied to refugee populations? Is it appropriate to consider refugees as participants in a transnational space, given their often problematic, even trauma-ridden relationship with the Turkish (and German) state? Is it possible to live in a transnational setting without being able, in effect, to “return home”? To stake an initial position, I suspect that a concept of transnationalism may indeed be relevant to the lives of these migrants—and particularly when we consider political activism. Kurdish-language, nationalist

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television broadcasts based in Europe, as well as the high-profile protests following PKK leader Abdullah Öcalan’s arrest in February 1999, both point to the capacity of migrants from Turkey, many of them refugees, to coordinate multi-local political opposition on a scale that the Turkish government takes seriously. Given the consistent calls from Europe for either an independent Kurdish homeland or Kurdish cultural autonomy within the Turkish nation-state, we might consider this instance as a case of “transnationalism in the service of nationalism”. In 1995, the Turkish state adopted a “global nations” policy (see Smith 1999, pp. 190–191) which attempts to partially reincorporate migrants living abroad into the Turkish polity. Under its auspices, migrants who opt for naturalized German citizenship can also apply for the so-called “pink card” (pembe kart). This card and its associated legal status entitle the carrier to almost all rights associated with Turkish citizenship. The “pink card” status, for instance, formally allows Turkish migrants to inherit property and permits their remains to be buried in Turkey if they choose (major points of migrants’ concern), but does not offer them the right to vote and run for public office. On a more ad hoc basis, however, Turkish consulates—prior to and contemporary with the “pink card” policy—regularly allowed migrants to terminate their Turkish citizenship, become naturalized German citizens, and then reapply for Turkish passports once their German passports were in hand. Thus, several Turkish governments effectively condoned de facto dual citizenship for Turkish migrants, which German officials grudgingly tolerated because they lacked a definitive policy statement that would counteract the practice. Indeed, my impression is that many first-and second-generation migrants would prefer dual citizenship if it were to continue to be a viable option. The newly instituted (as of January 2000) citizenship policy in Germany, however, forecloses this possibility for those who have not yet obtained both citizenships, even as it also eases some of the prerequisites for naturalization (see, e.g., Berliner Zeitung 2000). The reaction among most migrants to the new law (for this and other reasons) has been less than enthusiastic. Several of my informants expressed to me their anger that Germany’s social democratic government initially proposed dual citizenship, but then did not keep its word in the face of opposition from the Christian Democrats. The possibility of localized identifications is subtly confirmed by the iconography of Turkish social and political associations. (Here I refer to non-Kurdish associations specifically. Kurdish organizations utilize another set of visual symbols.) While many of these juxtapose the Turkish and German flags in their logos or interior decorations, at least one association that I visited set a Turkish flag against the flag of Berlin. My discussions with some of its members suggest that the use of the city flag is deliberate, and that Berlin represents not only the centre of the association’s activities, but also a lived space charged with emotional significance. If one is not comfortable and “at home”, so to speak, in Germany as a whole, one might be so in Berlin. In discussing transnational durability, we may also have to make spatial distinctions (in both social and territorial terms) that are more fine-grained and localized than the particular nation-states involved. In the Turkish-German case, I would argue that Berlin—and even more specifically, a district like Kreuzberg or Neukölln—represents a much denser node of transnational linkages than Saarbrücken. It thus seems plausible that Turkish Berlin might survive as a local pole of Turkish-German transnational space even if other areas in Germany become less “viable”. For a scholarly account of hip-hop culture in the US, I recommend Rose (1994). See also Gilroy (1990) for his discussion of rap and other Black musical production in Great Britain. Unlike the film made by members of a Turkish youth gang in Frankfurt (see Tertilt 1996, pp. 141–143), my informants’ film was not a reflective representation of the conflicts of their everyday lives. Rather, it was revealing because of the elements of

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masculine fantasy it contained. The plot of the film revolves around “Jackie”, a “gangster” who is released from prison after serving a four-year sentence for selling drugs. His father was killed as a result of a prior feud with another dealer, and after his release his mother begs Jackie not to return to the drug trade. Despite his mother’s concern for his and the family’s safety, Jackie begins his lucrative business once more and is soon entangled in another feud. As tensions escalate, another gangster kidnaps Jackie’s younger brother (an innocent who has no involvement in drug commerce) and demands ransom money, which Jackie agrees to provide. His brother, however, is killed in an act of treachery at the “drop-off” point, and Jackie also dies in the ensuing gun battle. While the narrative is ultimately tragic, the film’s predominant theme is its fascinated preoccupation with guns and physical strength, Jackie’s sexual attractiveness, and the material affluence (BMW, jewellery, fashionable clothing) that drug commerce ostensibly allows. The film thus reworks several elements that appear in crime films in general, but more particularly gangster rap songs and videos. Scholarship on Turkey and the Middle East, perhaps even more often than in other area-based research, makes the assumption that gender = women. In addition, an aggressive or “macho” self-presentation has frequently been approached not in terms of gender and sexuality, but rather through the problematic concepts of “honour and shame” (see Peristiany 1965 and Gilmore 1987 for an introduction to the “honour and shame” literature). Given these intellectual constraints, sophisticated discussions of Turkish masculinity are somewhat rare in my experience, but Schiffauer (1987 and 1991) and Tertilt (1996) make an important beginning for the Turkish-German context. I am arguing in this passage on hip-hop against a strongly postmodernist position. According to this line of argument, the partial and selective re-appropriation of popular cultural products largely strips them of the cultural and historical meanings they might have possessed in their original, “indigenous” context. They thus become free-floating signifiers open to seemingly endless and unlimited interpretation. In contrast, I would suggest that it is precisely the history and varied political and gender meanings of rap that attracts younger Turkish migrants to it. They do not “uproot” rap, but appreciate it for its “rootedness” in African-American experience. According to a recent survey, fully 60 per cent (!) of Turkish youths reported that their occupational goal was to become an independent entrepreneur. Among German youths, meanwhile, the figure was about 20 per cent. Barbara John, the Berlin Senate’s “foreigner representative” (Ausländerbeauftragte), cited these survey results in a recent conference on “occupational training in Berlin’s Turkish economy” (Ausbildung in der türkischstämmigen Okonomie Berlins, 12 December 1999). It is important to note, of course, that some migrants have returned to Turkey and begun a life of greater affluence. The number of successful returnees has been proportionately small, however, and those who do return to Turkey to claim the social and economic fruits of their labours are often disparagingly regarded as “Almanci” or “Almanyalt”. In other words, they are considered both strangely “German-like” and lacking in the urbane sophistication that would be culturally consistent with their newly won material means. After an often emotionally difficult time in Germany, this lack of public acceptance—particularly from other “uppermiddle-class” Turks—adds yet another note of bitterness to migrants’ transnational experiences. I do not wish imply, however, that the upwardly mobile necessarily “feel German” in an uncomplicated way. They must still contend with how others ascribe foreignness or Turkishness to them (see White 1997, p. 754). As one of my informants, now an engineer at a large German manufacturing company, stated: “there’s hardly a day that goes by when I’m not reminded in one way or another that I’m Turkish.” When

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I asked him if he meant that he had to deal with discrimination on a regular basis, he replied: “No, but that happens too. It could just be: ‘Yusuf ? What kind of name is that?’” One caveat: religious and political differentiation within the Turkish population complicates the interplay of social class and ethnicity in ways that I have not yet discussed. In particular, minority Alevis are perceived by Germans, other Turks, and themselves as being more modern, democratic, tolerant, and progressive than the Sunni majority. They are seen to be more accepting of “German” ways of living, and they enjoy in turn a (limited) measure of social recognition and acknowledgement that other Turks and Kurds do not (see Mandel 1996, especially pp. 161–Z2). In social-class terms, Alevis are somewhat more likely than Sunnis to succeed in school, to adopt particularly “German” habits and attitudes, and to manage a path of upward mobility. (At least, I have frequently heard these generalizations. They are by no means accurate for all cases, but they do conform, broadly speaking, to my own experience.) In the end, social class mobility and reproduction cannot be adequately grasped through a simple Turk-German ethnic polarity. I have continued to speak of “Turkish migrants” in this section, however, in order to make a more fundamental point about social class and the degree of closeness to/alienation from Germanness.

Bibliography Anderson, B., 1991: Imagined Communities: Reflections on the Origin and Spread of Nationalism, revised edn. New York: Verso Balibar, E. and I.Wallerstein, 1991: Race, Nation, Class: Ambiguous identities. New York: Verso Berliner Zeitung, 2000: “1700 Mark für fünf deutsche Pässe”. In: Berliner Zeitung, 4 January, 2:21 Bourdieu, P., 1984: Distinction: A social critique of the judgement of taste. Cambridge MA: Harvard University Press Çaglar, A. S., 1994: “German Turks in Berlin: Migration and their quest for social mobility”. Unpublished Ph. D. dissertation, McGill University. Daniel, E.V. and J.Chr.Knudsen, 1995: “Introduction”. In: E.V.Daniel and, J.Chr. Knudsen (eds), Mistrusting Refugees. Berkeley: University of California Press, pp. 1–12 Gilmore, D.D. (ed.), 1987: Honor and Shame and the Unity of the Mediterranean. Washington DC: American Anthropological Association Gilroy, P., 1990: “One Nation under a Groove: The cultural politics of ‘race’ and racism in Britain”. In: D.T.Goldberg, (ed.), Anatomy of Racism, Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, pp. 263–282 Giroux, H., 1983: “Theories of reproduction and resistance in the new sociology of education”. In: Harvard Educational Review 53 (3), pp. 257–293 Harvey, D., 1989: The Condition of Postmodernist: An enquiry into the origins of cultural change. Oxford: Blackwell Kearney, M., 1996: Reconceptualizing the Peasantry: Anthropology in global perspective. Boulder: Westview Press Levi-Strauss, C., 1966: The Savage Mind. Chicago: University of Chicago Press Macdonald, S., 1993: “Identity complexes in Western Europe: Social anthropological perspectives”. In: S.Macdonald (ed.), Inside European Identities: Ethnography in Western Europe. Providence: Berg, pp. 1–27 Mandel, R., 1996: “A place of their own: Contesting spaces and defining places in Berlin’s migrant community”. In: B.D.Metcalf (ed.), Making Muslim Space in North America and Europe. Berkeley: University of California Press, pp. 147–166

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Mandel, R. and C.Wilpert, 1994: “Migration zwischen der Türkei und Deutschland: Ethnizität und kulturelle Zwischenwelten”. In: Annali di Sociologia/Soziologisches Jahrbuch 10(1–11), pp. 467–485 Ortner, S., 1991: “Reading America: Preliminary notes on class and culture”. In: R.G. Fox (ed.), Recapturing Anthropology: Working in the present. Santa Fe: School of American Research Press, pp. 163–190 Peristiany, J. (ed.), 1965: Honour and Shame: The values of Mediterranean society. London: Weidenfeld & Nicholson, Rose, T., 1994: Black Noise: Rap music and black culture in contemporary America. Hanover: Wesleyan University Press Rouse, R., 1995a: “Thinking through Transnationalism: Notes on the cultural politics of class relations in the contemporary United States”. In: Public Culture 7, pp. 353–402 ——, 1995b: “Questions of identity: Personhood and collectivity in transnational migration to the United States”. In: Critique of Anthropology 15 (4), pp. 351–380 Sassen, S., 1994: Cities in a World Economy. Thousand Oaks: Pine Forge Press Schiffauer, W., 1987: Die Bauern von Subay: Das Leben in einem türkischen Dorf. Stuttgart: Klett-Cotta ——, 1991: Die Migranten aus Subay: Türken in Deutschland—eine Ethnographic. Stuttgart: KlettCotta Smith, R., 1999: “Reflections on Migration, the State and the Construction, Durability and Newness of Transnational Life”. In: L.Pries (ed), Migration and Transnational Social Spaces. Aldershot: Ashgate, pp. 187–219 Tertilt, H., 1996: Turkish Power Boys: Ethnographic einer Jugendbande. Frankfurt/M.: Suhrkamp Werbner, P., 1997: “Introduction: Debating cultural identity”. In: P.Werbner and T.Modood (eds), Debating Cultural Hybridity: Multi-cultural identities and the politics of antiracism. London: Zed Books, pp. 1–37 White, J.B., 1994: Money Makes us Relatives: Women’s labor in urban Turkey. Austin: University of Texas Press ——, 1996: “Belonging to a Place: Turks in unified Berlin”. In: American Anthropological Association, City and Society: Annual Review of the Society for Urban Anthropology, pp. 15–28 ——, 1997:“Turks in the new Germany”. In: American Anthropologist 99 (4), pp. 754–769 Wolbert, B., 1996: Der getötete Pass: Rückkehr in die Türkei—eine ethnologische Migrationsstudie. Berlin: Akademie Zaimoglu, F., 1995: Kanak Sprak: 24 Misstöne vom Rande der Gesellschaft. Hamburg: Rotbuch

Part III

International companies and transnational social spaces

6 Pluri-local social spaces by telecooperation in international corporations? Ralf Reichwald and Kathrin Möslein

Towards telecooperation: trends in organizational innovation Problem-solving has always taken place in the context of spatial distribution and mobility, and organizations have always used special technologies and mechanisms to coordinate the division of labour. Nevertheless, we are now challenged by fundamentally new phenomena. The competitive environment of firms has changed dramatically in recent years as a result of such developments as the internationalization of corporations and societal value changes, as well as innovations in information and communication technology. Unlike the physical transportation of people and goods, information logistics changes rapidly, and the appropriate deployment of specific information and communications technology makes these changes possible. Communication systems support and partially replace transport systems, without hindering mobility. By gradually dissolving temporal and spatial constraints, technical infrastructures are revolutionizing market places and enterprises. Traditional organizational boundaries are dissolving, and new organizational forms are emerging. Classic hierarchical forms of organization that primarily optimize the production of standardized goods and services in stable markets have shown themselves increasingly unsuited to coming to terms with today’s conditions, which makes it even more difficult if not impossible to obtain secure, long-term predictions as a foundation for planning. Innovative strategies that help a company’s organization to adapt to changing conditions therefore represent one of the primary prerequisites for future competitive advantage. There are three main strategies for organizational innovation that corporations follow in order to adapt to changing internal and external conditions (Pribilla et al. 1996; Wigand et al. 1997; Reichwald et al. 2000b; Möslein 2000): •

•

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corporations. In this case networking with market partners stands for the distribution of risks among several cooperation partners. Strategies of virtualization are said to be particularly well suited for tasks that are characterized by both a high level of complexity and a correspondingly high level of market uncertainty.

All three strategies of organizational innovation need information and communication infrastructures for their realization and are able to profit from media-supported forms of distributed work. For the potential of these new organizational forms to be realized, management and cooperation processes that successfully span the distances between multiple locations are needed. Social spaces have to emerge that overcome the boundaries of time zones, locations, and corporations. Will these social spaces emerge? In globally operating corporations the dissolution of time and spatial dependence can already be observed. Management processes in these organizations already overcome traditional boundaries in many ways. In order to learn more about the possible emergence of “pluri-local social spaces” (Pries 2000), this chapter will focus on management processes within the context of globally dispersed corporations. The following three questions will be discussed successively: • How are management processes (and especially the traditional roles of top managers) affected by spatial distribution over multiple locations? • How are new information and communication media used by top managers in international corporations? • What are the consequences for the role of face-to-face communication within these media-supported cooperation environments at the top management level of globally operating firms? Telemanagement: new roles for top managers in international companies Transitions within corporations and in the marketplace affect corporate leadership and, depending on the organization’s strategy, also alter the work performed by upper-level management. While classic, hierarchical forms of organization are overwhelmingly characterized by centralized or directive leadership mechanisms, the new organizational strategies of modularization, networking, and virtualization make new demands on leadership behaviour (Kotter 1982; Kanter 1989; Reichwald and Goecke 1994; Reichwald et al. 2000a). Coaching, networking and leading in new organizational forms Coaching in modular organizations The role of the manager as coach has been moved to centre stage as a result of the increased significance of team-formation and the qualifications and motivation of

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employees as a prerequisite for the delegation of decision-making authority in the formation and leadership of (semi-) autonomous units within the context of modularization. Instead of directive leadership exercised by instructions and control, the higher qualification levels and increasing personal responsibility on the part of employees have given rise to more indirect, supportive, goal-oriented, and participative leadership concepts. One of the indirect leadership principles gaining importance is that of a common value orientation, which gives the top manager a role as the developer of corporate culture and the communicator of concepts. As in the case of coaching, this form of leadership is also linked to intensive and direct communication with a large number of individuals. Because the modularization of companies leads to increased spatial decentralization of organizational units, managers are also being increasingly required to guide employees “across spatial distances”. Networking within intertwined organizations As cooperative efforts between companies increase, the demands placed on management have altered to the extent that coordination with external cooperative partners is no longer based on work contracts and dominant/ subordinate relationships but, instead, merely on contracts limited to specific tasks and on mutual trust. Leadership of intertwined organization requires intensive communications with external—and therefore generally spatially removed—partners, in order to ensure the flow of information between internal and external partners and to plan, coordinate, and control those aspects necessary for the joint performance of the task at hand. In this context, and in the absence of direct, formal/organizational cooperative relationships, the development of personal relationships based on trust and a network of personal relationships becomes increasingly important, thus bringing the role of the manager as networker to the forefront. Beyond this, leadership within strategic networks and intertwined organizations is also strongly linked to political processes that, among other things, require high levels of negotiating skills, diplomatic abilities, and representational capabilities. Thus, the increased significance of social aspects of cooperation within network structures is linked to a great need for intense, bilateral communication with partners, often over great distances. Leadership in virtual organizations Leading virtual organizations places particular demands on managers’ ability to simultaneously act out a variety of roles, and their flexibility in taking part in short-term, task-oriented relationships. For this reason, the rapid transitions that characterize cooperative relationships within virtual organization structures demand a leadership style that combines classic leadership principles with elements of coaching, team-building, and networking in a manner that does justice to the individual situation. Apart from the great degree of flexibility and mobility it demands of leaders, coordinating the highly dynamic and ambiguous

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organizational structures brought about by visualization also requires consummate information logistics. Studying the work of top managers in three global high-tech companies How are management processes (and especially the traditional roles of top managers) affected by spatial distribution over multiple locations? Between May 1993 and April 1995 the Chair for General and Industrial Management at the Technical University, Munich, carried out a study1 that could shed some light on this question. At that time, the explicit goal of our study was to answer the following research questions: • • •

What is the working situation of upper-level managers in globally active firms today? What roles do communication technologies play in performing various tasks? What effects does the implementation of media have on the working and cooperative environments of upper-level management?

The empirical basis of these examinations is formed by case studies. By using case studies, individual situations can be analysed against the exemplary instance. While case studies are not representative (i.e. they do not permit the derivation of generally applicable assertions that are equally pertinent to every working situation in which upper-level management finds itself ), they nonetheless possess an exploratory character that justifies the development of cause-and-effect hypotheses in comparatively similar management situations, from which explanations and design recommendations may, in turn, be derived (see also Yin 1994). More than twenty years ago, Henry Mintzberg reported on five empirical case studies of upper-level management in large US corporations. His resulting work, The Nature of Managerial Work, received much attention. Expanding the work of Carlson and Stewart, Mintzberg’s study was able to show that the work situation at the topmost levels of leadership is characterized by extreme stress (see Mintzberg 1973). Critical factors include accountability to others (such as the board and stockholders), time pressure, and permanent work overload. The last raised particularly critical questions regarding the quality of decision-making—a significant risk for the long-term survival of companies. The results of Mintzberg’s case studies were confirmed for German management as well (see Beckurts and Reichwald 1984; Schreyögg and Hübl 1992). Further, the analysis of the task structure for German management provided valuable insights into communications and cooperation structures in the upper-most level of leadership (see Beckurts and Reichwald 1984). Based on this information, our new empirical examination of upper-level management was carried out between May 1993 and April 1995. The information base is formed by the results of a total of fourteen case studies.2

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The case studies concern the top management level of three globally active companies from the field of computers or telecommunications. The three companies selected, Siemens AG, Apple Computer, and Siemens Rolm Communications, have for several years been employing new communications technologies throughout their operations. In addition, they are particularly affected by the influence of global competition in the area of high technology, and adjust their actions accordingly. Two of these companies are headquartered in the US, one in Germany. All three companies have between 8,000 and 23,000 employees, distributed worldwide in various centres, with the leadership level made of top managers of different nationalities, reflecting this global level of activity. Fourteen top managers at the highest leadership level were selected for these case studies. As heads of functional or business areas, they report directly to the associated board Director or Chief Executive Officer (CEO). Table 6.1 illustrates the organizational context of the selected top managers (twelve men, two women). Reflecting the transnational character of the companies involved, their leadership includes both American and German top managers, some of whom have been working overseas for many years, and thus can no longer be classified as typically American or typically German leaders.

Media usage at top-management level of international corporations “Leadership tasks are communications tasks.” This statement summarizes the general results of the analysis of the managers’ activities. The long working days Table 6.1 Organizational context of the fourteen top managers in the case studies

Note: The managers were from three companies: Siemens AG, Munich; Siemens Rolm Communications, Santa Clara CA; and Apple, Cupertino CA.

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put in by the managers—ranging from a minimum of 8 hours to a maximum of 15—is noteworthy. The average amount of actual working time on the days studied was 9.4 hours. Travel times, work at home in the evenings and on the weekends, as well as business dinners, are not included. The time /activity structure at the top management level The results of the activity analysis from the fourteen case studies are striking. The top managers included in the study spend 90 per cent of their working time performing communications tasks, 7 per cent on paperwork. The proportion of time they spend in communications on the various available communications channels is also interesting. Nearly 70 per cent of their entire working time is spent in face-to-face communication, with the actual amount varying across the studies from a minimum of 50 per cent to a maximum of 90 per cent. This is a clear indication of the value the managers place on the social component of business communications. The significance of leadership as an interactive social process between individuals (see Heinen 1984) is expressed by this high proportion of face-to-face communication. It is also an indication of the role of leaders as architects of interpersonal relationships, both within and outside the company (networking). Asking for the average duration of each work activity and the distribution of the work activities3 during a top manager’s average working day reveals the highly fragmented activity scope. The managers included in our study completed, on average, the very high level of ninety-four working or communication activities per day, with a mean duration of less than 6 minutes for each activity. This illustrates that, while face-to-face communication takes the lion’s share of time during the working day, these personal contacts represent only 28 per cent of all performed activities. Telephone conversations and audio or video conferencing make up a further 16 per cent of activities, while more than 30 per cent involve asynchronous communication media, such as voice mail, fax, and e-mail. In the latter case, top managers use these telemedia personally to some extent, but also rely on the support of secretarial assistants. On average, conventional letters and paper mail contribute 13 per cent to the pattern of activities, while stationary work at the manager’s desk accounts for only 9 per cent of all work activity. The comparison between the time profile and the activities profile is very informative: while the new telemedia (fax, voice mail, and e-mail) account for only 7 per cent of the time during a working day, more than 35 percent of all communication activities are performed with their aid. The medium of e-mail, which was not even one of the communication options in the management area a few years ago, today already ranks in second place in terms of average activity volume, superseded only by face-to-face contacts. This makes sense, since personal communication that, due to the nature of upper-level management tasks, must stand in the forefront, insofar as social relationships determine the contents of these tasks, can be practically supported and supplemented by rapid,

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asynchronous communication media. As the following analyses show, these media are extremely well-suited to the situation in the area of management. Overall, the results permit the following summary: aside from the large percentage of time that managers spend in face-to-face communications and personal contacts, the high rate of activities shown by the activity pattern indicates short working intervals, hectic workdays, and a high degree of fragmentation of the managers’ average business day. In turn, these are indicators of a multiplicity of tasks involved, time pressure, and a high volume of consensus-building, coordination, and communication processes. Today’s situation compared to that in the 1970s Comparing the time and activity levels with the findings of Mintzberg twentyfive years ago is, in some respects, problematic, but nonetheless offers particular attractions with respect to gaining an insight into the changes in the situations of top managers operating in global organizations. This comparison can be attempted because the methodology employed in our study agrees in many areas with the methodology employed by Mintzberg, and, in some points, actually goes to a much greater depth (refer to Goecke 1997). Figure 6.1 shows a comparison of the time profiles of the results we found and those found by Mintzberg. The study results can then be easily compared after a simple recoding according to Mintzberg’s definition of activities.4

Figure 6.1 Structure of top managers’ work time in the mid–1990s and early 1970s Source: © Pribilla, Reichwald and Goecke 1996 Note: Results of twenty-eight days of observation in the mid–1990s and twenty-five days of observation by Mintzberg in the early 1970s, coded after H.Mintzberg, The Nature of Managerial Work, Englewood Cliffs: Prentice-Hall, 1973

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Personal communications “face-to-face”—a constant The differences in the proportion of average use of the telecommunication media—e-mail, fax, and voice mail—are self-explanatory, as these did not yet exist at the time of Mintzberg’s study. What is surprising is the increase in the proportion of telephone communication compared with Mintzberg’s results, and this despite the asynchronous communication media available today. However, the greatest surprise provided by this time comparison is the almost unaltered proportion of time spent in face-to-face communication. Just as was the case twenty-five years ago, managers today spend an average of more than six hours per day either in personal conversations or in meetings. Despite all forecasts about substitute options for face-to-face communication—particularly when connected to the bridging of spatial distances—this comparison impressively illustrates that, at upper management levels, face-to-face communication has only been displaced by the available telemedia to a limited extent, if at all. One fact is clear. Face-to-face-communications, personal conversations, personal meetings—these are constants in communications behaviour. Just as in the past, they continue to play a dominant role in the work of managers. Again as in the past, this result indicates that all the consequences of face-to-face communication determined in previous studies (see Beckurts and Reichwald 1984) continue to be relevant today. These consequences can be summarized as the problem of the high level of physical absenteeism that results from face-toface meetings: in other words, the unavailability of the manager for other tasks. How can the flow of information between managers and their immediate working environment (secretaries, personal assistants, internal partners) be maintained during those times when communication tasks make it necessary for the manager to be away from his or her office? The assumption seems apparent that the significant innovations that can be achieved through the use of modern telemedia are fully exploited for the work of upper-level managers. Doubling the activity level—the manager in the time trap The difference in working time leads to a quest for an explanation of the increase in the length of the working day discernible in the time comparison. The major increase has been in the area of communication via technical communications media. So-called “desk work” has slightly decreased. The reason cited by most managers for this is that there is less and less time available during the course of the working day for such things as reading reports or minutes of meetings, preparing concepts, or reading work-related literature—in other words, desk work is put off until the weekend or is done at home in the evenings. Globally active managers are caught in a time trap: time pressure, a large volume of work, quick reactions to critical situations, customer orientation, maintaining contacts and relationships, internal leadership, and external networking. Today’s managers must perform at an activity level—that is: an average of different work activities per day—that has practically doubled compared with twenty-five years ago.5

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Indications that the situation of managers is becoming increasingly stressful as a result of the general hectic level of activity, the increasing volume of work, and interruptions can also be found in the studies by Kurke and Aldrich (1983) and by Schreyögg and Hübl (1992), both of which are based on the methods developed by Mintzberg. While Mintzberg’s managers performed twenty-two activities per day, Kurke and Aldrich (1983) noted thirty-four activities some ten years later, while ten years later still Schreyögg and Hübl (1992) found an average of sixty-eight activities. Telemedia: problem solver or problem amplifier? Into this picture comes the utilization of the new communication media, particularly the asynchronous communication media (voice mail, fax, and email) that provide some support in keeping the explosive growth in activities within bearable limits. This helps to explain the current situation in comparison with the image of the manager during the 1970s. While the amount of time spent on face-to-face communication has remained relatively unchanged (although the number of face-to-face contacts has increased slightly), a great deal of the additional work and communication activity concentrated in the area of remote communication has found substitutes in new telemedia, particularly with respect to conventional communication by mail. This result was impressively confirmed by the managers themselves, when they were asked to provide reasons for the extensive use of asynchronous telecommunication contacts in their working day. The main fact that emerges from this comparison of time and activity is that managers see advantages in using the new telemedia—particularly asynchronous forms of telecommunication—because of the speed and ease with which they can contact partners, both locally and over great distances. However, it cannot be overlooked that the media themselves contribute to a general increase in the managers’ activity level, and raise expectations of immediate response, quick reactions, and quick decisions. Telemedia has proved to be a problem solver in respect of the time or activity dilemma, but it simultaneously acts to amplify problems. Only once an insight into the actual content of the task structure has been obtained can an assessment be made of the significance of this fragmentation, the extent to which the working day can be planned, the extent to which management activities are self-controlled or are driven by external circumstances - in other words, what possibilities exist for the upper-level management to develop plans, and the extent to which using telemedia makes it possible to implement time management effectively. In the context of the empirical study this group of related questions received particular attention through the employment of the so-called “episodic analysis”. This provides new perceptions concerning the relationship between manager activities and the underlying problem-solving processes, the actual contents of the tasks that are carried out by managers on a daily basis.

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Relegation of tasks and activities An observer looking over a manager’s shoulder at work merely experiences managerial tasks as a complex pattern of activities made up of individual, overlapping episodes, all closely intertwined with communication activities, the search for information, and decisions. As a general rule, these momentary activities serve to complete tasks that themselves run for a longer period of time. Even when they are momentarily not “badgering” the manager because everything is going according to plan, they must be continuously kept “under control”, monitored, and guided to a “successful outcome”, because they are the manager’s responsibility. Thus, simple observations make it very difficult to discern which activities belong to which tasks, and to relegate the activities to their underlying “projects”. This problem was methodically solved with the aid of episodic analysis (for details, see Pribilla et al 1996). Using an idea suggested by Deutschmann (1983), and with the aid of episodic analysis, we attempted to graphically assign the activities of the upper-level managers observed during workday time to their underlying tasks. The premise of the episodic concept—the possible concrete relegation of observed activities to tasks—was empirically confirmed in all fourteen case studies. Using a record of their daily activities, the participating managers assisted us in identifying the underlying tasks to which their observed activities related. Applying episodic analyses to the fourteen case studies identified more than 260 (primary) tasks. For this, the recorded tasks were discussed with the managers and then classified according to organizational work-related task characteristics (e.g. urgency, strategic significance, complexity) or their communications purpose (e.g. information, decision, influence). The results of this study were multifaceted (see Pribilla et al. 1996). This paper will mainly focus on the presentation of selected aspects that show the mobility demands as well as special leadership demands at the upper management level caused by the spatial distribution of work locations and organizational units. Mobility at upper management level: commuting between offices around the world The interviews with managers revealed the particular challenges placed on communication by leadership processes, thus pointing to new roles for upperlevel managers within modern corporate structures. One of the serious consequential effects of the globalization of cooperative and leadership structures at the upper management level is the increased necessity for top managers to be mobile. Early studies have already pointed to the intense level of travel as one of the characteristic features of the work situation of upper-level managers. This mobility results in significant problems with respect to the flow of information (e.g. difficulties in staying in touch, interruptions to the information flow) as well in as physical stress for the managers. For these reasons, the travel behaviour of the fourteen upper level managers was included in our analyses and compared with the findings of previous studies.

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The fourteen upper level managers who participated in the study spend, on average, one third of their working time on business-related trips or at other locations. Three of the managers interviewed have fully-equipped offices, with secretaries, at various locations, between which they commute on a regular basis. One manager has an office in Germany and one in California, and alternates between them every four weeks in order to be able to coordinate the activities of his transnational area. This pattern, which at first appears unconventional, was also practised by three other managers included in the study. From the stationary to the nomadic manager Based on their travel practices (degree of mobility) and the proportion of time the managers spend at different locations, the group participating in the study can be broken down into four categories: •

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•

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Stationary Stationary managers travel very little and maintain only one office at a single location. Four of the managers in the study fall into this category. They spend less than 25 per cent of their working time engaged in businessrelated travel. Mobile Mobile managers also have only one office at a single location, but they travel often. Seven of the interviewed managers fall into this category. They spend more than 25 per cent of their working time engaged in businessrelated travel. The amount of their time spent on business trips reaches as much as 50 per cent of their annual working time (only field sales and service representatives or consultants spend more time away). Commuting Commuting managers have several offices at various locations and spend their time commuting between them. However, apart from trips to their various offices, they do not make many external business-related trips. One of the interviewed managers falls into this category. Nomadic Nomadic managers also have several offices at various locations and regularly commute between them; beyond this, they are often called upon to make other external business trips. Two of the managers in the study fall into this category. These managers spend less than one-third of their time at their primary location.

Overall, ten out of fourteen managers included in the study fall into the categories of “mobile”, “commuting”, or “nomadic” managers. As the mobility of upper-level managers increases, so does the problem of these managers’ business-related absence from their workplace. Leadership efficiency is thus increasingly dependent on how well the information flow between the manager and his or her cooperative partners has been organized, regardless of the manager’s current location.

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Preference for face-to-face communication—the prime reason for increasing travel activities In agreement with the observation results, there exists among the interviewed upper-level managers a very strong preference for direct communication, and an apparent aversion to indirect communication via third parties. This particular preference for face-to-face communication is also one of the primary reasons for their intense travel activities. The need for intense contact with internal and external cooperative partners (a result of globalization and the trend towards cooperation between companies that are increasingly widespread geographically) is precisely what causes this increasing mobility among the managers. Additional reasons cited for travel activity include the significance of customer visits and the great value to complex decisions-making processes of personal impressions of individuals and situations “on site”. Three application models of new telemedia in the management area Depending on the situation involved, the case studies resulted in different application models for new media. Within the area examined, the observed ways in which new telecommunication media were employed are linked to varying effects on the working and cooperative structures and on working efficiency. An important assessment criterion is the extent to which the individual application model meets the needs of the upper-level manager’s particular task situation and contributes to solving the problem at hand in a positive manner. The case studies reveal significant differences in communication behaviour that, in particular, include different methods of utilizing the new telemedia. One significant criterion of divergence lies in the managers’ utilization of the asynchronous telecommunication media: e-mail and voice mail. Autocratic and cooperative models as alternatives in the utilization of new media There are the so-called “heavy users”—the majority of those studied—who make intensive use of the new telemedia, while a minority of the managers do not utilize these media to any significant extent. Among the heavy users there are also significant differences in the ways they use telemedia: i.e. in the communication pattern. Particularly with regard to new, asynchronous telemedia, two application models stand out: the autocratic model and the cooperative model In the autocratic model, the manager personally takes over the operation and utilization of, for example, voice mail and e-mail (autocratic utilization), while, in the cooperative model, the manager uses these telemedia, but leaves the actual operation to the secretarial staff (assisted employment of new media). Based on the form and intensity of the utilization of new telemedia, clustering can be applied to the fourteen case studies to reveal three groups of upper-level managers who can be assigned to three application models for the new media:

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Traditional: The first group, of four managers, does not utilize e-mail or voice mail at all, or only to a limited extent. All the upper-level managers in this group do, however, make great use of the telephone and conventional mail in their communications. Autocratic: The second group, of six managers, utilizes e-mail or voice mail intensively and personally. Two of them make little use of e-mail, but are particularly frequent users of voice mail. Cooperation: The third group also contains four managers, who are all intense users of e-mail. Generally, however, the actual operation is handled by the secretarial staff. All incoming messages are printed out for the manager on a daily basis. The media are only utilized autocratically in special situations and during business-related travel.

The three application models are not organization- or culture-specific Attempts to classify the communication patterns of the upper-level managers according to their individual corporate or national cultures did not result in such distinct delineation as was found by clustering according to application models. While it can be assumed that the corporate and national cultures influence the application pattern, no homogenous application pattern was detected among the three companies involved in the study. The decisive factors involved are personality and cooperative structure, on the one hand, and the heterogeneity of the organizations themselves, on the other. It can generally be assumed that all three of the application models described can be found in all organizations in which employees have access to all forms of communication. Influence of the application models on the work efficiency of the upper-level managers The evaluation also deals with changes in the work situation, with various application models for new media and the related effects on the work efficiency of the managers. How is the work efficiency of upper-level managers changed by the different application models of new telecommunication media? Both individual managers and individual secretarial staff members are of the opinion that a manager loses time if he or she personally operates new telecommunication media (autocratic model). Therefore, the number of communication activities per hour and the number of daily tasks performed will be employed as a measure of the work efficiency of the upper-level managers. In all three user groups, the mean hourly activity rates (daily volume of activity, adjusted for differences in the length of the working day) are constant at about ten activities per hour. Each day, all three groups of managers perform an average of nine to ten different tasks. However, taking the differences in the lengths of the individual managers’ working days into account, there are indications that those operating according to the autocratic model have some advantages with respect to time.

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Global acting at the upper management level: geographic distribution of cooperative relationships The globalization of the business activities of multinational corporations presents the upper-level managers with the vital task of working together with geographically distant, external partners and overseeing employees at distant locations. A comparison of the number and geographic distribution of the cooperative partners with whom managers communicated on a given observation day reveals significant differences (see Figure 6.2). A high proportion of distant cooperative partners is evident among the upper-level managers in the autocratic model (35 per cent). In the other two groups, the proportion of distant cooperative partners is less than 15 per cent. These results permit the deduction to be made that a relationship exists between the utilization of telemedia and the geographic distribution of the cooperative partners (global acting). The autocratic manager—a master of global acting The assessments of the three manager groups provided by their respective employees also conform to this result. From the findings of the interviews with employees working at a geographical distance, the intense utilization of telemedia in management represents one primary prerequisite for spatial decentralization. It provides the remote employees with opportunities for participation similar to those enjoyed by local employees. The interviews reveal that employees acting at remote locations, who are in personal contact with their boss via telephone, e-mail, or voice mail (autocratic model), are very satisfied with the degree of access to him. Direct contact to the manager is particularly

Figure 6.2 Average number of cooperation partners per day and their geographic distribution Source: © Pribilla, Reichwald and Goecke 1996 Note: Results of the two-day observation of 14 top managers

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emphasized. In contrast, the two other groups more often mentioned difficulties in spontaneously gaining access to their superior. The employees complained less about problems in quickly communicating urgent and vital information, than in a lack of personal contact with their remote boss. Employees of autocratic managers who work at remote locations are very satisfied with their access to their boss. Although the remote employees of upper-level managers operating along the lines of the cooperative or traditional models see advantages for their own autonomy, they do see themselves as disadvantaged compared to their colleagues at headquarters when it comes to the information flow and contact with the boss. The cooperative model—advantages for local cooperative partners Upper-level managers employing the cooperative model communicate locally with more individuals than their colleagues in the other two groups. This can be traced to two factors: on the one hand, a preference for meetings (generally attended by numerous participants) and, on the other, the fact that this group manifests an exceedingly large volume of e-mail messages that are processed by the secretarial staff. The advantage of this model lies in the fact that personal communication on the part of managers on-site during meetings does not interfere with asynchronous communication via telemedia, that is carried out by the secretarial staff. This makes apparent the particular advantage of the complementarity of these two forms of communication in terms of the possibility of parallel work and also of a certain degree of management efficiency. Overall it can thus be stated that, particularly for local cooperative partners, the advantages of the cooperative model lie in the ability to handle a high volume of communication and provide a high degree of cooperation with numerous partners. Application model and management efficiency The assessment of the efficiency of the application of media in the management area depends on both the situation and the application model involved. Thus, no hard-and-fast statements concerning efficiency are possible; instead, efficiency depends on how the task structure and the cooperative relationships at the local and global level are designed. In general, the results permit the conclusion that the autocratic model of media utilization is highly efficient where there are large numbers of global partners, whereas the cooperative model is highly efficient where there are large numbers of local partners. Global acting and face-to-face communication: the “media paradox” High mobility requirements are among the particular characteristics of working in the upper management area of globally-operating companies. Therefore, the

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question arises as to which application model of new telemedia best supports the social communication needs of mobile managers. The analysis of the travel behaviour of the upper-level managers in the three user groups confirms that the managers who can be categorized into the autocratic model also exhibit the greatest mobility. The traditional model, on the other hand, is primarily represented by the “stationary” managers. Managers who are autocratic users of the new media travel more frequently than their colleagues, and practitioners of the autocratic model are more mobile than practitioners of the cooperative model. These findings confirm the so-called “Media Paradox”, which states that media utilization in management does not contribute to a reduction in business travel, as was often predicted in the past (and continues to be claimed today, particularly with respect to multimedia communications). In fact, the contrary is true: heavy users of telecommunication media are apparently also the “heavy travellers”. This applies to the autocratic model, and there are good reasons for this. On the one hand, the reasons for increasing travel activity by practitioners of the autocratic model lie in the fact that media utilization provides particular support for the preference for face-to-face communication that is apparently still highly prized in global management. On the other hand, autocratic utilization of asynchronous media (calling from a remote location to hear voice mail, remote access to mailboxes from a notebook computer) favours a cooperative style of task-related management (see also Grote, 1994) and permits direct contact with other cooperative partners to be maintained, even on business trips. In this area, mobile communication is gaining increasing significance. Conclusion The work situation of an upper-level manager is characterized by a complex bundle of unstructured tasks that must be performed with the aid of many cooperative partners (internal or external), and by means of a great number of communication processes operating in parallel. Managers are under time pressure, and their tasks are determined from the outside. This situation is getting worse. The primary causes for this deterioration are the new corporate structures (disassembly of hierarchies) and changes in the competitive situation (globalization). In this dilemma, telemedia is both problem solver and problem amplifier for the manager and his or her cooperative partners. The new forms of telecommunication dissolve the traditional boundaries of companies and provide access to international markets (globalization), as well as unimpeded access to business partners, to employees, and to the boss. The consequences for the manager can be seen in an increasing activity level, pressure to react, and more ad hoc tasks to be performed under time constraints. On the other hand, telemedia also offers solutions to these situations through better time management, increased flexibility, and increased mobility for the manager. In practice, three primary application models have been developed: the traditional application model, the autocratic model, and the cooperative model.

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The varying degrees to which the efficiency effects are reflected by these three application models do, however, indicate that none of the three application models for new media offers a complete solution for the efficiency problems detected in work and cooperation within the upper level of management. In this respect, the utilization of new telemedia for managers depends primarily on the extent to which the application model employed supports the fulfillment of the specific requirements of the manager’s work situation and his or her assistants.

The emergence of pluri-local social spaces and the importance of faceto-face communication In order to learn more about the possible emergence of pluri-local social spaces, we looked at management processes in the context of three globally operating high-tech companies. Top managers in these companies are acting across multiple, dispersed work locations. Every day, they are crossing traditional boundaries of time, space and institutional affiliation. If the phenomenon of social space that evolves apart from geographical space exists, it should be reflected in the communication patterns of globally cooperating actors like the top managers in our panel. The result of the empirical examinations of communication activities in this field, however, can be summarized as a “surprise”. While media usage and the spatial distribution of work locations increase, so too does the importance of faceto-face communication in co-located geographical spaces. This particular preference for face-to-face communication among top managers of globally operating corporations has proved to be one of the primary reasons for their intense travel activities as well as for the increasing demand for mobility. This observation fits into the “Media Paradox”: generally, management shows an increasing need for face-to-face communication as a result of globalization and media usage. More face-to-face communication with remote partners acts to increase stress within the manager’s work situation, through physical stress, absence, poor accessibility, and time pressure. Tele-presence via new media in social spaces that emerge apart from geographical locations could represent a way out of this situation, but all previous predictions that telemedia would replace face-to-face communication have shown themselves to be erroneous. In fact, it is the heavy user of telemedia who travels the most. Practitioners of the autocratic model exhibit a particularly high level of mobility. They are apparently in the best position to deal with the new situation. Mastery of media applications inwards, through telemanagement, and mastery of media applications outwards, through telecooperation, gives them the space they need to realize the increasing demand for face-to-face communication with remote partners. The current interplay of globalization, changes in competitive markets, and organizational and technological innovations is forcing managers into a time trap. Activity levels and mobility demands are increasing at the same time,

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because media communication doesn’t seem to fulfill the social communication demands of managerial work within a global context. If rethinking “the relationship between the social and the (geographic) spatial” (Pries 2000, p. 38) could open up new insights that help to find a way out of the current managerial dilemma, this research direction should be followed—even in management research. Notes 1 The study was carried out in cooperation with Siemens AG, Munich. For a detailed description of the overall project and its results see Pribilla et al. 1996, Reichwald et al. 1996 and Goecke 1997. 2 For a more detailed description of the methodology and a generalized overview of the case study concept in analysing work, cooperation, and communications in the topmost level of leadership, together with various methods applied to the different areas under examination, see Goecke (1997). 3 Each meeting, each telephone conversation, each incoming or outgoing voice mail, e-mail, or written message, and each interval of desk-work (intervals during which activities are carried out without the involvement of any media), counts as a complete activity. Work activities include all activities, including paperwork or work at the desk. Communications activities are strictly those involving communications—in which this study does, however, include asynchronous communications processes (such as reading e-mail, writing a letter, etc.). 4 Mintzberg includes all desk activities, dealing with mail, and interactions with secretarial staff under the general heading of “Desk Work” (see Mintzberg 1973, Goecke 1997). 5 Because of the necessary receding, the overall number of activities was somewhat less than the corresponding number in the comparison with Mintzberg’s results. This is because Mintzberg does not count individual conversations with secretarial support personnel and individual letters, but instead only counts the related work intervals as activities. (A detailed description of the various activity definitions and the recoding methods can be found in Goecke 1997).

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Kurke, L.B. and H.E.Aldrich, 1983: “Mintzberg was right! A replication and extension of the nature of managerial work”. In: Management Science, no. 8, pp. 975–984 Mintzberg, H., 1973: The Nature of Managerial Work. Englewood Cliffs: Prentice-Hall Möslein, K., 2000: Bilder in Organisationen-wandel wissen und Visualisierung. Wiesbaden: Gabler Pribilla, P., R.Reichwald and R.Goecke, 1996: Telekommunikation im Management—Strategien für den globalen Wettbewerb. Stuttgart: Schäffer-Poeschl Pries, L., 2001: “The approach of transnational social spaces: Responding to new configurations of the social and the spatial”. In: L.Pries (ed.), New Transnational Social Spaces. London/New York: Routledge, pp. 3–58 Reichwald, R. and R.Goecke. 1994: “New communication media and new forms of cooperation in the top-management area”. In: G.E.Bradley and H..W.Hendrick (eds), Human Factors in Organizational Design and Management—IV. Amsterdam: North-Holland, pp. 511–518 Reichwald, R., R.Goecke and K.Möslein, 1996: “Telekooperation im Top-Management: Das Telekommunikations-Paradoxon”. In: H.Krcmar and G.Schwabe (eds), Herausforderung Telekooperation—Einsatzerfahrungen und Lösungsansätze für öknomische und ökologische, technische und soziale Fragen unserer Gesellschaft. Berlin, Heidelberg, New York: Springer, pp. 107–122 Reichwald, R. and K.Möslein, 1999: “Telework strategies: The diffusion of a workplace innovation”. Proceedings of the Fourth International Telework Workshop, “Telework Strategies for the New Workforce”. Tokyo 1999, pp. 166–175 Reichwald, R., K.Möslein and F.Piller 2000a: “Taking Stock of Distributed Work: The Past, Present and Future of Telecooperation”. ASAC-IFSAM 2000 Conference, July 8–11, Montreal/Quebec, Canada. Reichwald, R., K.Möslein, H.Sachenbacher and H.Englberger, 2000b: Telekooperation— Verteilte Arbeits- und Organisationsformen, 2nd edn, Berlin, Heidelberg, New York: Springer Schreyögg, G. and G.Hübl, 1992: “Manager in Aktion: Ergebnisse einer Beobachtungssttudie in mittelständischen Unternehmen”. In: Zeitschrift Führung und Organisation, vol. 11, March/April, pp. 82–89 Stewart, R., 1967: Managers and their Jobs—A study of the similarities and differences in the ways managers spend their time. London: Macmillan Wigand, R., A.Picot and R.Reichwald, 1997: Information, Organization and Management: Expanding markets and corporate boundaries. Chichester: John Wiley and Sons Yin, R.K., 1994: Case Study Research: Design and methods. Thousand Oaks: Sage Publications

7 Pluri-local social spaces in global operating German companies Hermann Kotthoff

Introduction The question treated in this chapter is how global operating companies are shaping space. It is based on preliminary results of an ongoing research project entitled “Management Process and Corporate Culture in Global Companies”.1 Space is not the main topic of this project; indeed the central themes are concepts like “steering and coordinating” the foreign subsidiaries, “frames of interaction” between central and local management and naturally the topics of “identity and loyalty” of central and local management to the company. Obviously, though, in discussing these questions space is implicitly involved, because you always have to deal with the distribution of competence, power and possible chances of development between different places. The main question addressed in this paper therefore is: Are the main social spaces in which management processes in international companies take place really global? Before presenting empirical findings from the case studies, some general information about the research project is useful. We interviewed top and higher management in three German companies, both at the headquarters in Germany and abroad in European and overseas subsidiaries. At these sites abroad the top level of local management was fully included in our research, and the second level was partly included. Focusing on the coordination between headquarters and foreign plants, we wanted to examine the complete management process. Therefore it was necessary to include all important functions, i.e. finance and controlling, marketing and sales, research and development, production and human resources. The three German companies belong to different industries, one is the truck and bus division of a big automobile company, one is a company with a mixed portfolio and the last one is one of the largest German chemical companies. From the outset we could state that none of them corresponds with the picture of a transnational company, as described in management literature in the well-known scheme of multinational—global-transnational.2 This concept implies that the orientations of the actors are dominated neither by the place of origin nor by the place of arrival but by an emerging new transnational social space. Instead of that we consider a complex variety of social spaces occurring in each company; 134

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they differ between functions and between hierarchies, but the main differences are results of the individual histories of the subsidiaries and the influence of strong local leaders. In this context, the simple scheme of multinational, global, and transnational companies does not seem to be very useful. The question of how actors shape space has to be widened, which then brings us to three main topics. First, what (in the perception of the actors) is the cost-benefit relationship between the overall company and the local people in the foreign places? Is the company developing those places, or is it, on the contrary, a vampire that sucks them dry. Second, in which space does the management of globalization really take place? Third, how do the spatial orientations of the domestics at the headquarters change? These questions refer to the possible effects of shaping space. In respect of the causes, we can distinguish three main areas of action. First, we have the social space of strategic business; this contains all the business and company strategies that refer to and expand into the global space. Second, we have the social space of organization and management. In this area we find the tactical approach: strategy is transformed into the structures and processes of organization. Third and last, we have the social and cultural space which is defined by personal relations and by morality and business standards. These three dimensions of social space structure the following presentation of empirical findings that are extracted from the case studies of the automobile company and the company with a mixed portfolio, which we will call the “mixed company”.

The space of strategic business management The automobile company For more than forty years the automobile company has accumulated international experiences in the truck and bus field in some dozens of production centres all over the world. The importance and the position of these production sites differ widely, and we can define the position of each plant in the company network in terms of lead centres, middle centres and peripherals. Lead centres are defined as plants with an integrated complete production process. We can find this kind of plant only in Brazil and in the United States, and a so-called middle centre in, for example, Turkey.3 In these plants the company produces only the chassis and body of coaches but not components like engines, gears and axles. Various small and peripheral plants have been built up in Africa and Asia which are only CKD assembly facilities;4 they do not produce parts, but only assemble vehicles from imported parts produced in Germany or Brazil. In all foreign subsidiaries, except that in the United States, the company assembles or produces older models that are nearing the end of production in the German plants. The most important parameters for this kind of business space-shaping have been various import restrictions imposed by national governments abroad

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to protect their markets (like high import taxes, regulations governing local content and technical logistic costs and labour costs). This frame for shaping business space has been out of date for about ten years. Reasons for changing the strategy may differ from region to region. In Latin America, for example, national economic politics changed with the setting up of Mercosur,5 which created a regional free trade area with open market access and reduced restrictions on integrating local production into global production networks. Previously the company had operated in the special historical and economic context of protected markets in this macro-region, and over decades a privileged market position and lobbyism helped it to protect its monopolistic position. In these particular circumstances the company was able to sell older models of lower quality for higher prices. But with the advent of free trade the whole situation changed immediately, and competition increased because other truck and bus companies pushed into the regional market. Now the company has to develop new products with higher technologystandards and lower prices. This new approach focuses on synergies in research and development and on economies of scale as a cost-cutting strategy for producing high numbers of identical vehicles. In the background looms the vision of a world truck and a world bus. Interestingly, all our interview partners think this idea is nothing more than an illusion, mainly because of geographic differences across the world, customers’ preferences in the use of the vehicles and specific national regulations. Nevertheless the company tries to extend the development of models for larger markets in wider regions. The aim is not globalization but regionalization, in the sense of continental supra-regions. Via CKD exports, the vehicles built in Brazil are also sold in Africa and Asia. And now for the first time the Turkish plant produces a cheaper, economy-class model for the central European market as well. The managers describe this new path in shaping business space as a stony one, which is paved with failures and flops. One of the most remarkable results of the interviews is that nobody—neither the management in the German headquarters nor the local managers abroad—agrees with the most popular globalization thesis, that global players would be able to undermine the influence of national economies and politics. On the contrary, all discussions about strategy have one central point: that national economic policies and currency policies, especially tax barriers, import restrictions, etc., matter a great deal. The company has to act in a political space with political terms, and these terms may change with the local context. Therefore it has to collaborate with the political and administrative authorities of overseas countries and to care about “good relationships”. There are no real guarantees of an open market structure, there are always inconsistencies and instability. The managers have to consider these implications in their strategy and, despite all the political contradictions, they try to establish step by step a wider production network and to homogenize the global sales activities. But it is not the company’s strategy to produce the same product in different places in order to stimulate competition between plants. It looks for synergies and intensifies the intra-organizational cooperation.

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Long-term engagements are one of the main characteristics of the company’s activities; it is not interested in gaining advantage through short-term activities. So it pursues an upgrading strategy for the subsidiaries, to give them more competence and higher qualification, and has played an active role in industrialregional development. In this way it produces stability and reliability in foreign surroundings. The mixed company The mixed company has a different way of shaping business space. The most important business units produce basic and specialist chemical products, socalled commodities, for industrial customers, and these products have always been produced and sold in an international context. After more than a hundred years this company has—compared to other German firms—very long international experience. Until recent years it followed the principles of decentralized sales activity; its sales departments in foreign countries had a high degree of autonomy, and they sold nearly all products in the company’s portfolio in their local markets and under local circumstances. The recent change in market strategy has to do with a process of oligopolization and of globalization on the part of the company’s industrial customers. These oligopolists (especially in the car-tyre and sport-shoe markets) dominated their suppliers via global pricing strategies. In order to get advantages in pricing policy the mixed company had to become an oligopolist itself: it had to become the number one or number two in the world. One interviewed manager said: “Now the monopolists on the other side will no longer be able to suck us dry. Formerly they could always say ‘We will not buy your products.’ Those times are over now. Today they must buy from us; they cannot ignore us any longer.” In contrast to the automobile company, this firm has transformed the world into one homogenized business space; it seems that local idiosyncrasies are no longer a barrier to doing business. This was only achieved by an enormous recentralization of all sales activities. Where once the sales departments all over the world acted as if they were independent islands, now the uniform marketing approach binds all subsidiaries into one policy line. This would be a perfect way of creating a Coca-Cola or McDonalds structure of corporate culture, but, as we shall see, the company is actually far from doing this.

The spatial organization of production In both companies fundamental restructuring processes and re-organizations have taken place in recent years. The motto for this change has been “decentralization”. The truck and bus company transformed its functional and centralized structures into autonomous business units. In the formal sense, many things have changed, but in reality operative decentralization has been a form of

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intensified strategic re-centralization, because the management of the business units tries to get more and more control over the plants.6 The most amazing result of our research was in fact the dominant opinion that the large reorganizational processes did not lead to a wholly new pattern of intra-organizational space-shaping. The top managers we consulted distinguish clearly between the formal structure of the organization and the real, living structure. The position and degree of autonomy of a subsidiary, its relations to the board and to central functions in Germany, and, last not least, the careers of the local management are strongly influenced by three dominant factors: the economic success of the subsidiary in the past, the personality of the leaders, and the informal and personal contacts of the whole local management with the headquarters in Germany. Every subsidiary has its well defined position in the prestige ranking of the whole company, and this position depends mainly on how the local leaders use their influence on its behalf. To an unexpected degree, the subsidiary gets identified with the names of successive local heroes and their personal connections with the Chief Executive Officer (CEO) of the company. Such personal connections to the headquarters are decisive not only at the level of top managers but also in succeeding levels of the hierarchy. The interviewed managers stress that it is very important for advancement in their work to know the right people at headquarters personally and to have joined them for a beer. It seems that—even in such large organizations, over such great geographical distances and in the face of such an intensive use of electronic communication media—the most effective means of lubricating in the course of daily affairs is to know somebody personally. The space of organization coincides to some degree with the space of personal connections and cooperation in the company. That is the informal and friendly nexus of people making their careers in the company. As we have seen, the mixed company differs from the automobile company in the greater degree of worldwide homogenization in its space of business, but we find the same difference also in its space of organization. It also has defined business areas based on different product lines, but in very different manner. Sales and marketing leads the whole business, and all other functions have to follow it, including production. That means that the salesman has a determining influence on volume and quality that the plants must produce, and the plant manager is devalued. All plants around the world producing the same kind of product are closely connected. Production is now seen as a relatively simple task, and sales is seen as the main value-adding function; for a country like Germany, whose chemical industry used to be technology-oriented, this is a revolution. Now the company consists of ten worldwide unified organizational spaces within which travelling and the exchange of communication is intensified. The space of organization is the extension of the scope of control, the space in which management activities are correlated and connected. In both companies the space of organization is nearly identical with the radius of action and control of the headquarters. In recent years decentralization has made this space larger, not smaller. In the past local subsidiaries had more autonomy, but today they

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have more value and relevance for the corporation, and, because they are more important, they are kept on a shorter rein. For the first time the Chief Executive in Germany becomes a real space-dominator. In organizational terms, the company’s worldwide operations have become a German venture, albeit one that has to take local contexts into consideration. This process is much more advanced in the mixed company than in the automobile company.

The social and cultural space of values and orientations Members of senior management argue that the most important condition for becoming a successful global company is the emergence of a common social and cultural space. They all are deeply convinced that they have to act according to the maxim that a group whose members can rely on each other and know what they want to do will achieve whatever it sets out to do. The managers we consulted gave us a lesson in the basic sociology of nearly all aspects of cohesion, coordination, cooperation and integration. In their opinion the greatest threats are the growing centrifugal forces that may lead to fragmentation. It seems to become more and more difficult to guarantee integration and cooperation.7 All of them therefore agreed with the manner in which the German top management was leading the global company—an entirely German manner. In their subsidiaries all over the world the companies we studied have German senior managers, the language is German, and the philosophy is German. Some of them see the organization not just as a German company but as a typical Swabian or Hessian company. There are similarities between both companies in the strong, German-centred manner in which they are shaping the social and cultural space, in spite of the many differences in their ways of shaping business and organizational space. Regarding the main feature of the social and cultural space in the automobile and mixed company, those differences have so far had no strong effects. Therefore the two companies will be analysed together. Human resource management is the most important dimension in social space. When the companies recruit managers for key positions in subsidiaries abroad candidates must always be very reliable and absolutely loyal to the company. Nearly half the management at levels one and two are expatriate Germans from the headquarters in Germany. The other managers are locals who are familiar with German culture—acculturated to it and socialized in it for whom German is a second mother tongue. For example, in Brazil the company often recruits people of German descent; in Turkey they prefer people who have lived in Germany as the children of Turkish migrants and studied at German universities. Not only top-level management positions but also those in the second and third tiers are filled by foreign managers who are German in habits, language, and culture—and all secretaries working for managers in the first three hierarchy levels are women who are native German-speakers. We can say the main prerequisite for the recruitment of the staff in the offices is familiarity with

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German culture. Both companies also make use of German-influenced cultural institutions in foreign countries. Metaphorically speaking, they benefit from the Goethe-Institutes and are themselves in some sense like Goethe-Institutes. There is a strong dominance of German culture in all foreign subsidiaries. To ensure a space of trust is seen as the central problem. In the companies’ recruitment for special key functions subtle differences between expatriates and acculturated foreign managers are detectable. One exclusively finds expatriates in key functions like controlling and finance. The companies do not want to risk any form of lack of loyalty in these vital areas. The native managers do not perceive this form of cultural priority as a kind of hubris. On the contrary, they see the typical German corporate culture and the German habits of steering and control as necessary standards in every case and they proudly identify themselves with these rules. A local top manager in Sao Paulo told us: “If I had a bakery and I were planning to open a subsidiary one hundred kilometres from home, I always would send my brother to manage it. I would never take a local. If you call that control, then it is control.” And a Turkish manager says: We cannot install our own culture and say “We have to act according to Turkish habits.” If we did that, we would have no integration with Germany, with the headquarters. The staff in the offices has to be acquainted with German culture, because if we cooperate with the German headquarters, they have to understand what we do. Therefore we prefer employees who grew up in Germany, who studied in Germany, or who went to German schools in Turkey. They all should have a German philosophy of life. That is very important for us, otherwise we will be lost. In this place we do not have a mixed culture, the German culture is the dominant one. Not only the management but also the majority of the staff in the offices is socialized and integrated into the corporate culture that is dominated by the headquarters in Germany. But the social space in the subsidiaries abroad is divided. The lower hierarchies, and especially the workers on the shop floor, live in the native social space of the country. Therefore the local plant manager is normally a native, and not an expatriate. The function of a plant manager or production manager is the only position in the subsidiary with a high degree of freedom and local autonomy That includes human resource management, the manner and habit of interaction and communication, all forms of work control. There are degrees of freedom in the working concept and methods of rationalization and optimization as well. Elsewhere, this native way of doing things was found only in the sales operations aimed at local markets. Here we always noticed locals who know how to sell their products in the specific manner appropriate to these markets. In both companies the strongly ethnocentric shaping of the social space has the same justification. One reason is the necessity for loyalty. Both companies

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have had bad experiences with lack of loyalty, especially in the form of promising young native managers who, once they had learned their trade, left the company and joined competitors. Another reason is so as to avoid leakages of technological know-how; for this reason the mixed company shapes its social space in a way that excludes non-German managers from meetings of technical experts in subsidiaries where it is not the majority shareholder. Another justification for ethnocentrism is the necessity for dense, informal contacts with the German key personnel at the headquarters. The German expatriates are acknowledged as much as they are just because they are the owners of valuable German social and cultural capital. What kind of people are the expats? How is their own social space shaped? Does transnational space-shaping apply at least to this small elite group? The number of expats is small, and they are nearly all Germans sent out from the headquarters for fixed periods, mostly three or four years. They are the link between the headquarters and the local dependencies, they are cultural ambassadors and missionaries, and they are also inspectors. They perceive themselves as on a mission—which means that Germany is their homeland and they are only on a temporary journey through the foreign world. Their aim is to return home in order to make quicker progress up the career ladder as a result of their international experience. Unfortunately, this does not happen. In both companies the expats are ignored and forgotten when appointments to higher positions are made. They complain that their motivation for mobility is not acknowledged, despite all the talk of the need for internationalization and globalization, and they complain that there is no systematic development of an international management cadre, and in particular no career planning for those who return. When their mission is over, many do not find an appropriate position in Germany and have to undertake another foreign posting. There are also a very few expats who do not return to Germany, because they have found in their mission country a new homeland and settle there—normally because they have found a native life-partner. We met only two examples of the expat type of globetrotter, who has no homeland. These had an untypical biography: as members of a diplomatic or expat family they had travelled around since their early youth, had never lived in Germany for long and had never worked in the headquarters. With regard to expats we have a one-way situation. Germans travel around the world and come back again, but it is very seldom that foreign locals are sent for to the German headquarters for any length of time. Even more infrequent is the international horizontal exchange of managers between local subsidiaries. All the people we interviewed said that most of the locals in foreign countries have no motivation for mobility. The life of German expats during their postings varies from subsidiary to subsidiary. In small, remote, and culturally unattractive places they often build a kind of colony and have a dense community, although in most of the bigger towns around the world they build no community but behave rather like longterm tourists. In the few megalopolis cities of the business and financial world,

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like Sao Paulo, Singapore and Hong Kong, we found quite another type of behaviour. The congregation of large companies in such places creates a relatively high proportion of inhabitants who behave like a big international community with some attributes of a multi-cultural lifestyle. German short-term visitors constitute another kind of personal link between the headquarters and the subsidiaries abroad. These are experts in particular functions who stay for some days or weeks to carry out special tasks, normally consulting and training the locals. In recent years the number of short-term visits has increased. Another quite new phenomenon is that even members of the Executive board of the corporation come to visit the locals. Company travel in general has increased, though the motto is always the same: “all roads lead to Rome”. Such travels are confined to the higher managers; lower management and qualified workers travel only when a new plant opens—though then they do so in their hundreds. Besides human-resource policy the dissemination and mediation of values is another fundamental way of shaping the social space. The two work together: the human-resource policies ensure that German company values fall on fertile ground. In the eyes of the native local managers typical German company values are: a long-term view of the whole venture and its investment, German quality standards, social responsibility on the part of the employer, fair treatment and personal recognition, some sensitivity to foreign cultures (in every case, they say, more than the Americans and Japanese have), and, last not least, a leadership style which is consent-oriented. Because the foreign managers greatly appreciate this German way of running the company they identify themselves very strongly with the company as a corporate entity. One of them says: “We feel involved and obligated. We will defend XY [name of the company] in every way. We believe very much in German standards of quality. And we are convinced by XY’s family philosophy. That’s it. That’s what the XY tradition means to me.” And a Latin American top manager in the mixed company says: “The company family still exists, otherwise it would be brutal. We belong to this club. We are fans of it. You feel a part of a whole activity all over the world. Perhaps our loyalty is much greater than the company would like.” It should be emphasized that the German-centred model of shaping social and cultural space was not seen by the local managers as a sign of cultural hegemony. In their view, it was not the sign of an attitude of superiority. For the company it was just the easiest and most effective way to manage the big problem of coordination and integration. Conclusions Summarizing our findings, the shaping of the social and cultural space of values, attitudes and orientations is one which has a high and most consistent priority for managers. Hitherto changes in the space of business strategy and in the operative space of business and production organization have not provoked a change in shaping the social space. The social shaping is widely considered a

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very difficult and challenging company task. All our companies managed this task mainly through the following three policies: 1 2

3

sending “missionaries” to all subsidiaries for limited periods; making use of German cultural institutions in the foreign country and integrating the people who have experienced a German acculturation there; and sustainable dissemination of the virtues and values of German company culture.

Our research indicates that the business strategy of the companies does not replace national politics, and that the organizational space is not understandable in terms of formal structure and restructuring alone. In fact, there is a social and cultural space that pluri-locally spans headquarters and dependencies, but in our case studies this “transnational social space” was very ethnocentric. It had nothing to do with the notions of “transnational” or “global” companies normally used in the management literature. The companies are still “made in Germany”. It is well known that in the future the slogan “made in Germany” is to be transformed into—for example—“made by Mercedes-Benz”, but it is very ironical to see how international managers translate this new transnational slogan. One manager in Turkey said: “In Turkey XY is good because it is German. Therefore, as XY managers, we say to people in our country: ‘In the Turkish subsidiary we have our German friends, and they look after standards of quality. So, although this is of course the enterprise XY-Turk, it is a part of the real German XY company.”’ Our automobile company has merged with a big American company, so it may now be beginning a new phase of its history that will change the picture we have presented here. The managers we interviewed in this company expect changes in the shaping of all the three spaces. But it is interesting that they referred less to the shaping of the social and cultural space. They cannot imagine that the result will be a new common mixed culture. They expect a unification of business and a unification of administrative procedures, but they cannot believe in the unification of the corporate cultures across the Atlantic ocean.

Notes 1 2 3 4

The research project is supported by Deutsche Forschungsgemeinschaft (DFG), BonnBad-Godesberg. See, e.g., Bartlett and Ghoshal 1989; Dülfer 1992; Flecker and Schienstock 1994; Heidenreich and Schmidt 1991; Macharzina and Oesterle 1997; Ruigrok and van Tulder 1995. Concerning general strategy patterns of German automobile companies in a comparative perspective, see, e.g.,Jürgens 1992. CKD is the abbreviation for “completely knocked down”: complete sets of all parts needed for finishing a product, e.g. a truck, are produced in one place and then assembled in another.

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5 Mercosur is the regional free trade zone between Argentina, Brazil, Paraguay, and Uruguay. 6 Concerning the debate on centralization and decentralization see, e.g., Faust et al. 1994;Sydow 1992. 7 Interesting studies on the social-cultural aspects of company internationalization are, e.g., Buhr 1998; Dülfer 1992.

Bibliography Bartlett, C. and S.Ghoshal, 1989: Managing Across Borders. The transnational solution. London: Century Business Buhr, R., 1998: Unternehmen als Kulturräume: Eigensinnige betriebliche Integrationsprozesse im transnationalen Kontext. Berlin: Sigma Dülfer, E., 1992: Internationales Management in unterschiedlichen Kulturbereichen. München/ Wien: Oldenbourg Faust, M., P.Jauch, K.Brünnecke, and Ch. Deutschmann, 1994: Dezentralisierung von Unternehmen. München/Mering: Hampp Flecker, J. and G.Schienstock, 1994: “Globalisierung, Konzernstrukturen und Konvergenz der Arbeitsorganisation”. In: N.Beckenbach and W.van Treeck (eds), Umbrüche gesellschaftlicher Arbeit. Soziale Welt, special issue 9. Göttingen: Schwartz, pp. 625–642 Heidenreich, M. and G.Schmidt (eds), 1991: International vergleichende Organisationsforschung. Opladen: Westdeutscher Verlag Jürgens, U., 1992: “Internationalization strategies of Japanese and German automobile companies”. In: S.Togunaga, N.Altmann and H.Demes (eds), New Impacts of Industrial Relations: Internationalization and changing production strategies. München: Deutschen Institut für Japanstudien der Philipp-Franz-von-Siebold-Stiftung, pp. 63–96 Macharzina, K. and M.-J.Oesterle (eds), 1997: Handbuch Internationales Management. Wiesbaden: Gabler Ruigrok, W. and R.van Tulder, 1995: The Logic of International Restructuring. London/New York: Routledge Sydow,J., 1992: Strategische Netzwerke. Wiesbaden: Gabler

8 The transnationalization of companies and their industrial relations Jürgen Kädtler and Hans-Joachim Sperling

Introduction Most discussion of globalization and its effects on enterprises and their employees is based on the assumption that the future will be bleak for the actors and institutions of industrial relations. Just as it is assumed that the national state is increasingly unable to regulate domestic affairs, it is also assumed that national systems of labour relations have lost their importance or are on the verge of losing it. This view is based on the assumption that the national character of institutions and systems of regulation will not be able to withstand the onslaught of global economic change. Enterprises acting transnationally, so the argument runs, can quite easily avoid national standards of regulation, whether they are established by law or collective agreement. Global players are assumed to be willing and able to choose the most advantageous work conditions, wage scales and systems of social security by transferring productive functions to locations which are seen as “favourable”: i.e. cheaper and less regulated. More importantly, the mere threat of relocation enables these global players to demand concessions from employees and their representatives, thus undermining work conditions and social standards. Even the German model of industrial relations, which is seen as comparatively stable, may lose importance and effectiveness as a result of increased transnational economic activity. Such appraisals are not completely unsubstantiated, and can certainly be supported by citing single enterprises or industrial sectors as examples. Whether these examples legitimatize such far-reaching conclusions remains to be seen. In our view, though, there is already sufficient ground for scepticism towards causal and one-dimensional statements about globalization. Especially misleading are statements which argue that the forces of globalization do not allow for choice or the use of strategy on the part of political actors (at national or international level) or the actors in industrial sectors or individual companies. Whether and how different actors deal with new challenges and opportunities to restructure and optimize production transnationally is a theme that needs theoretical clarification and empirical analysis. We base this need on our assumption that actors influence global developments via a multitude of decisions about objectives and strategies. Actors 145

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do not simply adapt to external forces. Hübner argues quite convincingly that globalization can be characterized as a “highly unique, ambivalent and strategic process within changing institutional structures and norms” which is “penetrated by microeconomic logic, yet cannot be reduced to rational economic reasoning”, thus “causing changes in the set of options for economic actors in different ways” (Hübner 1998, pp. 23, 24). The answer to our question about the future of industrial relations thus remains open and uncertain. Is capacity and competence to act, as well as the bargaining power of labour representation, reduced to zero as a result of the transnationalization of economic activities? Or will actors be able to create, try out and adopt new regulatory institutions and bargaining mechanisms at various levels in order to open new paths and develop new strategies, and thereby improve transnational employee representation? Lastly, we must determine which options are pursued and applied by the managers and employers of transnational companies in order to control and coordinate human resources in the course of restructuring and repositioning enterprises under new economic conditions. In this chapter1 we present trends and arguments which support our thesis that the economic and political changes produced by processes of “globalization” do not necessarily reduce the scope of action or the strategic options available to the actors of industrial relations. Disregarding for the moment the constraints and dilemmas which may result from processes of “globalization”, we see clear indications that, at least in a European context, a “transnationalization” of actors and institutions is taking place. For the time being, however, these developments are not well enough understood to provide a stable framework for action according to a clear set of institutionalized patterns or well-established routines.

The European works council: a new transnational actor As a result of economic internationalization remarkable institutional and procedural innovations have taken place since the mid–1990s and have changed the nature of relations between employers and employees. For example, by adopting the “Directive on the Establishment of a European Works Council or a procedure in a Community-scale group undertaking for the purposes of informing and consulting employees” in September 1994, the EU Council of Ministers established its presence in the globalization game. But the outcome of this game is still open-ended. In fact, for quite a while it was unclear whether the EU would establish laws to regulate labour on the supranational level at all. Considering the directive’s long, chequered and controversial history, reaching back into the early 1970s, the passing of the directive, its transfer into national law and the fact that its implementation is obligatory (with graduated time scales) must be seen as a milestone on the way to transnational labour relations (Lecher et al. 1998).

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The emerging relevance of established European Works Councils—more than 500 thus far—is based largely on the fact that the European Commission’s original goal, of laying down coherent and binding standards for worker participation, was renounced in favour of weaker systems of information distribution and labour consultation. The actors in the companies were thereby granted leeway in the implementation of the directive, with the result that a multitude of information and consultation procedures are now in place. Preliminary assessments of agreements make it clear that these procedures are quite variable in their scope. For the time being, though, it is still unclear how the companies will actually enact the formal framework of the agreements. The practical effectiveness of transnational worker representation and coordination and the ways in which transnational representation and coordination will compete with each other will only be clear after a lot of trial and error. Without attempting to generalize, we would like to consider the bargaining procedures that are used when dealing with transnational labour issues. We will consider these procedures by looking at a few corporations which operate internationally. We hope thereby to clarify the ways in which the national and international actors and structures of representation are differentiated and intertwined in order to achieve coherent transnational competence. We will concentrate on two industries which play significant roles in the formation of industrial structures as a whole: the automobile and the chemical industries. These two industries show different patterns of internationalization and embody two. different strategies that German corporations and unions use to deal with industrial relations: a strategy often used in the automobile industry that is based on conflict and cooperation (“Konfliktpartnerschaft”), and another that is often used in the chemical industry and is based on the creation of a social partnership (“Sozialpartnerschaft”). These two strategies have to be seen as mere variants of one model with a large intersection. This is mainly because of the partnership approach of the legally institutionalized employees’ representation at plant and company level (Betriebsuerfassung) which at the same time serves the shop-floor level of unions.

Transnational worker representation in the automobile industry From a historical perspective, German automobile companies (the “big three” Volkswagen, Mercedes-Benz, BMW—and the German subsidiaries of General Motors/Opel and Ford) have responded differently to internationalization. But in the 1990s, when corporate restructuring was in full swing, the activities of German automobile companies began to look very similar. This was because it had become clear to them that they had to establish globally oriented marketing and production systems in order to be able to compete. In response to growing competition between car producers, globally interconnected production facilities have been built up in order to optimize cost structures, and traditional exportoriented strategies are no longer acceptable. Whereas at the beginning of the

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1980s the quota of foreign production amounted to roughly one quarter of total production, this ratio has increased rapidly and reached 38 per cent in 1999. Volkswagen Undoubtedly, the Volkswagen group has led the way in internationalizing production (its first efforts to internationalize production date back to the 1950s). Nevertheless, the need to coordinate production and worker representation did not arise until the 1980s, when the development and coordination of production and supply capacities made it possible to supplement traditional export strategies. These developments became especially important after the acquisition of SEAT and Skoda and the integration of these brands into the Volkswagen group. Since Volkswagen’s expansion made the relocation of production functions more likely, it became increasingly clear that there was a growing need to improve the coordination of worker representation. According to the works council, the acquisition of SEAT and the transfer of parts of the Polo production line to Spain, resulted in stiffer competition, because for the first time in Volkswagen’s history competition between its own plants became a reality. Since this process was co-managed and coordinated by more than one representative body, and because of favourable structural and economic conditions, the transfer of production operations had positive results. This “successful crucial experience” (as a works council member put it) also stimulated transnational information and consultation procedures and placed them on the agenda during negotiations between management and work councils. As a result of these developments an agreement on the establishment of a European Volkswagen Combine Committee was signed on a voluntary basis in 1990, before a political decision was made by the EU. After a prolonged pilot run the agreement was formally ratified in 1992. Additionally, in the second half of the 1990s a World Employees Conference and a World Combine Committee were established, although with fewer formalized rights of information and consultation. Labour representatives have responded to the growing integration and interdependence of labour divisions within the Volkswagen group (which were established at Volkswagen in the mid–1980s) by creating a joint structure for information distribution, communication and cooperation, and this in turn has led to an institutionalization of new bargaining arenas. These developments did not imply a homogenization of labour representation structures based in different locations; instead, local labour representation structures retained their national political character. In addition, the cooperation practised so far within the European Works Council has created a higher degree of transparency and efficient coordination: a prerequisite for negotiations between labour representation and management in and between respective locations. In the case of Volkswagen it appears to be crucial for the process and mechanism of transnational labour representation that the competence for articulating and enforcing interests has its centre in the well-established German system of industrial relations. This is not merely a result of the fact that German

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representatives have an influential personal and organizational presence in transnational bodies. Past experiences have indicated that the efficient coordination of interests between different locations relies on the dominance of the German model of regulation. The interplay of institutionally stable worker participation procedures is, in the specific case of Volkswagen, intensified by political constellations. For example, labour representatives are also members of the supervisory board and put into practice their coherent understanding of and practical experience with “cooperative conflict management”. This political constellation provides Volkswagen with a frame of reference that makes it possible to conduct negotiation processes aimed at producing balanced decisions about the utilization of production facilities, the distribution of competencies and the securing of employment. Final decisions on these matters are then made during joint planning rounds held by the executive and supervisory boards. One might object, perhaps justifiably, that Volkswagen’s way of doing business cannot be generalized and copied as best practice, since Volkswagen’s specific institutional and political structures have been shaped and influenced by strong and distinctive actors. But this objection is undermined by the fact that similar trends and patterns arose during the development of transnational industrial relations by European subsidiaries of General Motors, despite the fact that in several ways these subsidiaries are organized quite differently from Volkswagen. It is not just transnational management strategies and employees’ resulting need to coordinate that has been an important stimulus for this development; specific disturbances that resulted from the reorganization of management have also played a role. General Motors/Opel Since the mid–1980s GM’s European activities have been coordinated and controlled by its European Headquarters which is located in Zurich (Switzerland). The influence exerted by GM’s international and European levels of management has changed over time. Once primarily involved in coordination activities, they are beginning to exercise their power strategically, thus restricting the strategic ability of national locations to develop product and market strategies and establish developmental priorities and operative responsibilities. It is quite likely that this centralized strategy of globalization has been responsible for the weakening of GM’s market position in Europe over the last few years (this argument has been made by members of the GM management who succeeded in rearranging tasks and responsibilities in the management of products and production). Without further discussing the confrontations between and within GM’s national and international levels of management, it should also be emphasized that the labour representatives of GM’s supervisory board played an active role and used their influence to create and grant an extension of local responsibilities. The limited freedom of choice that national locations had in the 1990s also reduced employee representatives’ room for manoeuvre. National labour

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representatives were only able to deal with competition between different locations within a national location-oriented bargaining context. This meant that management was able to push through lower labour standards (lower wage scales and longer work hours, for example); subsequently, stronger locations were confronted with these standards as obligatory targets. This trend can be seen if one considers the work and production organization system that was recently introduced at Opel’s Eisenach plant and the new regulations on weekend work and ten-hour shifts included in a flexibilization scheme at Opel’s plant in Antwerp, Belgium. Opel, unlike Volkswagen, does not belong to the pioneers who established EWCs early on. The establishment of an EWC at Opel, under the title “European Employee Forum”, took place only in autumn 1996 (at a time when voluntary agreements according to article 13 were still possible) because the American-dominated management was at first reluctant to support the idea. Meanwhile, the German works council became the initiator and the driving force in the implementation of transnational representation. The German works council’s strong role derives from its well-established position in the national system of worker participation as well as the fact that more than half of GM Europe’s employees work in four German plants—other European production locations are in the United Kingdom (Vauxhall), Spain, Belgium, Sweden (Saab), Austria, Portugal, Hungary and Poland. It is a central aim of the European Works Council to limit and control the practice of “competitive underbidding” (Hancké 1998), as outlined here. But before this goal can be realized, certain prerequisites will need to be fulfilled. In the view of one member of the European Works Council, it must be an advantage not to start with a set of legally binding regulations which, with regard to competition between different plants, make consensual agreements unlikely. Rather, experience makes it clear that the primary task lies in setting up information-distribution networks and trying out mechanisms of consultation which provide the basis for open communication based on a foundation of mutual trust. This sort of process was activated and supported by two unilateral management decisions which triggered mutual processes of information-sharing between EWC members and helped them develop a common action perspective. In the first case, the central European managers announced their decision to install a so-called “aware line”—a telephone hot line which employees could use to anonymously report the deviant and conspicuous behaviour by co-workers. Trade unions rejected the idea, called it the “denouncement line” and began to establish and put into action systems for the distribution of information and communication between different locations. This inter-plant communication was initiated by the European Works Council and led to a common front of opposition; the eventual withdrawal of the plan to install the “aware line” drew attention to transnational representation as an efficient means of collective action. In the second case, in the autumn of 1997, the EWC was faced with a central management decision to conduct a Europe-wide process of benchmarking (a

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socalled template study) without first consulting or informing individual plants. A central team was to assess European production locations and evaluate them, using NUMMI and Eisenach as the standards. The object was to develop optimization programmes for individual locations (Eller-Braatz and Klebe 1998). The German works council was able to achieve a halting of the template study by appealing to the industrial tribunal; the appeal lasted until the statutory process of information and consultation was finished. The European Works Council was also opposed to the plan, however, without being equipped with codified rights of co-determination. In the end, the benchmarking study was not stopped, but the coordinated activities that the study triggered led to a broad exchange of information and assessments at local and transnational level. The actors involved found that their collective activities strengthened practical work relations, and the EWC became more important as a collective actor in its own right. It is true that the EWC is limited in its ability to act, not yet forceful enough and lacking resources, but the processes of information and consultation it has initiated can be seen as a step toward improved influence. Negotiations over employment and production that also took place at this period were not truly transnational in nature, but they did involve a greater degree of information exchange than previous rounds. It is also now possible for those involved to imagine that the next round of agreements on investment, products, development and capacities, will be characterized by a higher degree of coordination, perhaps even during the negotiations themselves. This idea is supported by the fact that the networking between different plant locations that has been conducted by the works councils’ trade union representatives has improved considerably, leading to relations between actors that are based on trust, despite management’s continued emphasis on competition. Nonetheless, future crises in the automobile industry are quite likely, since the industry is characterized by a tendency to build up overcapacity. Whether the networks of communication that have been established will prove stable in the future remains to be seen. The fact that the foundations of transnational representation are growing more stable is demonstrated by the EWC’s initiative to hold an information and coordination meeting with General Motor’s employee representatives in North America and Brazil. But managers can also exchange and distribute their learning experience. This is indicated by the fact that a manager with European experience was entrusted with the reorganizing of industrial relations in North America after the disastrous strikes there in the summer of 1998. Mercedes-Benz Increased international networking between employee representatives can be expected as a result of the recent merger between Daimler-Benz and Chrysler. As a passenger-car manufacturer Daimler-Benz, or Mercedes-Benz, was until recently a predominantly German corporation. It provided international markets with a high proportion of exported products and maintained a global sales and

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service network without having foreign production facilities worth mentioning (Büchtemann and Kuhlmann 1996). This background dominated corporate attitudes to foreign interest representation, although the truck branch has built up foreign production capacities in the past, and Mercedes-Benz’ entry into the aircraft and space industry fostered the international alignment that led to the creation of Daimler-Benz. The total proportion of foreign employees in the concern amounted to about one quarter in the first half of the 1990s, and the unreported number for the car division (the proportion for foreign car production is less than 5 per cent) is much lower. The establishment of an EWC at the group level was not of much importance to the interested parties. But managers did take advantage of an opportunity provided by the EU guideline to sign a voluntary contract in order to avoid the lengthy procedures that guideline set forth. The contracted establishment of an EWC for the “Information and Consultation of Employees on a European Level” in July 1996 grants the main portion of the EWC seats to the members of the German combine committee. Besides the two German chairmen of the combine committee, one representative of the Spanish truck plant as well as one representative of the Smart factory in Hambach belong to the EWC presidency. As for the car division, it is mainly representatives of the foreign distribution centres that belong to the committee, and they have bundled their representation by forming a subcommittee. In light of this heterogeneous constellation it is not surprising that the EWCs have not been able to gain much of an independent profile thus far. At best, the EWC has given representatives of foreign locations the opportunity to get firsthand information from the board of directors. Moreover, representatives have been able to establish contact with German works council members and present their specific national-local problems at annual meetings, which—at least from the point of view of their German partners—was coupled with the danger that second-rate topics would dominate the debates. Because of the dominance of the car division, on the one hand, and the car division’s focus on domestic locations, on the other, discussions about product, investment, and location decisions did not fall within the purview of transnational interest coordination. The location problems faced by German plants, which had been negotiated with German management in preceding years, did not get much attention within the information and consultation level of the transnational committee. In those cases where competition for products and locations between German and foreign plants loom on the horizon, which could apply to the bus division’s plant in Turkey, works council members are not represented at the EWC. The relative importance and experience of the EWC is summarized by a German member as follows: The EWC is an information committee. We never saw it differently. There, the board of directors has to turn up and give a report about the economic situation. We also try to compare notes, but this, I have to admit, is not very important for us. We don’t need Europe to achieve what we need to achieve as a works council. On the other hand, they have their own

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structures in their own countries. One should give them a chance to address management directly. Until recently, and since this committee has existed, we haven’t had any real problems, fortunately. According to the contract between top management and the EWC, a joint analysis of experiences was to take place after two years. But this analysis was not conducted because of the announcement of the Daimler-Chrysler merger in May 1998. Because of the merger, those attempting to establish transnational employee representation were faced with a new challenge. Political activities were driven into new, unexplored territories, and the little-developed and largely untested structures for the transnational coordination of employee representation that had been developed in a European context could not simply be extended. The approval that the merger received from labour representatives on both sides of the Atlantic, given in unison with the general public resonance, was based on management assurances that this “Merger of Strength” would not be followed by either staff cutbacks or the elimination of locations, as long as a strict separation of brands was maintained. In the beginning these assurances made it easier for both works council and union representatives to interact with one another, but in the period that followed it was nevertheless necessary to begin establishing a better understanding of future structures and processes of transnational employee representation that might arise or prove necessary. This need for a better understanding of the procedures necessary for tuning organizational and procedural management and labour processes will become even more evident in the future. These processes are currently emerging, but still require clarification and binding decisions on the part of all participating actors. With regard to the “post-merger integration process” and its impact on employee representation, initial commitments have been made, but others have been left open. The legal establishment of Daimler-Chrysler as a public company according to German law (a decision most likely motivated by taxbenefit considerations) also implies the continuation of codetermination rights for the labour representatives on the supervisory board. From the perspective of a globally operating company, however, codetermination rights create new problems. According to German law, seven of ten employee representatives on the supervisory board must be employed in a German factory, meaning that representatives of Chrysler employees would be excluded from board meetings. The abandonment of one seat by the IG Metall union made possible the nomination of the president of the UAW, and thus the formal integration of a labour representative into the codetermination level of the Daimler-Chrysler group. This integration has been broadened through the formal inclusion of additional American and Canadian union representatives during preliminary discussions. The aim of this process is to establish operational information and communication structures, which are created by means of exchanges of members from the works council, IG Metall, UAW, and CAW within the scope of regularly held work shops. By means of direct and continuing contact these committees have

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so far helped limit information deficiencies and have fulfilled some of the prerequisites necessary for the establishment of a globally coordinated system of employee representation in the near future. These contacts could be institutionalized in the shape of a “Daimler-Chrysler International Work Shop”, made up of representatives from Germany, the US, Canada, Brazil, Mexico, Spain, and South Africa. Such an institutionalization of contacts, which in practice would lead to a World Works Council, is currently being pursued and provides for the inclusion of the EWC. Such an “international workshop” would make it easier to avoid double work structures, to concentrate activities on the car divisions and to broaden Daimler-Chrysler’s geographic presence. However, the suggested institutional structure has been rejected thus far by both the American and Canadian unions as well as top management. BMW BMW (Bayerische Motoren Werke), a car producer quite similar to MercedesBenz as regards product and market orientation, was also characterized by a limited degree of internationalized production until the beginning of the 1990s. In foreign markets BMW’s presence is limited to service and distribution locations, as well as a peripheral assembly plant in South Africa and an engine plant in Austria. With the opening of a new plant in the southern US in 1994 and the acquisition of Rover Group in the same year, accompanied by the build up of CKD plants in several non-European countries, a strategic reorientation is taking place: the inter nationalization of production is being coupled with the expansion of capacity and the extension of product range by which BMW is becoming a “full-range producer”. Whereas the number of BMW employees located in foreign countries was nothing to write about before this strategic re-orientation, at the end of the 1990s the number of foreign based employees amounted to 42 per cent of the workforce. The conversion of BMW from a “medium-sized enterprise in Upper Bavaria to a global concern”, as von Kuenheim, the longtime chairman of the supervisory board, put it (Manager-Magazin, April 1999, p. 86), also made BMW’s industrial relations actors more important, especially because of their role as co-managers in times of crisis. Both the German employee representatives on the company’s board of directors and the works council approved of BMW’s internationalization strategy. On the one hand, the labour representatives—in accordance with management—perceived BMW’s internationalization strategy as a sound strategic means of ensuring BMW’s independence and growth despite speculations about a possible take-over and increased international competition. On the other hand, the existing labour and compensation standards at the German locations were not threatened by increased internal competition, because of the specific premises and goals of the Spartanburg build-up as well as the Rover acquisition. BMW’s American branch is controlled and directed by German management, but ties between German and American employee representatives have not been established. Management has pursued and enforced a strict non-union strategy

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that has left the German works council without an American partner. In the case of Rover the situation is different, due to the specific structures and processes of employee representation that exist in Great Britain and Germany. The separation of the brand names and management of BMW and Rover for example, has allowed these two firms to retain distinct labour relations patterns at the firm and collective bargaining levels. This arrangement between BMW and Rover was well suited to the characteristics of industrial-relations systems in Great Britain and Germany as well as a variety of corporate traditions. Then, with the establishment of an EWC in the BMW group in Spring 1996, in accordance with EU guidelines, the different actors created a forum for the creation of corporate information policy by management and mutual information distribution by the national representatives. Eight German, six British, and one Austrian representative are members of the committee. The chairman of the German Combine Committee acts as the head chairman of the EWC, and the top officer of the labour union most strongly represented at Rover, and the works council chairman of the Austrian engine plant at Graz act as the deputy chairmen. Together these three chairmen make up the presidency. Through a regular exchange of experiences, assessments, and expectations during EWC committee and presidency meetings cooperative relations have been established that were initially unobstructed by acute decisions about investments and locations. But these relations turned out to be stable even in situations where massive reductions in production and employment had to be made. The declining competitiveness of the Rover group in the course of 1998, which was illustrated by dramatic setbacks in sales and profit, was intensified by the high exchange rate of the British pound. But Rover’s declining competitiveness was also the result of unsuccessful product policy, inefficient management structures and strategies, as well as a considerable productivity gap. The situation escalated in 1999 with the appointment of a new BMW management board and the changes in the management of the BMW-Rover relationship that resulted. But a tough reconstruction option which was forced by parts of management, and which would have probably resulted in the closure of the Longbridge plant (the original Rover headquarters), was not approved. Instead, the newly appointed board of directors is using a rescue scheme which is based on further cost reductions and increases in productivity. BMW hopes to ensure the achievement of these aims by taking over the planning, sales, and production divisions at Rover. According to the media, the members of the board of directors that developed this reconstruction scheme were chosen according to the voting patterns of the supervisory board’s employee representatives. Therefore they could utilize the common and desired accord of the shareholders regarding the appointment of board members. The securing of the Longbridge plant has become more likely because of the subsidies which were promised by the British government immediately after the board of directors reached its decisions regarding Rover. In addition, the securing of the Longbridge plant is supported by agreements made by British unions and Rover management in the autumn of 1998—agreements

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which were also approved in a referendum of all Rover employees. These agreements include provisions designed to make reductions in the work force more bearable and introduce far-reaching flexibility of work scheduling and workplace organization. These sorts of measures are common at BMW’s German locations. However, in a British context these measures look like “the most radical change in working practices ever in the UK” (Mitchell and Vaux 1999, p. 204). Woodley, the president of the British Transport and General Workers’ Union (TGWU) and vice-president of the EWC at BMW has emphasized the central role of the president of the EWC as a mediator in the Longbridge agreement. Woodley’s comment demonstrates the active role played by transnational labour representation. Although the decision centre is not located at the EWC due to its lack of institutionalized code termination rights, the practice of information and exchange between employee representatives of two companies under one roof nevertheless initiated and stabilized mutual clarification and communication processes during the development of the Longbridge agreement. These processes proved reliable in a critical situation in which parts of management were willing to enforce a rescue programme at the expense of a foreign location and its employees. The importance of the effective assistance of the German employee representatives on the supervisory board can not be taken for granted. Nor is the importance of the assistance which the German employee representatives provided diminished by their calculation that reducing the BMW group to a mere niche producer would increase the danger of a hostile takeover and, in the medium or long term, would endanger the labour and employment standards of locations within Germany. Nevertheless, the future remains uncertain: it is still unclear if reconstruction efforts at Rover will be successful or whether the independence of BMW as a globally operating company can be sustained in the long run. The future is even more uncertain after the sale of Rover in Spring 2000. Established forms of communication and cooperation between the workers’ representatives of BMW and Rover did not include the power of veto over the management decision. Nevertheless, the final decision to sell Rover to the Phoenix Consortium and not to venture capital company Alchemy was in some degree shaped and influenced by contacts and pressure carried through union and EU channels.

Transnationalization of employee representation in the chemical industry Even more so than with the automobile industry, the traditional business strategy of Germany’s chemical and pharmaceutical industry is globally oriented. It is therefore one of the core industries of “Modell Deutschland”, or “export-oriented Germany”. In fact, the structural characteristics (patterns of employment and location) of the larger German chemical and pharmaceutical corporations are more distinctly international than those of the corporations that

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make up Germany’s automobile industry. In particular, the “big three” of the German chemical industry, whose outstanding political and economic clout played a decisive role in the development of industrial relations in this sector, had already grown into veritable multinational enterprises in the 1960s. It is hardly surprising, then, that efforts to strengthen the European level of employee representation took place in this industry early on. But sector characteristics as well as specific corporate strategies influenced the course and characteristics of transnational efforts to provide for the safeguarding of interests and coordination in a very different way. If one considers the foundation dates of the first employee representation arrangements to be reached on a European level, the German chemical and pharmaceutical industry belongs to the group of forerunners. In 1990 and 1991 respectively (i.e., long before the passing of the EU guideline) Hoechst and Bayer came up with the first employee representation agreements. In light of both companies’ international profile the reaching of these agreements was inevitable: in the early 1990s only about half of both companies’ employees worked at German locations, and about 20 per cent of both companies’ employees were employed in other Western European countries. Even more significant is that already in the early 1980s the two companies in particular reported employment figures not for Germany alone but for the whole of Western Europe. The reason for these developments was that business and location policy could no longer be operated by reference to a national agenda, but only according to a continental perspective. However, the initial impulse to build up transnational committees did not emerge because of specific problems or ambitions on the part of employees or management at company level. Instead, the initial impulse came from the labour union (IG CPK—today IG BCE) and was motivated, first and foremost, by union politics. The IG CPK had at last been able to compensate for a notorious lack of bargaining power by a strategy of political exchange, offering its political support to the industry in environmental and other regulatory affairs. With more and more regulatory competence being transferred from the national to the European level, the terms of trade within this arrangement would obviously get worse. Therefore the union made great efforts to strengthen its organizational presence at a European level (see Kädtler and Hertle 1997, chapter 8). The most tangible result of these attempts, however, occurred on a national level and resulted in an agreement between the IG CPK and the German Chemical Employers Association (BAVC) to build European committees to provide for the distribution of information to employees. This agreement was motivated by both sides’ declared aim of extending their very close partnership to the European level—and, it must be said, to prevent other guidelines from Brussels from getting in the way. The agreement, which excluded consultation rights and codetermination rights, fell far short of original union demands; it also gave employers considerable influence regarding topics, agenda and the selection of those subsidiaries that should be included. Nonetheless, the agreement laid the foundations for the IG CPK to speed up the formation of corresponding committees—initially limited to 20 codetermined corporations, among them the

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“big three”, who are traditionally the forerunners and core companies in the IG CPK’s sphere of action. Soon after completion of the agreement on social partnership between the employers and employee associations, the first European consultation committees were established at Bayer and Hoechst. At Hoechst, the formation of such a committee was suggested as a pilot project by the union, at Bayer the formation of a consultation committee was pursued by top management. The difficulties that were encountered in the course of practical implementation of the agreements, such as the problem of identifying the European subsidiaries as well as contacts (see Jäger 1991), amply document the fact that existing contacts were not improved, but that—at best—an opportunity to make contacts in the first place was established. Bayer There is a good deal of consensus that the Euroforum, established in 1991 and updated in 1994 in accordance with the EU guideline, improved previously cumbersome employee representation structures in a number of Bayer’s subsidiaries. By means of the Euroforum agreements both employers and employees hoped to transfer social partnership to their foreign ventures. The Euroforum agreements also met the needs of managers who had explicitly initiated the foundation of a—in this case—joint committee to forestall the construction of agreements written according to EU-guidelines. The committee’s efficacy, however, was based neither on attempts by the concern to influence subsidiaries, nor on concerted action by employee representatives. Obviously more important is the subjective upgrading and the improved reputation of those representatives from foreign countries who usually have to deal with very authoritarian and patriarchal corporate social relations: at least yearly they meet with the board of directors and can pose questions regarding critical issues. In principle, the influence of the Euroforum on the culture of employee representation in individual countries, however difficult to evaluate in detail, is indubitable. But its domestic success contrasts with rather mixed results on the transnational level. On the one hand, employee representatives have taken steps to intensify the continuous flow of information, particularly from the German committee on corporate performance (Wirtschaftsausschuss). The structures at the Euroforum have also been extended so that special workshops can be convened at which representatives of foreign ventures can present “European” problems that they face. But the benefits of the intensification procedures are placed in doubt by hard evidence that this level of information exchange is only a weak binding force, particularly as far as German works council members are concerned. To demonstrate the appropriateness of a location agreement which is highly controversial among the workforce, the works council and the union used to refer to a plant which was recently set up at a German location. This success, however, was the result of the fact that another European location had been outmanoeuvred. The setting up of this plant was not—and this is important—the

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result of typical competition between different European locations in the normal course of the decision-making process. In fact, a decision in favour of another location had already been made, but the German works council reversed it by directly intervening with the Board of Directors without having ever contacted foreign partners. However, as long as the dominant employee-elected representation at the Bayer group can fall back on its direct line to the headquarters when their own interests are threatened, and as long as it favours the marginalization of other locations, the personal relations between the representatives must be considered non-binding, and the chances for transnational interest management will remain very low. Hoechst The developments at Hoechst deserve special attention. First of all, Hoechst was one of the first corporations to establish a European employee committee. Secondly, cross-border European interests have played an important role at Hoechst since the end of the 1980s when its pharmaceutical branch merged with the French drug company Uclaf Roussel. Finally, the reconstruction of Hoechst since the mid–1990s has become a transnational corporate project “par excellence”. This is particularly true of Hoechst’s pharmaceutical branch, where a new transnational drug company was formed by combining the Hoechst capacities with Uclaf Roussel, and the US pharmaceutical company Marion Merrell Dow (MMD). In the course of this fusion, a strategy of transnational restructuring has been vigorously enforced. (We have not taken the coming merger with Rhône-Poulenc into account, after which Hoechst’s present headquarters will lose its role as the central and most important location.) Because of the global pharmaceuticals management’s decision to reduce costs and personnel at locations in Germany and France, a European employment representation committee was not created. This despite the fact that Hoechst was among the first in the field of employee representation. These developments led to the most severe confrontations ever in the company’s history. The transformation of the corporation into an industrial holding, the selling of some branches, and the decision by the works councils to establish their own EWC’s led to the dissolution of the old committee. Neither on the level of the remaining holding, nor for its core company, the transnational pharmaceuticals company Hoechst Marion Roussel (HMR), a new EWC was established. The reason for these developments, in the view of the former head of the EWC and today’s chairman of HMR’s works council, was that the abundance of duties related to the restructuring process occupied too much time. As soon as the situation had become less fluid he would work at establishing an EWC. To put it differently, during the course of merging the single German, French, and American companies—a process that had strong effects on employees at all locations and in unforeseeable ways—into a globally organized pharmaceuticals company, the reestablishment of an EWC was only of minor importance, and would probably have been disruptive. Except for a demonstrative and early appearance of the

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German works council chairman at a French protest meeting, no further coordination between the affected German and French locations took place. In both cases, Bayer and Hoechst, the early establishment of European information committees did not lead to the establishment of relationships between employee representatives that could be described as intensive or trusting, or which could have formed the basis for cooperative coordination in situations affected by interest conflicts. An important reason for this failure is that the structures of the major German combined committees in these companies are based on principles which can not be easily adapted to create a board designed to facilitate transnational interest coordination. The decision to tie the European level of representation to that of the dominant national committee does not, as in other cases, improve the quality of representation, but reduces it. Corporate bargaining processes are highly exclusive, even in a national context. The influence of the powerful works council chairmen, especially those from the respective headquarters, is based on their personal and direct access to the Board of Directors. Influential works council chairmen also have the ability to maintain a balance of interest within a small circle of leading employee representatives and top managers and can effectively enforce the decisions made within these circles. This sort of corporate-centred policy-making can produce remarkable results for a certain clientele as long as the individual characteristics of the given corporation are taken into account. To a certain degree one can often speak of “Hausmacht”: i.e., a specific source of power available to those working at a company’s headquarters. But “Hausmacht” is often indirect in nature. Moreover, other independent processes of interest formulation and articulation—whether taking place within a union or within a corporate framework—have rather negative effects on, or are a source of irritation to, those whose influential positions are based on “Hausmacht”. Independent processes of interest formulation and articulation cannot be brought into play without negative consequences. Accordingly, for decades employee representatives used their positions of power within the unions to maintain a low degree of union influence on the works councils. In the words of a full-time union official, the employee representatives “were indeed fellow members. But we were only there on sufferance.” Consequently, union membership density is low, and the capacity of the union to mobilize is equally limited. Historically, the weak position of the union on the works councils did not mean that the union did not utilize its position to achieve its goals. But the union did establish definitive priorities. For example, only those activities were possible which did not interfere with the systems of cooperation existing between toplevel corporate managers. As long as top-level cooperation is maintained, employee representation on a European level is not a feasible strategic option available to the works councils, it is an issue of marginal importance. In fact, it is likely that core representatives have a stake in the preservation of top-level patterns of cooperation, since top management is increasingly unwilling to make concessions. In this situation, and in light of the weak position occupied by the unions, a more conflict-oriented representation policy would lead to significantly

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poorer results. But, in a situation in which the ability to formulate and determine interests is the main precondition for establishing a position of power, even on a national level, the level of access available to the representatives of foreign locations is precluded in principle. Representatives from foreign locations and subsidiaries have better, but indirect, access “at court”. Only by means of personal contact with top members of the works council, representatives of foreign locations also get the chance to appeal to influential advocates at the centre of power when domestic problems arise. BASF Against this background, the future development of the “European dialogue” at BASF, which is one of the traditional German chemical giants, is of particular interest. At BASF a committee was not established until 1995, after the passing of the EU guideline, and, here too, the basis for its formation was a German combined plant agreement. But in BASF’s case, an agreement was signed only after extensive processes of consultation and coordination with the employee representatives of other European locations. One reason for the comparatively late foundation of the committee, the head of the works council has explained, was that he did not want to make a contract simply for the sake of having a contract. In addition, the concessions that top management were willing to grant within the framework of the “Agreement on Social Partnership” were not considered sufficient. As the (ultimately successful) negotiations neared their end, the head of the works council made it clear that, in the event that an agreement could not be reached, he would be willing to risk the introduction of formal and very expensive procedures as described in the EU guideline. Many feel that one very positive result of this strategy was that it led to a round of debriefing (in addition to the common preliminary talks) at the expense of the employer. The joint discussion held after the management reports proved to be an even more important means of preliminary coordination. The departure from the pattern which was the basis for the establishment of the European committees in the two other cases, demonstrates the individual characteristics and the individual nature of national representation constellations. As in the other cases, a small circle of top officials from the works council and representatives from top management established the most important arena for negotiations. The key figure was the chairman of the works council, with his direct line to the top. But, unlike the other cases, the actors must also take into account the actions of BASF’s politically active workforce. This workforce’s readiness to be mobilized is the result of a high union membership density and a very broadly based infrastructure designed to provide employee representation. In the 1990s BASF employees dramatically demonstrated their readiness to carry out mass protest campaigns against the group’s leadership. But it must also be pointed out that the political activity of BASF employees is not an encroachment on BASF’s well-established structure of representative politics, but a clear expression of approval for it.

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This strategy of conflict and cooperation (“Konfliktpartnerschaft”) in which the basic willingness of all participants to cooperate is tied to and based on independent sources of power, will also determine the nature of the Eurodialogue, at first on a formal and then on an organizational level. To what extent such developments can be substantially supported remains to be seen.

Conclusion Despite the differences between the company cases presented here, they show how a logic of transnational representation can emerge and become stable. By establishing and utilizing procedures of information distribution, coordination and bargaining, employee representatives can increase their ability to influence corporate policy. As efforts are made to establish forms of transnational representation, tendencies towards homogeneity and convergence are not likely. Rather, heterogeneous constellations and processes, so long as they do not obstruct dynamic development, will continue to be the norm. The objectives and directions of these processes of change will not lead to the emergence of stringent frameworks for action and regulation that exist footloose in transnational space and detached from national conditions or characteristics. On the contrary, the embeddedness of labour relations in a national context allows actors enough leeway to engage in cross-border activities. These cross-border activities are based, for example, on the use of well-established domestic practices in order to initiate new processes of information distribution and exchange. As some cases demonstrate, systems of cross-border cooperation cannot be achieved when a home advantage is used to insulate and marginalize the interests of foreign locations. The fact that transnationalization is fraught with a high degree of uncertainty for both management and employee representatives, may complicate decisionmaking, since the consequences of transnationalization can not be foreseen. On the other hand, if one looks at efforts to improve transnational employee representation as processes of trial and error, then transnationalization provides actors with the opportunity to make decisions which can be reversed if necessary, but which can also produce firm ground if both sides benefit from the structures and practices developed. It is not transnationalization per se that actors must be wary of. What is most important is that employee representatives develop new procedures in order to solve problems differently and more efficiently. At present, it would be premature to talk of a general trend, at least as regards unambiguous paths of development. However, this is also true for the negative scenario, which takes an inescapable loss of influence for granted. The empirical evidence demonstrates that the decline and disintegration of structures of representation as a result of globalization are borderline cases which occur alongside a wide range of developments. These developments differ depending on the economic conditions within sectors as well as the existing structures of representation and their social embeddedness. The uncertainty that

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management has to deal with when formulating and realizing globalization strategies, is closely related to the necessity of developing or creating complex social frame-works of action. During the creation of a framework for organizational learning the actors of industrial relations are not just objects, but play an active role. At the moment, our formulations are cautious and our results preliminary. The evidence indicates, however, that during the global rearrangement of enterprises, new constellations emerge and gain importance. It is often assumed that processes of globalization will inevitably lead to the decline of groups which seek to regulate work structures and social standards. But the new constellations that we have discussed may transform existing bargaining structures and practices, thus counteracting the predicted decline of these groups. Note 1

The article draws on preliminary results of a research project “Globalization and Industrial Relations—The effects of transnational corporate activity on bargaining and regulation systems in the German Federal Republic”, which is funded by the German Association for Scientific Research (DFG) at the University of Göttingen.

Bibliography Büchtemann, C.F. and W.Kuhlmann, 1996: “Internationalisierungsstrategien deutscher Unternehmen: Am Beispiel von Mercedes-Benz”. In: P.Meil (ed.), Globalisierung industrieller Produktion. Frankfurt/New York: Campus, pp. 57–99 Eller-Braatz, E. and T.Klebe, 1998: “Benchmarking in der Automobilindustrie”. In: WSIMitteilungen, vol. 51, pp. 442–450 Hancké, B., 1998: Industrial Restructuring and Industrial Relations in the European Car Industry. Berlin: Wissenschaftszentrum Hübner, K., 1998: Der Globalisierungskomplex. Berlin: Sigma Jäger, R., 1991: “Erste Schritte zur Europäisierung der Interessenvertretung in der chemischen Industrie”. In: Die Mitbestimmung, vol. 37, pp. 245–247 Kädtler, J. and H.H.Hertle, 1997: Sozialpartnerschaft und Industriepolitik. Opladen: Westdeutscher Verlag Lecher, W, B.Nagel and H.-W.Platzer, 1998: Die Konstituierung Europä Betriebsräte: Vom Informationsforum zum Akteur. Baden-Baden: Nomos Mitchell, C. and P.Vaux, 1999: “The birth of Hams Hall: Fundamental change in the UK”. In: Produktion und Arbeitspolitik. Baden-Baden: Forum Automobilindustrie, pp. 199–218

9 Co-ordination and control in transnational business and non-profit organizations Jörg Flecker and Ruth Simsa

Introduction During the 1990s many transnational organizations have achieved important changes in their strategies and structures. Turbulent transformations of the economic and political world system have brought both new opportunities for, and necessary adaptations from, transnationally active organizations. At the same time, changes in the importance and character of national and local environments have partly increased and partly decreased pressure for responsiveness from large-scale organizations. Finally, the mode of articulation between these different levels has been altered by the economic and political integration of world regions through organizations such as the European Union, or through the development of new regimes of international polity. As a general tendency, we can observe the eroding of boundaries, enhanced interdependencies, and a greater variety of options (Steger 1998), both within organizations and in relations between organizations and their environments. Against this background it becomes obvious that, apart from cross-border migration, transnational organizations are the prime field for the study of emerging “transnational social spaces”: i.e. social interconnections and communities which are no longer coterminous with national or regional states. By constituting dense institutional frameworks composed of artifacts, social practices and symbolic representations, transnational organizations form plurilocally integrated communities (Pries 1998). The most important factors shaping social spaces in transnational organizations, and the most important preconditions for their emergence, are structures and strategies of control and coordination. These structures and strategies determine the degree and quality of interconnectedness between individual and collective actors, and mould the social integration of an organization’s members. In this chapter we will consider different modes of co-ordination and control in transnational organizations. Our focus is on the tension between shared organizational strategies and goals, on the one hand, and the need for local autonomy, on the other. This is why issues such as centralization versus decentralization, or homogeneity versus diversity, are of particular interest. In dealing with coordination and control we hope to contribute to the analysis of 164

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“transnational social spaces” that develop within, or are fostered by, the activities of transnational organizations. The focus is on both non-profit organizations and business enterprises for a variety of reasons. First of all, we expected that studying different types of organizations would help clarify the particularities of transnational organizations. When studying transnational co-ordination and control, for example, one might attribute certain phenomena to the transnational character of an organization, although these phenomena might be the result of the organization’s size, structure or task. By comparing various types of organization we hoped to identify the phenomena that transnational organizations have in common. Secondly, comparing a variety of transnational organizations helped us elicit the more telling characteristics of these organizations. Thirdly, research on business organizations, on the one hand, and non-profits, on the other, is carried out by rather separate communities; integrating studies of transnational businesses and non-profits could benefit our knowledge and understanding of both types of transnational organization. The chapter is based on literature reviews and on our own research projects. Illustrative information is integrated from semi-structured interviews with managers of four transnational organizations which form part of ongoing research on transnational management and industrial relations. Balancing global and local: elements of co-ordination and control in transnational organizations In the context of the current trend towards increased international connections and interdependencies, sociology has experienced something of a paradigm shift. The hitherto unquestioned assumption that social and national borders conform to one another, the so-called territorial bias, has been strongly challenged by globalization. Consequently, the territorial dimensions of social phenomena have had to be reconsidered, and the relationships between global and local phenomena have become an important issue in the sociological discussion. To put it crudely, there are two contradictory theses. One is that the homogenization of society is a consequence of hegemonic global trends fostered in particular by world markets and their tendencies towards uniformity and global rationalization (e.g. McDonaldization, see Ritzer 1993). The second questions the assumption that a convergence of cultures is taking place and stresses the dialectic nature of the globalization process. To view global and local phenomena as two parts of a simple polarity, in which either global forces act upon localities or localities resist the predominance of global forces, is considered a simplification. It has been argued, for example, that the thesis of increased global homogeneity does not take into account the complexity of the relationship between localities and the forces of globalization. Many feel that globalization is actually a mutual and cooperative process in which both localities and global forces play an important role (Robertson 1992 and 1998; Albrow and King 1990).

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The analysis of transnational organizations is a complex endeavour. Underlying and within the systems upon which transnational organizations are built there are polarities that arise from conflicts between, on the one hand, trends towards global rationalization, homogeneity, and centralization, and, on the other, efforts to maintain local specialization, variety, and decentralized structures. The strategies of transnational organizations usually fall between the two polar extremes that result from such conflicts. Phase models and typologies of the structural characteristics of transnational organizations usually take this fact as their starting point, as is demonstrated by the influential study from Bartlett and Ghoshal (1993) in which “multinational”, “transnational” and “global” companies are defined and distinguished from one another. The fact that transnational companies tend to be neither purely centralized nor purely decentralized is a starting point for Perlmutter’s (1969) study, which distinguishes between “ethnocentric” and “geocentric” companies. Typologies of transnational companies are useful as long as the strategies of these companies are regarded or described not simply as points on a continuum between homogeneity and variety, but rather as complex and intricate products of various intertwining elements. However, it is difficult to relate empirical cases to ideal types. Studies of Daimler-Benz (Büchtemann and Kuhlmann 1996) and Asea Brown Boveri did demonstrate that different sectors of transnational companies exhibit different forms of internationalization. Another shortcoming is that, although typologies do not necessarily suggest a historical tendency towards one type of organization, in practice such a teleological bias often influences the debate. Quite obviously, the “global” type of organization has been associated with the era of “globalization”, and “globalization” in turn has been characterized by the spread of “global” organizational forms. In view of these problems our aim in this chapter is not to engage in a debate on the classifications or typologies of transnational organizations. For our purpose it is more useful to focus on the elements of co-ordination and control that can be found in a great variety of combinations in real world organizations. In describing different elements of co-ordination and control we take as a starting point the distinction between the following core elements of co-ordination and control within large-scale organizations: hierarchical or bureaucratic elements, quasi-market elements, and normative elements. These distinctions are partly in line with Etzioni’s (1961) classification of coercive, utilitarian, and normative organizational control. In a summary of analytical concepts, and for the purpose of analysing the diffusion of organizational change within transnational enterprises, Ferner and Edwards (1995) also distinguish between different modes of influence: authority relations, resource-dependent power relations, exchange relations and cultural relations. In the following sections we will use such terminology (though not exclusively) when considering the more general aspects of the empirically important elements of co-ordination and control: Authority brings formal control over resources and decision-making including the right to allocate investment funds, or to impose sanctions on

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under-performing units—according to clearly understood organizational rules. Authority relations are normally reflected in the formalisation of practices in the shape of sets of routines, standard operating procedures and general guidelines, rules and policies. (Ferner and Edwards 1995, p. 232) Hierarchy and formalization are the key elements of “direct control” management styles, which are characterized by the direct involvement of superiors in decision-making and the surveillance of sub-units. But hierarchy and formalization are also the key elements of “indirect budgetary control” styles of management, which lay stress, among other things, on target-setting and performance monitoring (see Flecker and Schienstock 1994; Hirsch-Kreinsen 1998). Targets are set in a unilateral or a negotiated way, depending on the degree of input sub-units are allowed, and success is measured by analysing sales numbers, and measurements of efficiency, profit and other such indicators. A variety of indicators are used to monitor the economic performance of the company’s sub-units and measure output, technical efficiency or overall results in order to “subject the sub-units to systematic appraisal for their contributions to the business as a whole” (Smith and Elger 1997, p. 284). Co-ordination and control in organizations is not determined by authority relations alone, since actual distributions of power may differ from formally established structures of authority. In the case of resource-dependent power relations all “zones of uncertainty” (Crozier and Friedberg 1979) are potential sources of power for those who control them. Power relations therefore do not coincide with authority relations, even though formal authority is the most important source of power in organizations. A better understanding of “micro-politics” within organizations will therefore not only improve our understanding of authority relations, but will also allow us to analyse processes of organizational co-ordination that come into being as a result of “power games” (ibid.). In decentralized companies co-ordination is frequently based on contractual relationships or, more generally, exchange relations between sub-units. For example, sub-units are free to decide whether they will hire work out to other units within the company itself or turn to units outside the company for help. In such an organizational setting, hierarchical co-ordination is partially replaced by the direct horizontal co-ordination of transaction networks. In decentralized organizations communicative co-ordination is also said to assume increased importance, in particular in the form of direct horizontal communication (see, e.g., Hirsch-Kreinsen 1998). Conferences, meetings, and telephone, intranet and e-mail communications make the implementation of the plans and activities of spatially dispersed units possible and allow for mutual learning processes. Cultural relations are composed of taken-for-granted assumptions about an organization, the social relations within the organization, and the actors’ perceptions of their own interests and those of the corporation (Ferner and Edwards 1995, pp. 233f.). Cultural relations also facilitate the management of meaning, by which the legitimacy of actions, ideas and demands (ibid.) is

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established. Company-wide mission statements, and the procedures to set these up, influence the orientations of an organization’s members. Company-wide mission statements are also designed to give guidance in ambiguous situations where clear rules are not available and hierarchical decisions are not being made. In addition, the different areas of human resource management, such as recruitment, training, appraisal, placement, etc., are used as a means of influencing perceptions and orientations, and hence the corporate culture (Townley 1991). We have already alluded to the fact that we can expect to find a variety of elements of co-ordination and control within every organization. Research findings suggest that modes of control differ amongst the functional areas of a firm. It is thus typical to find a high degree of centralization in units concerned with financial matters and a low degree of centralization in units concerned with personnel management (see, e.g., Coller 1996, p. 154). It goes without saying that organizational structures are shaped by production processes and product markets or, in the case of non-profit organizations, “issues”. But organizational structures are also shaped by organizational “trajectories” and the legacies of past power struggles. Hence, the combination of elements of coordination and control differs not only between organizations but also within organizations. Shifts in control and co-ordination of international business organizations This part is about forms of co-ordination and control within transnational companies. Of course it is not possible to summarize the vast and growing body of analytical work and empirical evidence related to this theme. Rather, we want to focus on the relative importance of different elements of co-ordination and control and their consequences for the character and the degree of social integration within a company. Cultural relations and communicative co-ordination Authors of management literature often see normative integration or “culture” as a solution to problems of co-ordination and control in complex organizations or inter-firm networks: “‘culture’ has been presented as a form of ‘corporate glue’ binding the organization together through sets of taken-for-granted assumptions about the enterprise and its way of doing things” (Ferner and Edwards 1995, p. 240). The example of Daimler-Benz shows that the globalization of corporate activities and the decentralization of decision-making leads to new challenges for head offices in the management of (cultural) diversity. Transnational companies have to employ more international managerial personnel with knowledge of, and experience in, foreign countries, in order to be able to co-operate with much more autonomous sub-units and react flexibly to changes in global market conditions (Büchtemann and Kuhlmann 1996, p. 97; for a different conclusion, see Kotthoff in this volume). Consequently, the globalization strategy of

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Mercedes-Benz is supported by a special programme for the training of international managers (Pries 1997). On the other hand, we still find ethnocentric approaches to corporate culture. So-called expatriate managers often transfer to subsidiaries in other countries organizational culture and managerial styles that they have internalized as workers in the parent company. The use of expatriates was an important aspect not only in the management of Japanese “transplants” in North America and Europe (Ferner and Edwards 1995, p. 241; Buhr 1998, pp. 32f.) but may also be characteristic of many direct investments in transformation economies in Central and Eastern Europe (see Rudolph and Hillmann 1998). There is evidence that it is not only US-American centres but also those of Asian and German transnational companies that seek to impose their cultural stamp on their subsidiaries abroad. There is a widespread tendency towards the deliberate limitation of local cultural orientations. This means that the ethnocentric approach to the establishment of organizational culture is still prevalent (Buhr 1998, p. 38). In an interview, the Human Resource Director for the Central and Eastern European branch of a large transnational corporation told us that it deliberately alters the behavioural relations between superiors and subordinates in its Russian subsidiary. It is not prepared to wait until the traditional attitudes towards authority are weakened over time. According to Rudolph and Hillmann (1998), the main task of expatriate managers in the Baltic countries is transferring, along with technical know-how, a “customercentred organizational culture” and stimulating “positive attitudes towards work” amongst local colleagues (ibid., p. 50). The diffusion of so-called matrix or virtual forms of organization leads to dense interconnections between individuals and groups formally belonging to separate corporate entities. In an interview, the manager of a global corporation explained to us: We are working more and more at a pan-European level, which means that the manager for a particular area may well be located in a different country and may be in charge of several countries. The decision on what is sold at what price has to be made within what we call the virtual organization. And there are people here that report to me but who are not working for this country at all. Rather their job is to participate in projects in other countries or in cross-border task forces. This is increasingly fostered because it does not make sense to have a specialist for this and that in every country. Service and competence centres are increasingly organised at a pan-European level—apart from pan-European outsourcing. Decentralized organizations in particular, tend to strengthen direct communicative co-ordination. Hirsch-Kreinsen (1998) describes these “communication processes” between managers and their regional and functional superiors, and between managers of different—and competing—sub-units as follows: “It is the more or less explicit aim to reach a management decision by

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consensus of all those involved” (p. 47). Reaching a consensus often implies timeconsuming bargaining processes that are aimed at reconciling the interests of individual sub-units with corporate goals. Hirsch-Kreinsen argues that failure to reach consensus cannot be ruled out. In this case, the senior management ensures that a decision is made. But if such a situation occurs more than twice, the managers are replaced (ibid., p. 48). Although communicative co-ordination can be seen as a distinct type of organizational integration, it is closely related to authority structures. With reference to a situation that occurred at Asea Brown Boveri, Ferner and Edwards argue that: the creation of the task force and the definition of its role were the result of the intervention of a higher-tier manager rather than of ‘spontaneous’ generation. Such groups could therefore be seen as an element in a sort of ‘democratized’ authority structure, in which lower levels have more of a contribution to policy development, and consequently more of a stake in its successful implementation. (Ferner and Edwards 1995: pp. 239f.). In addition, and as the example mentioned above clearly indicates, communicative co-ordination takes place in the shadow of authority relations. Hierarchical control structures and reporting systems form a tight framework for communicative activities in task forces, management meetings or intranet applications. More generally we would argue that strengthened cultural relations and intensified communicative co-ordination within transnational corporations should not lead us to underestimate the importance of other more traditional elements of coordination such as authority relations. Authority relations In the debates on the organizational structures of international companies there has been agreement that there is a tendency towards decentralization and, generally speaking, the diminishing importance of bureaucratic elements of control. Coordination and control based on authority relations and exerted through the channels of corporate hierarchy became increasingly disadvantageous for transnational companies because of the growing complexity of cross-border organizations and the resulting uncertainties faced by head offices. Apart from being costly, bureaucratic elements such as centralization and formalization turn out to be ineffective. For example, they restrict the room for manoeuvre available to local management, thereby smothering their commitment and their ability to adapt to local contingencies. Even in the 1960s Perlmutter (1969) described decentralized confederations, which allow for the far-reaching autonomy of individual subsidiaries, that emerged as a consequence of ineffective and costly bureaucratic elements. Of course, it became the dominant view, both in managerial and in scholarly debates, that heterarchy replaced hierarchy (Hedlund 1986), local autonomy

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replaced centralized decision-making, and output control replaced rules and process formalization. But it would be a mistake to treat hierarchy and formalization as obsolete forms of co-ordination and control. Rather, they remain important frames of action even within companies that have to adapt to a variety of local environments. Nohria and Ghoshal (1991, quoted by Coller 1996) pointed out that, in order to meet strong pressures from both local and global environments, companies opt for an “integrated variety” model of management that combines the autonomy of local management with general integrative systems. Apart from normative integration, general integrative systems consist of “rule and process formalization”. Recently, case-study evidence has indicated that companies are reversing some of the steps they made towards decentralized corporate structures. It is quite interesting in this context that the exemplary decentralized “multidomestic” company (see Bartlett and Ghoshal 1993), Asea Brown Boveri (ABB), has strengthened central functions and integrated previously separate units in order to overcome co-ordination problems (Hirsch-Kreinsen 1998). Even if “recentralization” is not a general tendency, it is becoming clear that hierarchy combined with other elements remains the most important principle of organizational control. Indirect hierarchical control by way of target-setting and performance monitoring implies that decision-making on operative issues has devolved to the management of sub-units. Direct control is weakened. However, authority is strengthened by the application in complex organizations of practices termed “comparative control” or “coercive comparison”, which are used to monitor and compare the performance of sub-units Mueller 1996). The information gathered by means of “comparative control” and “coercive comparison” is in turn used as the basis for investment decisions. The data on the sales figures, profitability, and cost structures, etc., of every sub-unit are available in a corporate information system. This data is not only used by the head office for surveillance purposes, it is also, perhaps more importantly, used as a basis for self-monitoring amongst the managers of sub-units, who are in a position to compare their performance with the performances of others on a monthly basis (Hirsch-Kreinsen 1998, p. 46). Owing to differences in products or processes and dissimilar conditions in local environments, the indicators of different sub-units are usually not directly comparable. However, this does not hinder the application of the procedure. As a manager of a world-wide corporation explained in an interview: Positive competition always creates incentives, and you do not forget that performance is not absolutely comparable. You simply have to set targets, and people have to try hard to meet them—and as a result of the comparison they will try harder. If you accept that things are not comparable, everybody will look for reasons why his or her situation is different. Everybody only finds the downside arguments and not the upside arguments. That is why I say I do not care. More and more we use pan-European bottom-lines to communicate that this is one single business.

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Another characteristic of authority relations is that the technological or organizational features of sub-units are influenced by the centre. One method of influencing sub-units is the dissemination of “best proven practice” (see Mueller 1996). But “best proven practice” is not necessarily developed by the centre; local developments can also be acknowledged as the “best proven practice”, in which case other sub-units must adapt accordingly. Research on the automobile industry has revealed that, in the process of determining which practices are most favourable, subsidiaries may assume the role of “experimental plants” and thereby enjoy a certain degree of autonomy. These new “innovation laboratories of Production Configuration and Concepts” differ explicitly from company traditions as well as from local idiosyncrasies. Based on new social and contextual power relations in the places of new or renewed location, these plants are able to define and design a great number of configuration variables. At the same time, the company headquarters offers a new type of “temporary autonomy” to the new experimental plants to develop new solutions. (Pries 1997, p. 16; see also Mueller 1996 and Dörre 1996) It is quite obvious that the step from behaviour or process control to output control has important consequences, yet the number of limitations that the head office faces in negotiating targets and assessing performance may remain constant or even increase. With the establishment of contractual relationships within organizations and the establishment of competition between sub-units, companies further transform authority relations. The “internalization of competition” (Cowling and Sugden 1987, quoted in Mueller 1996, p. 349) is said to replace traditional models of hierarchy. The argument is that, in order to achieve rationalization goals, companies introduce principles of internal competition: i.e. they make sub-units compete for orders and investment. In this process the managers and workers of plants are forced to rationalise their operations by reducing the number of employees, lowering wage levels, increasing flexibility, etc., in order to reach the performance levels of other plants or to outperform them. One of the most important innovations in large-scale organizations was the implementation of quasi-markets within the corporation. Contractual relationships (customer-supplier relations) between sub-units for example, have been widely established to co-ordinate complex processes of production and service provision. While internal competition and market-like relations strongly enhance an organization’s ability to co-ordinate complex interrelationships, they also have considerable drawbacks. Managers of sub-units may focus on their immediate interests and on the performance indicators of the unit, and may thus neglect overall corporate goals, obstruct synergy and refuse to join corporate alteration programmes (Hirsch-Kreinsen 1998, pp. 5If). In sum, the overview provided above demonstrates that there is a multiplicity of co-ordination and control elements, and there may be considerable tensions

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between them. For example, the internalization of competition makes establishing cultural relations and communicative co-ordination more difficult. We would argue that the “systemic” (authority and quasi-market) forms of co-ordination and control have grown stricter, partially through the application of the principle of shareholder value. This affects not only those made responsible for meeting targets but also the rank-and-file employees, who become more and more dependent on the relative performance of the sub-unit they belong to. At the same time, managers of transnational companies are subject to strategies of cultural inclusion and are engaged in intensified communicative co-ordination activities. One of the consequences of these trends is a deeper gulf between management and local workforces. Though targeted in company principles or mission statements, local workforces are usually not included in transnational communities, even though they are significantly affected by corporate strategies and international competition between an organization’s sub-units. In this context it might be useful to consider Lockwood’s demand, made in the 1960s, that we analyse social change not only with reference to social integration (i.e. the relations between actors) but also with reference to system integration (i.e. considering the relations between parts of a system). What we have observed, although it has not been systematically analysed so far, is an ongoing and “systemic” process that destroys high-trust relations within the local establishments of transnational companies. There is a need to investigate whether the emergence of transnational communities of corporate managers fuels this tendency, by making it easier for those carrying out corporate strategies to detach themselves from the (local) consequences of their decisions. Co-ordination and control in transnational non-profit organizations Globalization debates often focus on the world market and the influence of profitoriented organizations, whereas non-profit organizations are often disregarded. Actually, the management of international non-profit organizations (NPOs) has not yet been given much attention. In this part of our chapter we want to stress two points. First of all, that non-profit organizations are important transnational actors out of which transnational social spaces emerge. Secondly, that non-profit organizations have specific features which influence the characteristics of coordination and control strategies and the transnational social spaces within these transnational organizations. Non-profit organizations have to be considered as international actors. Many of the problems they address, as well as many of the NPOs themselves, are multinational. Global warming or the nuclear threat are transnational phenomena, as is the world market and its influence upon the underdevelopment of certain areas. Humanitarian efforts to provide social aid or to further human rights do not stop at national borders. Non-profit organizations that work on “borderless” issues, large advocacy organizations, environmental and developmental organizations, in particular, must therefore engage in a large amount of international work (Keck and Sikkink 1998; Princen and Finger 1994). The

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activities of human-rights organizations, for example, have been and continue to be conducted internationally. Since 1945 non-profit organizations have been actively engaged in international politics, collaborating with intergovernmental organizations such as the United Nations (UN), the World Trade Organization (WTO), and the World Health Organization (WHO), a trend which has accelerated since the UN summit in 1992. The increasing importance of non-governmental actors in international politics goes hand in hand with a significant decline in the influence of national governments. Accordingly, current theories on global governance and global civil societies (Commission on Global Governance 1995) give much space and attention to the international work of non-profit organizations. There are some indicators that transnational social spaces are emerging as a result of the activities of NPOs (Townsend 1999). Communities of transnational non-profit organizations are characterized by an intensive exchange of information. In fact, discussions regarding policies, strategies, goals, values, and cultures, along with the use of a non-profit-specific “technical language” and a shared set of beliefs and habits, lead to a sort of emotional and interactive form of intimacy amongst transnational NPOs. As regards personal experiences, values and interests, a member of Greenpeace Russia may thus have more in common with somebody working for Greenpeace UK than with his or her next-door neighbour. Common ideologies always help to define and unite social groups (Brown and Brown 1983). This fact may account for the intensity of the transnational social spaces that exist amongst non-profit organizations, whose members are to a large extent motivated by ideologies. There is strong evidence that transnational communities exist not just within transnational NPOs, but also within the transnational networks of these organizations. While in the business world one might assume that most small companies are locally oriented, in the world of non-profit organizations even small and locally oriented organizations very often work and network internationally. The term NPO itself refers primarily to organizations located “somewhere in between the market and the state”, and it covers a huge variety of organizations, ranging from transnational advocacy organizations and large charity organizations to sports clubs, private schools, trade unions, and cultural institutions—to name just a few. The wide variety of non-profit organizations is one reason why NPOs have been defined in a number of different ways. In this chapter we will define them as organizations that are to some extent formally organized, private (meaning that they are institutionally separate from any government), non-profitdistributing, self-governing (meaning that they are not controlled by other organizations), and voluntary in nature (Salomon and Anheier 1992, p. 135). Non-profit organizations use different organizational structures and procedures depending on their size, tasks, financial resources, culture and history (Bernard 1999). The degree of centralization and hierarchy in these organizations varies significantly, which is not surprising given their great diversity. Despite differences, there are a number of factors which influence the systems of co-ordination and control in most non-profit organizations. These factors will be described in the

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following section, and will be illustrated by referring to the results of case studies of Greenpeace and Amnesty International. Multiple embeddedness, goal ambiguity and the difficulties of measuring efficiency and effectiveness Research in the field of new institutional theory proposes “that non-profit organizations are best understood as embedded within communities, political systems, cultures, industries, or co-ordinative fields of organizations” (Feeney 1997, pp. 490f; Powell and DiMaggio 1991). Institutional environments and the constituencies of NPOs tend to exhibit a high degree of complexity and multiplicity (Herman and Heimovics 1991). If, for example, a developmental aid organization meets the demands of local groups in the South for active leverage policies aimed at changing terms of trade, it risks alienating major donors in the North. After analysing stakeholder evaluations of the efficiency of NPOs, Herman and Renz (1997, p. 201) concluded that non-profit organizations are best understood as multiple-stakeholder organizations: “The idea that there is a single objective organizational effectiveness independent of the judgements of various stakeholders is no longer tenable or useful.” Although all organizations face dilemmas and contradictory expectations, NPOs have fewer opportunities to handle these problems by referring to one dominant logic or to one dominant external relationship. Concerning co-ordination and control, it is obvious that the more complex an organization’s environment, the more challenging the task of integrating sub-units. The multiple embeddedness of non-profit organizations and differing stakeholder interests often causes problems in defining and measuring efficiency and effectiveness. When constituencies give priority to different organizational goals and apply different criteria when defining success and efficiency, managers are faced with a high degree of uncertainty. Elements of control like benchmarking or targetsetting, which depend on clear operational goals, cannot be easily applied. If goals and evaluation criteria are not specified, or if they are contradictory, an organization might end up trying to simply “muddle through”. In non-profit organizations, without evaluation criteria and goal-specification a failure of coordination and control is the norm rather than the exception. This situation heightens the necessity for negotiation processes, which, if carried out correctly, will result in valuable organizational learning experiences and increase an organization’s capacity for communicative co-ordination. Ideologies, often seen as an aspect of cultural relationships, have a particularly high impact on the organizational life of most non-profit organizations. Ideologies can be defined as relatively coherent sets of beliefs and shared values that bind people together, provide explanations for phenomena and suggest appropriate actions (Brown and Brown 1983). The following excerpt from Greenpeace’s 25th Anniversary Report (1996) demonstrates the importance that NPOs place on shared ideologies: “Greenpeace is driven by passion. Whether it is the fight to save whales or stop nuclear tests, our campaigns, and the millions who support

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them, have at their heart a passionate commitment to change.” Shared ideologies and values help facilitate processes of transnational co-ordination. While profitmaking organizations often dedicate much time and money to the development and implementation of shared principles, the high impact of a common “mission” in non-profit organizations is almost guaranteed. Shared ideologies help provide focus and orientation in ambiguous situations, they engender a high degree of commitment and motivation and they can facilitate mutual tolerance and understanding between people of different cultures. The importance of ideology for NPOs can also be a source of organizational conflicts that result from different sets of values and different negotiation contexts. In transnational organizations, ideological differences can also be further aggravated by cultural differences. In parts of Asia, for example, Greenpeace is regarded as a very radical and extreme organization, while some European critics feel that it is becoming too moderate and is moving too close to the establishment. These different evaluations of Greenpeace probably stem from different cultural concepts and ways of dealing with conflicts. Moreover, in organizations where ideologies carry great weight, moral arguments can be the basis of closed-mind strategies and irrational arguments. The characteristically high level of informality within NPOs is matched by a degree of resistance to formal power structures. The volunteers and employees of smaller non-profit organizations that were born in the wake of new social movements, often have a deep-seated mistrust of power politics, hierarchies and formal structures. Clear-cut job descriptions, elaborate rules for decision-making processes, and the existence of a centralized executive power are often seen as structures that limit personal freedom and destroy the individual characteristics of their organization, thereby making the structures of the non-profit organization too similar to those of business organizations. Members of NPOs are also often critical and wary of power and highly sensitized to any form of injustice that might result from the abuse of formal power. Interestingly enough, members often use the training and experience gained during their fights against other formalized organizations “at home” as well—to defeat bureaucratic structures in their own organization (Patak and Simsa 1993). This is especially true in those non-profit organizations that are staffed primarily by volunteers, since such workers can hardly be forced to do anything. As a consequence, there are often serious limitations to comprehensive planning and top-down decision-making structures in non-profit organizations. The strategic influence of executives is often heavily restricted. Co-ordination processes depend to a large extent on the people involved and their respective personalities. The absence of formal structures often leads to the unduly high influence of resourcedependent power relations based on informal power and individual interests. Although money is not the central focus of the NPOs that we studied, the employees of these organizations spoke of an underlying tendency to accord rich countries more influence. Therefore, the power of a partner’s unit is to some extent determined by the amount of financial backing a partner receives. On the

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other hand, the absence of formal structures in NPOs allows a lot of space for horizontal co-ordination and exchange relations between sub-units. Another advantage of loose formal structures might be the fact that NPOs usually allow a lot of room for the fulfilment of the respective needs of a variety of cultures, and afford a wide variety of strategies and problem-solving processes in sub-units. The flexibility of NPOs can also ease the adaptations that must be made as a result of changing contexts and conditions. Empirical evidence suggests that decentralized federal structures are more successful in meeting the challenges of international environments than are centralized organizations and hierarchical federations (Young 1992). During fieldwork we conducted at Greenpeace we observed trends towards more centralized and homogenized structures, and the concentration of decisionmaking forces. Until a few years ago many decisions regarding campaigns and co-operation within the organization depended to a large extent on coincidence and/or the financial strength and interests of individual national offices. According to Greenpeace’s “Program of Reform”, greater emphasis was laid in the past on allotting more power to the international head office (Greenpeace International) and on formalizing structures of co-ordination and strategy, which in turn led to a clarification of the relationship between international and national offices. This state of affairs gave Greenpeace International a stronger position and placed a slightly greater emphasis on structures, at the expense of the influence individual actors were allowed to exert. Greenpeace’s “Program of Reform” has introduced the element of target-setting into the organization. Targets are now set by means of bilateral agreements between national offices and international management and are based on the Organizational Development Plan of each national office. If a joint plan is not approved by the international office, an intensive negotiation process will be started, aimed at harmonizing national plans with international goals and necessities. As the cooperation between Greenpeace International and national offices is mainly communicative and requires consensus, this process is usually very demanding and requires a great deal of time, communicative competence, persuasive ability, and facilitation. The pitfalls of transnationality: cross-border co-ordination The features of non-profit organizations described above do not refer exclusively to transnational organizations. In organizations which operate across borders, many challenges may arise because of an organization’s embeddedness in a variety of national and institutional frameworks. We will treat three main problems. National egoism versus transnational homogeneity All globally operating organizations need national units. Workers have to be employed according to national laws, and fund-raising, lobbying and ad campaigns often have to be tailored to one or several different local settings. Thus conflicts arise between international and national units because of differences between

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overall organizational goals and the diverse goals of individual units. Consequently, competition between national units, based on emotions such as national egoism, is common. Such inter-unit competition is possible because at times the responsibility felt by national managers for their own national concerns, outweighs their commitment to the international levels of the organization. Sometimes we can even observe a certain distrust of international staff, who are criticized by local staff members for “not knowing what they are talking about when it comes to national affairs”. Such dynamics can lead to a situation in which, for example, the fundraising manager of Greenpeace International might be asked to support a national fund-raising campaign, only to find that his or her helpful suggestions are met with resentment from local fund-raising managers. These local fund-raising managers might claim, for example, that the strategies recommended by the fund-raising manager of Greenpeace International would not be suitable in the local context where the fund-raising campaign was to be held. Although such an argument might be valid, it might also be used as a kind of “killer argument”, that simply reflects the resentment or fear that local managers feel when faced with new ideas. At the same time, we also observed agreement amongst many workers that adherence to common strategies, and even a certain degree of subordination to central principles and goals, is necessary. Such consensus arises from a set of shared ideologies. Nonetheless, national managers as well as international specialists must function as links between national and international interests and manage the tensions between national and international units by using a mixture of “diplomacy and pressure”. Members increasingly feel affiliated not only to the national but directly to the international organization, because of the very high importance and density of communication and the sometimes very timeconsuming international meetings. Although e-mail and other communication technologies are extremely important and helpful, the implementation of personal commitment and emotional engagement and the establishment of transnational spheres necessitates a certain amount of face-to-face contact. Generally, despite “the natural proclivity to organize nationally, many NGOs may be more effective eschewing national identities as an organizing concept” (Princen and Finger 1994, p. 230). On the other hand, in some non-profit organizations the balancing of national and international strategies might give international (confrontational) strategies undue preference, even when local interests might have been better served by localized strategies and negotiation processes—a problem which has been considered in studies of development organizations (Nelson 1999). Cultural differences In transnational organizations conflicts between centralized and decentralized units can be aggravated by cultural differences. Three cultural differences which can complicate transnational co-ordination, harmonization, and negotiation processes are: differing communicative strategies and styles, differences in local

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perspectives on the significance of an issue, and different institutional and political environments. Apart from different ways of dealing with conflicts, different perceptions of radicalism and different modes of co-operation, there are also different ways of using language that can lead to transnational misunderstandings. According to one of our interview partners, a German employee, for example, would reject a proposal by saying, “No, that is nonsense!” while a Japanese employee would express the same view by saying, “This is a good idea, but we should think a little bit more about it.” This example demonstrates that in all transnational communications the opinions voiced by participants exist in a context which is defined and affected by the conventions of a speaker’s native language. Another factor which can complicate transnational co-ordination is variation in the local importance of a given issue. For example, whereas environmental campaigns against whale-killing were highly successful and led to a significant rise in donations in most countries, these campaigns created massive financial problems for Greenpeace’s Norwegian headquarters. Similarly, human-rights campaigns against female genital mutilation or discrimination against homosexuals are not equally received in all countries. This is why Greenpeace’s national offices now have the right to veto the launch of proposed campaigns in their countries. In recognition of local differences, Amnesty International has begun to formulate agendas in a more culturally responsive manner. Thus, as a result of internal conflicts, Amnesty International’s slogan “one message—one voice” was changed to “one message—many voices”. Regional differences in institutional and political environments can also pose problems for transnational organizations, since a legal conflict in any given country might undermine efforts towards transnational harmonization. In China, for example, activists protesting against nuclear tests took the risk of being imprisoned or killed because of their activities; nonetheless activists who operate in more democratic countries criticized the protestors in China for the “inappropriate mildness” of their actions. To avoid such inter-organizational conflicts, transnational organizations must take into account the legal and democratic structures of respective countries. Western predominance and efforts to shake it off Conflicts over central co-ordination and organizational culture are common, especially since western values and viewpoints have so far predominated in many NPOs. For example, although Greenpeace is making serious efforts to evolve from a merely international into a truly transnational organization, Europe and the USA still supply the most members. Likewise, Greenpeace is eagerly pursuing the aim of staffing local offices with local people, but the international board of directors is almost exclusively made up of AngloAmerican males. Greenpeace’s past campaigns were also sometimes run without collaboration with the domestic organizations of the countries concerned. Today there is a tendency to enforce the integration and incorporation of local people,

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even though in some countries such efforts are sometimes impeded by a lack of qualified personnel. Amnesty International faces a similar situation. For example, Europe and Northern America dominate the processes by which Amnesty International’s organizational culture and strategies are determined and established. As part of an effort to shake off this western dominance, Amnesty International often holds its international meetings in regions where the organization is less established. Additionally, non-western members are being encouraged to take over leadership positions. Transnational communities in non-profit organizations Despite the above-mentioned problems and obstacles that hinder transnational homogeneity and co-ordination, a high degree of identification with the organization’s international policies, platforms and goals is found in many NPOs. Strong emotional ties and the frequent use of dense communication networks justify talk of the emergence of transnational communities within NPOs. At Greenpeace, a large number of employees are internationally oriented: not only the staff members at the international headquarters but also members working in local offices, on campaigns, fund-raising, and external communications, actively engage in intensive networking and international communication. Information about international research and the results of campaigns conducted in other countries are speedily distributed within the organization and facilitate discussions as well as the development of local strategies. An organization’s transnational community arises as a result of three factors; intense communication, shared ideologies and effective organizational structures.

Conclusions Our conclusions on the relationship between the elements of control and coordination and the emergence of transnational social spaces can only be tentative. Of the broader organizational trends we have considered, we would stress four which are of importance to both business enterprises and non-profit organizations. The first point relates to the multiplicity of elements of co-ordination and control in transnational businesses and non-profit organizations. In transnational companies the combination of different elements of co-ordination and control depends on the character of the production process and the product market, internationalization strategies and organizational legacies, and partly on “homecountry effects”. Describing general trends and developing typologies is not easy because of the great variety of organizations that must be taken into account, and the fact that each company uses a variety of modes of co-ordination and control. One of the most topical trends however, is the strengthening of organizational cultures and communicative co-ordination in an effort to cope with the increased complexity of transnational companies. It is our argument that these processes of

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organizational integration do not replace authority relations. In fact, the decentralization of operational decision-making and the strengthening of indirect, “budgetary” control, combined with the establishment of quasi-market relations, considerably strengthens authority relations within transnational corporations. Rational management approaches that focus on goal attainment, and the use of structures, administration, authority, and standard operating procedures often have to be adapted and modified before they can be put to use in non-profit organizations. Nonetheless, there seems to be a tendency towards a higher degree of formality and standardization in these organizations, as well as a trend towards transnational uniformity and co-ordination. As a result, authority relations become more acceptable. At the same time, a slight tendency towards allowing a greater number of cultural constituencies an increasing amount of influence in NPOs can also be observed. The increasing influence allowed to cultural constituencies affects in turn the hegemonic cultural norms of the NPOs. Communication-based movements towards global uniformity might lead to tightly knit transnational communities and a greater entanglement of cultures. Since tensions between central units and regional units exist in nearly all large organizations, many of the challenges faced by transnational organizations are a result of their size, and not necessarily of their transnational character. This is relevant to our second conclusion: that the transnationality of an organization is not always a defining principle, but may instead be a force that can increase tensions which already exist. As regards the institutional environments of an organization, we do find characteristics that are caused by an organization’s international operation in a variety of legal and political, cultural, communicative and social environments. Transnational organizations usually adapt to the variety of the international system by establishing two parallel structures, the governance system and the corporate system. The governance system is the sum of an organization’s formal legal structures and cultural expectations, and the corporate system is the sum of an organization’s general co-ordinating structures. Thirdly, the concept of transnational or pluri-local social spaces relates mainly to social integration (shared norms, values, identities, communicative coordination, etc.) and can be distinguished from (transnational) system integration (e.g. corporate structures and strategies that affect people’s lives). Global and local phenomena tend to be systemically linked because of economic tendencies towards increased internationalization. Conceptualizing economic and organizational phenomena at transnational levels, in terms of the relationships between systems or between parts of a single “world system”, is well established (e.g. Wallerstein 1974). On the other hand, the perspective of social integration—in other words, the action-oriented perspective—is a new and important contribution to the debates on internationalization. One consequence of this approach was that we had to take a closer look at the relation between the “transnational” and the “local” constituencies of the organizations we studied. As far as business organizations are concerned, the

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shortcomings of unitary concepts of organizational culture are increasingly obvious. Usually, only a small percentage of an organization’s employees are integrated into the company’s transnational social spaces. As for the “transnational orientations” of an organization’s employees, there seems to be a big difference between international employees who hold leadership positions and the staff members of local and national-level offices, the latter group rarely being involved in international affairs. In non-profit organizations, transnational communities tend to be more inclusive, partly because more members share the overall norms and values of the organization as a whole and engage in direct communication with the organization’s members in other countries. It seems as if common structures encourage transnational social integration only if they are introduced and carried out discursively. Transnational social integration also demands a high level of communication. Therefore common and centralized structures are an important prerequisite for social integration. But centralized structures can also result in the creation of two classes within the organization, an “elite” class of internationally active and integrated employees and a class of nationally oriented employees. Our fourth and last point refers to the relation of tendencies towards integration and trends towards fragmentation (Menzel 1998; Baumann 1991). World-wide systems integration of markets and production systems leads to a maintenance of, or an increase in, regional inequalities, not just between countries but also within nations. Tendencies towards fragmentation can therefore be found not only within organizations but also within regional spaces. The dwindling significance of national borders is thus matched by the emergence of new borders which are social rather than geographic in nature. For example, people involved in transnational organizations and communities often form social relationships that are separate from other communities (Hannerz 1991). Therefore the disappearance of borders does not necessarily lead to more openness or cosmopolitan orientation, but gives rise to the emergence of socially constructed borders within and across regional spaces. The transnational spaces that result “tend to be more or less clear cut occupational cultures” (ibid., 243). These transnational spaces are often established by employees of transnational organizations who are working abroad; they form social islands in which they identify themselves more often as members of an organization than as residents of the country where they are working. Such employees often work in a country for a very short time and have to adapt quickly to a new environment, a new job and new colleagues. As a consequence they rarely come into contact with locals who do not work for the same organization that they do, and so they form a social space apart.

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In: European Journal of Industrial Relations, 2, 3, pp. 345–368 Nelson, P., 1999: “Heroism and ambiguity. NGO advocacy in international policy”. Paper presented at the conference “NGOs in a Global Future”, Birmingham Patak, M. and R.Simsa, 1993: “Paradoxien in Non-profit-Organizationen”. In: Managerie. 2. Jahrbuch Systemisches Denken und Handeln im Management. Heidelberg: Carl Auer Perlmutter, H., 1969: “The tortuous evolution of the multinational corporation”. In: Columbia Journal of World Business, 4 (1), pp. 9–18 Powell, W.W. and P.J.DiMaggio (eds), 1991: The New Institutionalism in Organizational Analysis. Chicago/London, University of Chicago Press Pries, L., 1997: “Production configurations and production concepts in globally operating companies”. In: G.Schmidt and R.Trinczek (eds), Arbeitspapiere II des DFGSchwerpunkts “Regulierung und Restrukturierung der Arbeit”, Erlangen, Universität Erlangen-Nürnbergh, pp. 77–95 ——, 1998: “Transnationale Soziale Räume: Theoretisch-empirische Skizze am Beispiel der Arbeitswanderung Mexiko-USA”. In: U.Beck (ed.), Perspektiven der Weltgesellschaft. Frankfurt/Main: Suhrkamp, pp. 55–85 Princen, T. and M.Finger, 1994: Environmental NGOs in World Politics. London: Routledge Ritzer, G., 1993: The McDonaldization of Society. Thousand Oaks/London/New Delhi: Fine Forge Robertson, R., 1992: Globalization: Social theory and global culture. Thousand Oaks/London/ New Delhi: Sage ——, 1998: “Glokalisierung: Homogenität und Heterogenität in Raum und Zeit”. In: U. Beck (ed.), Perspektiven der Weltgesellschaft. Frankfurt/Main: Suhrkamp Rudolph, H. and F.Hillmann, 1998: Via Baltica: Die Rolle westlicher Fach- und Führungskräfte im Transformationsprozeß Lettlands, WZB discussion paper FS I 98–106, Berlin Salomon, L. and H.K.Anheier, 1992: “In search of the non-profit sector: I. The question of definitions”. In: Voluntas, 3. no. 2, pp. 125–153 Schultz-Wild, R., 1998: “Stabilität im Wandel: Globalisierung der Produktion von Leistungstransformatoren”. In: M. von Behr and H.Hirsch-Kreinsen (eds), Globale Produktion und Industriearbeit. Frankfurt: Campus Scott, W.R., 1995: Institutions and Organizations. London/Thousand Oaks/New Delhi: Sage Smith, C. and T.Elger, 1997: “International competition, inward investment and restructuring of European work and industrial relations”. In: European Journal of Industrial Relations 3, 3, pp. 279–304 Steger, U. (ed.), 1998: Discovering the New Pattern of Globalization. Ladenburg: Gottlieb Daimler und Carl Benz-Stiftung Sydow,J., 1992: Strategische Netzwerke: Evolution und Organisation. Wiesbaden: Gabler Townley, B., 1991: “Selection and appraisal: reconstituting ‘social relations’?” In: J.Storey (ed.), New Perspectives on Human Resource Development. London: Routledge Townsend, J., 1999: “Women’s self-empowerment and the transnational community of NG DOs”. Paper presented at the conference “NGOs in a Global Future”, Birmingham 1999 Wahl, P, 1997: “Mythos und Realität internationaler Zivilgesellschaft”. In: E.Altvater, A. Brunnengräber, M.Haake and H. Walk (eds), Vernetzt und Verstrickt. Münster: Westfälisches Dampfboot Wallerstein, I., 1974: The Modern World-System. San Diego: Academic Press Young, D., 1992: “Organizing Principles for International Advocacy Organizations”. In: Voluntas, 3/1; pp. 1–28

Part IV

The future of transnational social spaces

10 Cracked casings1 Notes towards an analytics for studying transnational processes Saskia Sassen

Transnational processes such as economic globalization confront the social sciences with a series of theoretical and methodological challenges. In the case of today’s global economy, such a challenge comes out of the fact that it simultaneously transcends the authority of the national state, yet is at least partly implanted in national territories and institutions. As a result, economic globalization directly engages two marking features of much social science: the explicit or implicit assumption about the nation-state as the container of social processes and the implied correspondence of national territory and national exclusive territoriality (the institutional encasement of that territory). Both these assumptions describe conditions that have held for a long time—throughout much of the history of the modern state since World War I and in some cases even earlier. But these conditions are now being partly unbundled. These assumptions about the nation-state as container and territoriality as synonymous with territory work well for many of the subjects studied in the social sciences. But they are not helpful in elucidating a growing number of situations when it comes to globalization and to a whole variety of transnational processes now being studied by social scientists. Nor are those assumptions helpful for developing the requisite research techniques. For instance, one of the features of the current phase of globalization is that the fact that a process happens within the territory of a sovereign state does not necessarily mean it is a national process. This localization of the global, or of the non-national, in national territories undermines a key duality running through many of the methods and conceptual frameworks prevalent in the social sciences—that the national and the non-national are two mutually exclusive conditions. There have been many epochs when territories were subject to multiple, or at least more than one, systems of rule. In this regard the current condition we see developing with globalization is probably by far the more common one, and the period from World War I—when we saw the gradual institutional tightening of the national state’s exclusive authority over its territory—the historical exception. However, the categories for analysis, research techniques and data sets in the social sciences have largely been developed in that particular period. Thus we face the difficult and collective task of developing the theoretical and empirical specifications that allow us to accommodate the fact of multiple relations 187

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between territory and institutional encasement, rather than the singular one of national state and sovereign rule. The new scholarship on transnationalism and on space represents the beginnings of such an effort. For instance, anthropologists and sociologists working on immigration have provided us with particularly fruitful studies in this regard, cross-border migration flows being a subject that lends itself to such an approach (see, e.g. Basch et al. 1994; Mahler 1995; Smith 1998; Grasmuck and Pessar 1991; Pessar 1995; and the work in this book). On a more theoretical level, there is the new scholarship on space, particularly the effort to spatialize/ rescale social processes.2 One of the challenges, but possibly more fruitful venues, is to engage the scholarship on sub-national or regional supra-national areas, and generally what is referred to as “area studies”: the challenge is to negotiate its area-focus with scales not contemplated in many of these studies. The distinction between the global and the local is yet another type of relation that needs to be rethought, notably the assumption about the necessity of proximity in the constitution of the “local”. One of the tasks here has to do with rethinking spatial hierarchies that are usually taken as a given: local/ national/ global. For example, both the new international professionals and immigrant workers operate in contexts which are at the same time local and global. The new professionals of finance are members of a cross-border culture that is in many ways embedded in a global network of “local” places—a set of particular international financial centres, with much circulation of people, information, capital among them. Further, as financial centres, London, New York, Zurich, Amsterdam, Frankfurt, are all part of an international yet very localized work sub-culture. We see here “proximity” but not embedded in territorial space; rather, a deterritorialized form of proximity. And many immigrants will tend to be part of a cross-border network that connects specific localities—their new communities and their localities of origin in home countries. Though in a manner different from the financiers, they nonetheless also have the experience of deterritorialized local cultures, not predicated on locational proximity. In my research on these two types of workers I have found that they operate in labour markets that are local even though not characterized by territorial proximity as the standard model of local markets would have it (Sassen 1996). The experience of globalization and its impacts on places and institutions is partial. It is not an all-encompassing umbrella. It installs itself in very specific structures. And it is this specificity that we need to study, along with macro processes, and for which we need to develop particular categories of analysis. In this chapter I examine these issues by focusing on two distinct processes, one concerned with the relation between the global economy and the nation-state, and the second with the relation of the global economy and place. This choice of focus is inevitably conditioned by my own past research. Both of these contain research sites that call for detailed empirical work, including ethnographic work, and for an understanding of social and cultural dynamics. Herein lies, indeed, one of the important methodological and theoretical implications of such an alternative approach: a study of the global economy is not confined to the

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macro-level cross-border processes studied by international economists; it also requires macro- and micro-level studies by sociologists, anthropologists, political scientists, and others. And it requires multi-site research rather than simply comparative studies (see Pries, this volume). The purpose in this chapter is to illustrate a research and theorization practice. It is also to communicate and open up a discussion rather than produce a finished, tight, parsimonious statement. There are two arguments I develop in this chapter. In the first half, my argument is that the tension between (a) the necessary, though partial, location of globalization in national territories and institutions, and (b) an elaborate system of law and administration that has constructed the exclusive national territorial authority of sovereign states, has (c) been partly negotiated through (1) processes of institutional de-nationalization inside the national state and national economy, and (2) the formation of privatized intermediary institutional arrangements that are only partly encompassed by the inter-state system, and are, in fact, evolving into a parallel institutional world for the handling of cross-border operations.3 In terms of research this means, among other tasks, decoding what is national today in what has historically been constructed as national, and establishing what are the new territorial and institutional conditionalities of national states. In the second half, I argue that the emphasis on hyper mobility, global communications, and the neutralization of place and distance in the mainstream account about economic globalization needs to be balanced with a focus on the work behind command functions, on the actual production process in the leading information industries, finance and specialized services, and on global market places. This has the effect of incorporating the material facilities underlying globalization and the whole infrastructure of jobs typically not marked as belonging to the new corporate global economy. It overcomes the tendency in the mainstream account to take the existence of a global economic system as a given, a function of the power of transnational corporations and global communications. The capabilities for global operation, coordination and control contained in the new information technologies and in the power of transnational corporations need to be produced. Looking at it this way, we recover the material conditions, production sites, and place-boundedness that are also part of globalization and the information economy. And we recover the broad range of types of firms, types of workers, types of work cultures, types of residential milieux, that are also part of globalization processes, though never marked, recognized, represented, or valorized as such. Recapturing the geography of places involved in globalization allows us to recapture people, workers, communities, and more specifically, the many different work cultures, besides the corporate culture, involved in the work of globalization.

The unbundling of national territoriality Two notions underlie much of the current discussion about globalization and the national state. One is the zero-sum assumption: whatever the global economy

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gains, the national state loses, and vice versa. The global economy and the national state are conceived of as two mutually exclusive terrains—for action, for theorization and for empirical specification. The other notion is that if an event a business transaction, a legislative act, a judiciary decision—takes place in a national territory, it is a national event. These assumptions about zero-sums and geography influence experts on the global economy as well as the general public. For experts it has meant that they have typically confined themselves to crossborder processes, notably international trade and investment; the analysis has produced a rather empirically and theoretically thin account. Economic globalization represents an at least partial transformation in the territorial organization of economic activity and of politico-economic power (Mittelman 1996; Ruggie 1993; Jessop 1990; Aman 1995). It contains the capacity to alter the particular form of the intersection of sovereignty and territory embedded in the modern state and the modern state system. But simply to posit, as is so often done, that economic globalization has brought with it a declining significance of the national state, tout court, misses some of the finer points about this transformation. The encounter of a global actor—firm or market—with one or another instantiation of the national state can be thought of as a new frontier zone. It is not merely a dividing line between the national economy and the global economy. It is a zone of politico-economic interactions that produce new institutional forms and alter some of the old ones. Nor is it just a matter of reducing regulations or the role of government generally. For instance, in many countries, the necessity for autonomous central banks in the current global economic system has required a thickening of regulations in order to de-link central banks from the influence of the executive branch of government. This zone of interaction is highly charged, and potentially the outcomes of this interaction can make for epochal change. It is not simply the push by global firms and markets that is shaping the dynamics of interaction, as is implied in much of the literature on the declining significance of the national state under globalization. States are also shaping the dynamics of interaction and are doing so not merely in the form of resistance (see, e.g., Mittelman 1996). In doing so, however, they are reconfigured (Sassen 1996, chapter 1). This reconfiguring is shaped both by trends towards standardization, as is the growing convergence in the role of central banks, and by national particularities, e.g. the different responses of Argentina, Indonesia and Malaysia to the 1997–8 financial crisis. Beyond the inadequacy of simply accepting the general proposition of a declining significance of the state, there is also the problematic acceptance of a simple quantitative measure of globalization. Simply to focus on the fact of the often minimal share of foreign inputs in national economies overlooks, again, some of the marking features of the current phase of the global economy. It is indeed the case that in most developed countries the share of foreign in total investment, the share of international in total trade, the share of foreign in total stock market value, are all very small. However, to infer from this that economic globalization is not really a significant issue, misses two crucial features. One is

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that economic globalization is strategic rather than all-encompassing: it does not require “majorities” to succeed. The second is the fact that most global processes materialize in national territories and do so to a large extent through national institutional arrangements, from legislative acts to firms, and are thereby not necessarily counted as “foreign”. Conversely, for that same reason we cannot simply assume that because a transaction takes place in national territory and in a national institutional setting it is ipso facto national. In my reading, the imbrication of global actors and national institutions is far more ambiguous. The case of the central banks today also illustrates another key aspect in the process whereby national economies accommodate a global economic system: a country’s central bank can be a key institution for implementing—in its national economy—some of the new rules of the global economy, notably some of the standards in IMF conditionality. This signals that “national” institutions can become home to some of the operational rules of the global economic system.4

Necessary instrumentalities: state-centred and non-state-centred mechanisms Implementing today’s global economic system in the context of national territorial sovereignty required multiple policy negotiations. One of the roles of the state vis-a-vis today’s global economy, unlike earlier forms of the world economy, has been to negotiate the intersection of national law and the claims of foreign actors—whether firms, markets or supranational organizations. What makes the current phase distinctive is, on the one hand, the existence of an enormously elaborate body of law which secures the exclusive territoriality of national states to an extent not seen in the nineteenth century (e.g. Ruggie 1993; Kratochwil 1986) and, on the other, the considerable institutionalizing of the “rights” of non-national firms, the “legalizing” of a growing array of cross-border transactions, and the growing, and increasingly institutionalized, participation by supranational organizations in national matters (e.g. Rosen and McFadyen 1995). This sets up the conditions for a necessary engagement of national states in the process of globalization. We generally use terms such as “deregulation”, financial and trade liberalization, and privatization, to describe the outcome of this negotiation. The problem with such terms is that they only capture the withdrawal of the state from regulating its economy. They do not register all the ways in which the state participates in setting up the new frameworks through which globalization is furthered (e.g. Mittelman 1996; Shapiro 1993); nor do they capture the associated transformations inside the state. One way of putting it, then, would be to say that certain components of the national state operate as necessary instrumentalities for the implementation of a global economic system. There is much more going on in these negotiations than the concept “deregulation” captures. “Deregulation” actually refers to an extremely complex

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set of intersections and negotiations which, while they may preserve the integrity of national territory as a geographic condition, do transform exclusive territoriality, i.e. the national and international frameworks through which national territory has assumed an institutional form over the last seventy years (Sassen 1998). National territory and exclusive territoriality have corresponded tightly for much of the recent history of the developed nation-states (for critical accounts, see, e.g., Walker 1993).5 Today, globalization may be contributing to an incipient slippage in that correspondence. Much deregulation has had the effect of promoting that slippage and giving it a legitimate form in national legal frameworks. The reconfiguring of the institutional encasement of national territory also brings with it the ascendance of sub-national spaces.6 The fact that we cannot simply reduce these negotiations to the notion of deregulation is also illustrated by the privatization of public-sector firms. Such privatization is not just a change in ownership status, but also a shift of regulatory functions to the private sector, where they re-emerge under other forms, most notably private corporate legal and accounting services. Recognizing the importance of place and of production—in this case the production of a system of power—helps us refocus our thinking about the global economy along these lines. The global economy needs to be implemented, reproduced, serviced, financed. It cannot be taken simply as a given, or a set of markets, or merely as a function of the power of multinational corporations and financial markets. There is a vast array of highly specialized functions that need to be executed and infrastructures that need to be secured. These have become so specialized that they can no longer be subsumed under general corporate headquarter functions. Global cities, with their complex networks of highly specialized service firms and labour markets are strategic sites for the production of these specialized functions. In this sense, global cities are one form of this embeddedness of global processes in national territories and in national institutional arrangements.7 The role played by these strategic places in the organization and management of the global economy, along with the fact that much investment and all financial markets, no matter how deregulated, are located somewhere, shows us that the global economy to a large extent materializes in national territories (I return to the subject in the second half of this chapter).8 It means, in turn, that various institutions of the national state are inevitably involved.9 The result is a particular set of negotiations which have the effect of leaving the geographic condition of the nation-state’s territory unaltered, but do transform the institutional encasements of that geographic fact: that is, the state’s territorial jurisdiction or, more abstractly, the state’s exclusive territoriality. My argument is that, precisely because global processes materialize to a large extent in national territories, many national states have had to become involved, even if at times peripherally, in the implementation of the global economic system and have, in this process, experienced transformations of various aspects of their institutional structure.10 On a fairly abstract level we can see the ambiguity of the distinction between “national” and “global” in the normative weight gained by the logic of the global

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capital market to set criteria for key national economic policies (see Sassen 1996, chapter 2, for a fuller discussion). The outcomes of many of the negotiations between national states and global economic actors signal that the logic of the global capital market is succeeding in imposing itself on important aspects of national economic policy-making. Autonomy of the central bank, anti-inflation policies, exchange-rate parity and the variety of items usually referred to as “IMF conditionality”—all of these have become a set of norms. This new normativity can be seen at work in the design of the “solution” to the Mexican economic crisis of December 1994; this crisis was described as a consequence of the global financial markets having “lost confidence” in the government’s leadership of the Mexican economy, and the “solution” was explicitly aimed at restoring that confidence.11 However the actual materialization of these conditions will go through specific institutional channels and assume distinct forms in each country, with various levels of resistance and consent—whence my notion of this dynamic as having the features of a frontier zone. Clearly, Malaysia responded differently to the imposition of IMF norms than some of the other countries in the region. The encounter between the new norms and national specificity can produce various outcomes. It does suggest that the “financial crises” experienced by many of these emerging markets cannot only be a function of inadequate government performance. The globalization of their financial markets has something to do with it. And this globalization follows the norms of the logic of the global capital market. Let me elaborate on this. After the Mexico crisis, there was a general collapse in emerging markets. But a mere six months later there was a sharp recovery. The trade literature describes this as a partly engineered result: international investors got together with the most creative talent in financial institutions and banks to design some of the most creative and never-before-seen deals.12 The aim was to produce assets of emerging markets attractive to the scared-off investors. In this light, one could read the current financial crises of some of the Asian countries as a dynamic that destabilizes national monopoly control of these economies. We are already seeing that the crisis has facilitated access by foreign investors to economies still largely dominated by national ownership and control, no matter how much foreign investment they were willing to absorb, and it was plenty.

The new intermediaries While central, the role of the state in producing the legal encasements for economic activity is no longer what it was in earlier periods. Economic globalization has also been accompanied by the creation of new legal regimes and legal practices and the expansion and renovation of some older forms that have the effect of replacing public regulation and law with private mechanisms and sometimes even bypass national legal systems. The importance of private

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over-sight institutions, such as credit rating agencies, has increased with the deregulation and globalization of the financial markets. These agencies are now key institutions in the creation of order and transparency in the global capital market and have considerable power over sovereign states through their authority in rating government debt. Also the rise of international commercial arbitration as the main mechanism for resolving cross-border business disputes entails a declining importance of national courts in these matters—a privatizing of this kind of justice (e.g. Salacuse l991). Further, the new international rules for financial reporting and accounting implemented in 1998 and 1999 also relocate some national functions to a privatized international system. All of these begin to amount to a privatized system of governance ensuring order, respect for contracts, transparency, and accountability in the world of cross-border business transactions. To some extent this privatized world of governance has replaced various functions of national states in ensuring the protection of the rights of firms. This privatization contributes to change the dynamics and to fuel new dynamics in the zone of interaction between national institutions and global actors. The state continues to play a crucial, but no longer exclusive, role in the production of “legality” around new forms of economic activity. There is a new intermediary world of strategic agents that contribute to the management and coordination of the global economy. These agents are largely, though not exclusively, private. And they have absorbed some of the international functions carried out by states in the recent past, as was the case, for instance, with international trade under predominantly protectionist regimes in the post-World War II decades. Their role is dramatically illustrated by the case of China: when the Chinese government in 1996 issued a 100–year bond to be sold, not in Shanghai, but mostly in New York, it did not have to deal with Washington, it dealt with J.P.Morgan. This example can be repeated over and over for a broad range of countries. Private firms in international finance, accounting and law, the new private standards for international accounting and financial reporting, and supra-national organizations such as WTO, all play strategic non-government-centred governance roles. But they do so in good part inside the territory of national-states. Many of these rather abstract issues are well illustrated by the work being done to create new private international standards for accounting and financial reporting. And they can be illustrated with the aggressively innovative deals launched by the major financial services firms in the last few years to sell what had often been considered unsaleable, or at least not gradable debt, and to ensure the continuing expansion of the financial markets. The International Accounting Standards Committee is an independent private-sector body which has been working intensely to create uniform standards to be used by business and government. It wants to bring these standards on line by 1999. In 1995 the International Organization of Securities Commission agreed to endorse the lASC’s standards and set March 1998 as the target date for completion of a body of international accounting standards. While this is a world of private actors and

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private standards, national states are crucial presences in the whole operation. IASC standards have now been accepted by all stock exchanges. The role of the new intermediaries is also revealed in the strategic work done by leading financial services firms in the wake of the Mexico financial crisis. It might be interesting to speculate to what extent this kind of “activism” towards ensuring growth in their industry will also be deployed in the case of the Asian countries now involved. The events following the Mexico crisis provide us with some interesting insights about these firms’ role in changing the conditions for financial operation, about the ways in which national states participated, and the formation of a new institutionalized intermediary space. J.P.Morgan worked with Goldman Sachs and Chemical Bank to develop several innovative deals that brought back investors to Mexico’s markets. Further, in July 1996, an enormous US$6–billion five-year deal that offered investors a Mexican floatingrate note or syndicated loan—backed by oil receivables from the state oil monopoly PEMEX - was twice oversubscribed. It became something of a model for asset-backed deals from Latin America, especially oil-rich Venezuela and Ecuador. The intermediaries worked with the Mexican government, but on their terms—this was not a government-to-government deal. This secured acceptability in the new institutionalized privatized intermediary space for cross-border transactions—evidenced by the high level of oversubscription and the high ratings. And it allowed the financial markets to grow on what had been a crisis. After the Mexico crisis and before the first signs of the Asian crisis, we see a large number of very innovative deals that contribute to further expand the volumes in the financial markets and to incorporate new sources of profit, that is, debts for sale. Typically these deals involved novel concepts of how to sell debt and what could be a saleable debt. Often the financial services firms structuring these deals also implemented minor changes in depository systems to bring them more in line with international standards. The aggressive innovating and selling on the world market of what had hitherto been thought to be too illiquid and too risky for such a sale further contributed to expand and strengthen the institutionalization of this intermediary space for cross-border transactions operating partly outside the inter-state system.13 Many of the negotiations necessary for the implementation of a global economy have to do with the creation of new business cultures and new consumer cultures. And they have to do with distinct ways of representing what is the “economy” and what is “culture”. In my reading of the evidence, economic globalization is encased in a broad range of cultural forms, typically not recognized in general commentaries (by the media) or in expert accounts as cultural, but rather seen as belonging to the world of expertise. For instance, international finance became an immensely creative practice in the 1980s, with many new, often daring instruments invented and the creation of several new markets. For this to succeed required not only state-of-the-art technological infrastructure and new types of expertise. It also required a very specific transnational subculture within which these innovations could circulate, be acceptable and be successful—that is, actually sold. We simply cannot take for

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granted the vast increase in the orders of magnitude of the financial markets and the variety of mechanisms through which forms of capital hitherto considered fixed (such as real estate) were made liquid (and hence could circulate globally). These massive innovations entailed a very significant set of negotiations in view of what had been the dominant banking culture. And it entailed a rather dramatic increase in the number of very young and very smart professionals who had command over both the maths and the computer/software knowledge required, and who at a far younger age than had been the norm in the industry gained significant control over vast amounts of capital. There is a bundle of sociological issues here: insider communities, trust, generational shifts, networks, the social construction of such conditions as expertise and technical outputs. These are part of the explanation, beyond narrowly economic and technical factors. Another important instantiation is the ascendance of a certain type of legal and accounting model as the “correct” one in global business transactions, basically Anglo-American in origin. This also entails a series of negotiations, some conceptual, some operational (e.g. locating Anglo-American firms in Paris or in Beijing, as is now happening), to handle cross-border business into and out of countries with very different legal and accounting systems. Again, there is a need here for detailed research on such operations—the need to recover the anthropology and the sociology of these aspects of economic globalization Place and work process in the global economy Each phase in the long history of the world economy raises specific questions about the particular conditions that make it possible. One of the key properties of the current phase, as discussed in the previous section, is the ascendance of information technologies, the associated increase in the mobility and liquidity of capital, and the resulting decline in the capacities of national states to regulate key sectors of their economies. This is well illustrated by the case of the leading information industries, finance and the advanced corporate services; these industries tend to have a space economy that is transnational and to have outputs that are hypermobile, moving instantaneously around the globe. The master images in the currently dominant account about economic globalization emphasize precisely these aspects: hypermobility, global communications, the neutralization of place and distance. There is a tendency in that account to take the existence of a global economic system as a given, a function of the power of transnational corporations and global communications. But the capabilities for global operation, coordination and control contained in the new information technologies and in the power of transnational corporations need to be produced. By focusing on the production of these capabilities we add a neglected dimension to the familiar issue of the power of large corporations and the new technologies. The emphasis shifts to the practices that constitute what we call economic globalization and global control: the work of producing and reproducing the organization and management of a global production system

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and a global marketplace for finance, both under conditions of economic concentration. A focus on practices draws the categories of place and production process into the analysis of economic globalization. These are two categories easily overlooked in accounts centred on the hypermobility of capital and the power of transnationals. Developing categories such as place and production process does not negate the centrality of hypermobility and power. Rather, it brings to the fore the fact that many of the resources necessary for global economic activities are not hypermobile and are, indeed, deeply embedded in place, notably places such as global cities and export processing zones. In this sense, I think of the mainstream account about economic globalization as a narrative of eviction. Key concepts in that account—globalization, information economy, and telematics—all suggest that place no longer matters and that the only type of worker that matters is the highly educated professional. It is an account that privileges the capability for global transmission over the material infrastructure that makes such transmission possible; information outputs over the workers producing those outputs, from specialists to secretaries; and the new transnational corporate culture over the multiplicity of work cultures, including immigrant cultures, within which many of the “other” jobs of the global information economy take place. In brief, the dominant narrative concerns itself with the upper circuits of capital; and particularly with the hypermobility of capital rather than with that which is place-bound. Massive trends towards the spatial dispersal of economic activities at the metropolitan, national and global level are indeed all taking place, but they represent only half of what is happening. Alongside the well-documented spatial dispersal of economic activities, new forms of territorial centralization of toplevel management and control operations have appeared. National and global markets as well as globally integrated operations require central places where the work of globalization gets done. Further, information industries require a vast physical infrastructure containing strategic nodes with hyperconcentrations of facilities. Finally, even the most advanced information industries have a work process—that is, a complex of workers, machines and buildings that are more place-bound and are more diversified in their labour inputs than the imagery of information outputs suggests. Centralized control and management over a geographically dispersed array of economic operations does not come about inevitably as part of a “world system”. It requires the production of a vast range of highly specialized services, telecommunications infrastructure, and industrial services. These are crucial for the valorization of what are today leading components of capital. A focus on place and work process displaces the focus from the power of large corporations over governments and economies to the range of activities and organizational arrangements necessary for the implementation and maintenance of a global network of factories, service operations, and markets. These are all processes only partly encompassed by the activities of transnational corporations and banks.

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One of the central concerns in my work has been to look at cities as production sites for the leading service industries of our time, and hence to recover the infrastructure of activities, firms, and jobs that is necessary to run the advanced corporate economy. The focus is on the practice of global control: the work of producing and reproducing the organization and management of a global production system and a global marketplace for finance, both under conditions of economic concentration (see Sassen 2001). This allows in turn a focus on the infrastructure of jobs involved in this production, including lowwage, unskilled manual jobs typically not thought of as being part of advanced globalized sectors. Global cities are centres for the servicing and financing of international trade, investment, and headquarter operations. That is to say, the multiplicity of specialized activities present in global cities are crucial in the valorization, indeed overvalorization, of leading sectors of capital today. And in this sense they are strategic production sites for today’s leading economic sectors. This function is reflected in the ascendance of these activities in their economies. Elsewhere (Sassen 2001, chapter 5) I have posited that what is specific about the shift to services is not merely the growth in service jobs but, most importantly, the growing service intensity in the organization of advanced economies: firms in all industries, from mining to wholesale, buy more accounting, legal, advertising, financial, economic forecasting services today than they did twenty years ago. Whether at the global or regional level, cities are adequate and often the best production sites for such specialized services. The rapid growth and disproportionate concentration of such services in cities signals that the latter have re-emerged as significant “production” sites after losing this role in the period when mass manufacturing was the dominant sector of the economy. Under mass manufacturing and fordism, the strategic spaces of the economy were the large-scale integrated factory and the government through its fordist/ keynesian functions. Further, the vast new economic topography that is being implemented through electronic space is one moment, one fragment, of an even vaster economic chain that is in good part embedded in non-electronic spaces. There is no fully dematerialized firm or industry. Even the most advanced information industries, such as finance, are installed only partly in electronic space. And so are industries that produce digital products, such as software designers. The growing digitalization of economic activities has not eliminated the need for major international business and financial centres and all the material resources they concentrate, from state-of-the-art telematics infrastructure to brain talent (Castells 1989; Graham and Marvin 1996; Sassen 2001).14 It is precisely because of the territorial dispersal facilitated by telecommunication advances that agglomeration of centralizing activities has expanded immensely. This is not a mere continuation of old patterns of agglomeration but, one could posit, a new logic for agglomeration. Many of the leading sectors in the economy operate globally, in uncertain markets, under conditions of rapid change in other countries (e.g. deregulation and

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privatization), and are subject to enormous speculative pressures. What glues these conditions together into a new logic for spatial agglomeration is the added pressure of speed. A focus on the work behind command functions, on the actual production process in the finance and services complex, and on global marketplaces has the effect of incorporating the material facilities underlying globalization and the whole infrastructure of jobs typically not marked as belonging to the corporate sector of the economy. An economic configuration emerges that is very different from that suggested by the information economy concept. We recover the material conditions, production sites, and place-boundedness that are also part of globalization and the information economy. And we recover the broad range of types of firms, types of workers, types of work cultures, types of residential milieus, that are also part of globalization processes, though never marked, recognized, or represented as such. Nor are they valorized as such. In this regard, the new urban economy is highly problematic. This is perhaps particularly evident in global cities and their regional counterparts. It sets in motion a whole series of new dynamics of inequality (Sassen 2000, chapter 5). The new growth sectors—specialized services and finance—contain capabilities for profit-making vastly superior to those of more traditional economic sectors. Many of the latter remain essential to the operation of the urban economy and the daily needs of residents, but their survival is threatened in a situation where finance and specialized services can earn superprofits and bid up prices. 15 Polarization in the profit-making capabilities of different sectors of the economy has always existed. But what we see happening today takes place on another order of magnitude and is engendering massive distortions in the operations of various markets, from housing to labour. We can see this effect, for example, in the retreat of many real estate developers from the low- and medium-income housing market in the wake of the rapidly expanding housing demand by the new highly paid professionals and the possibility for vast overpricing of this housing supply. What we are seeing is a dynamic of valorization which has sharply increased the distance between the valorized, indeed overvalorized, sectors of the economy and devalorized sectors, even when the latter are part of leading global industries. This devalorization of growing sectors of the economy has been embedded in a massive demographic transition towards a growing presence of women, African-Americans and “third world” immigrants in the urban workforce, a subject I return to later. We see here an interesting correspondence between great concentrations of corporate power and large concentrations of “others”. Large cities in the highly developed world are the terrain where a multiplicity of globalization processes assume concrete, localized forms. A focus on cities allows us to capture, further, not only the upper but also the lower circuits of globalization. These localized forms are, in good part, what globalization is about. We can then think of cities also as one of the sites for the contradictions of the internationalization of capital. If we consider, further, that large cities also concentrate a growing share of

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disadvantaged populations—immigrants in Europe and the United States, African-Americans and Latinos in the United States—then we can see that cities have become a strategic terrain for a whole series of conflicts and contradictions. A new geography of centrality and marginality The global economy materializes in a worldwide grid of strategic places, uppermost among which are major international business and financial centres. We can think of this global grid as constituting a new economic geography of centrality, one that cuts across national boundaries and across the old NorthSouth divide. It has emerged as a parallel political geography, a transnational space for the formation of new claims by global capital—one of the subjects of the first half of this chapter. The most powerful of these new geographies of centrality at the inter-urban level binds the major international financial and business centres: New York, London, Tokyo, Paris, Frankfurt, Zurich, Amsterdam, Los Angeles, Sydney, Hong Kong, among others. But this geography now also includes cities such as São Paulo, Buenos Aires, Bombay, Bangkok, Taipei and Mexico City. The intensity of transactions among these cities—particularly through the financial markets, transactions in services, and investment—has increased sharply, and so have the orders of magnitude involved. At the same time, there has been a sharpening inequality in the concentration of strategic resources and activities between each of these cities and others in the same country. The growth of global markets for finance and specialized services, the need for transnational servicing networks due to sharp increases in international investment, the reduced role of the government in the regulation of international economic activity and the corresponding ascendance of other institutional arenas, notably global markets and corporate headquarters—all these point to the existence of transnational economic processes with multiple locations in more than one country. We can see here the formation, at least incipient, of a transnational urban system. These cities are not simply in a relation of competition to each other. But also inside global cities we see a new geography of centrality and marginality. The downtowns of cities and key nodes in metropolitan areas receive massive investments in real estate and telecommunications, while lowincome city areas and the older suburbs are starved for resources. Highly educated workers see their incomes rise to unusually high levels, while low- or medium-skilled workers see theirs sink. Financial services produce superprofits, while industrial services barely survive. These trends are evident, with different levels of intensity, in a growing number of major cities in the developed world and increasingly in some of the developing countries that have been integrated into the global financial markets (Sassen 2000, chapter 2). The type of analysis presented above points to a space economy for major new transnational economic processes that diverges in significant ways from the global/national duality presupposed in much analysis of the global economy.

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Economic globalization does indeed extend the economy beyond the boundaries of the nation-state, and hence reduces the state’s sovereignty over its economy. At the same time we see the ascendance of subnational spaces, and hence possibly a new kind of importance associated with a certain type of local government. A focus on a strategic subnational unit such as is the global city illuminates these two conditions that are at opposite ends of the governance challenge posed by globalization and are not captured in the more conventional national/global duality. On the one hand, a focus on leading information industries in global cities introduces into the discussion of governance the possibility of capacities for regulation derived from the concentration of significant resources, including fixed capital, in strategic places at the subnational level, resources that are essential for participation in the global economy. The considerable placeboundedness of many of these resources contrasts with the hypermobility of information outputs. The regulatory capacity of the state stands in a different relation to hypermobile outputs than to the infrastructure of facilities, from fiberoptic-cable-served office buildings to specialized workforces, present in global cities. At the other extreme, the fact that many of these industries operate partly in electronic spaces raises questions of control that derive from key properties of the new information technologies, notably the orders of magnitude in trading volumes made possible by speed and the enormous connectivity of the global network. Here it is no longer just a question of the capacity of the state to govern these processes, but also of the capacity of the private sector, that is, of the major actors involved in setting up these markets in electronic space. Elementary and well-known illustrations of this issue of control are stock market crashes attributed to programme trading, and globally implemented decisions to invest or disinvest in a currency or an emerging market which resemble a sort of worldwide stampede facilitated by the fact of global integration and instantaneous execution worldwide.16 The specific issues about state authority raised by these two variables, i.e. place-boundedness and speed, are quite distinct from those typically raised in the context of the national-global duality. The transformation in the composition of the world economy, especially the rise of finance and advanced services as leading industries, is contributing to a new international economic order, one dominated by financial centres, global markets, and transnational firms. Correspondingly, we may see a growing significance of other political categories, both sub- and supra-national.17 Cities that function as international business and financial centres are sites for direct transactions with world markets that take place without government inspection, as for instance the euro-markets or New York City’s international financial zone (international banking facilities). These cities and the globally oriented markets and firms they contain mediate in the relation of the world economy to nationstates and in the relations among nation-states.18 In that regard they contribute to destabilize the hierarchy we have tended to accept as a given, going from the subnational to the national and on to the inter-national.

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Conclusion The process whereby national economies accommodate global firms and markets and supranational institutions is more complex than a simple relinquishing of state powers would indicate. Much of the literature on globalization fails to problematize this process. In the most extreme interpretations, deregulation and the declining significance of the state are seen as indicating that today’s global economy spells the end of national economic sovereignty. At the other extreme, quantitative studies that show the nonnational portion of national trade, investment and consumption to be very small posit that the global economy is not a significant factor for national economies. This chapter has sought to qualify both of these positions by showing that what is conceived of as a line separating the national from the global—or nonnational—is actually a zone where old institutions are modified, new institutions are created, and there is much contestation and uncertain outcomes. Analytically, it is a space that requires empirical and theoretical specification. Globalization, in this conception, does not only have to do with crossing geographic borders, as is captured in measures of international investment and trade. It also has to do with the relocation of national public governance functions to transnational private arenas and with the development inside national states—through legislative acts, court rulings, executive orders—of the mechanisms necessary to accommodate the rights of global capital in what are still national territories. Two important theoretical and political implications are: 1

2

that economic globalization has actually strengthened certain components of national states, notably those linked to international banking functions, such as ministries of finance, even as it has weakened many others; and that the spatiality of the global economic system is partly embedded in national settings, notably the specialized institutional orders disproportionately located in global cities.

The strategic spaces where many global processes are embedded are often national; the mechanisms through which new legal forms, necessary for globalization, are implemented are often part of state institutions; the infrastructure that makes possible the hypermobility of financial capital at the global scale is embedded in various national territories. These developments signal a transformation in the particular form of the articulation of sovereignty and territory that has marked the recent history of the modern state and interstate system, beginning with World War I and culminating in the Pax Americana period. One way of describing the specific process under way today is as the denationalizing of particular national institutional orders. Both through corporate practices and through the fragments of an ascendant new legal regime, certain institutional orders are being de-nationalized, though in specific and highly

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specialized fashion—as befits the tenor of this era. It is in this sense that globalization can be seen as having an impact on exclusive national territoriality rather than territory per se. This process of de-nationalization cannot be reduced to a geographic conception, as was the notion in the heads of the generals who fought the wars for nationalizing territory in earlier centuries. This is a highly specialized and strategic de-nationalizing of specific institutional arenas: Manhattan and the City of London are the equivalent of free trade zones when it comes to finance. But it is not Manhattan as a geographic entity, with all its layers of activity, and functions and regulations, that is a free trade zone. It is a highly specialized functional or institutional realm that becomes de-nationalized. However, this set of institutions has distinct locational patterns—a disproportionate concentration in global cities. And this has the effect of re-territorializing even the most globalized, digitalized and partly dematerialized industries and markets. But this re-territorializing has its own conditionality—a complex and dynamic interaction with national state authority. Notes 1 2 3

4

5

6 7

This is a revised and expanded version of an article published in Janet L.AbuLughod (ed.), 2000, Sociology for the Twenty-First Century: Continuities and cutting edges. University of Chicago Press and Russel Sage Foundation. See, for instance the debate with Peter J.Taylor in: Environment and Planning A, vol. 28 (1996), and Brenner (1997). There are parallels here with a totally different sphere of state activity and transnational processes: the role of national courts in implementing instruments of the international human-rights regime and the incorporation in several new national constitutions of provisions that limit the national state’s presumption to represent all its people in international fora (see, e.g., Franck 1992; Sassen 1996, chapter 3; and, generally, Henkin 1990). There is a parallel here between the institutionalizing of the rights of non-national economic actors with that of immigrants who have also gained rights—even though over the last few years some of those rights have been weakened in the US, e.g. in the new 1996 Welfare Act. See, e.g., Heisler 1986; Sassen 1998, chapter 2. There is a historically produced presumption of a unitary spatio-temporal concept of sovereignty and its exclusive institutional location in the national state. It leads to an analysis of economic globalization that rests on standard theories about sovereignty and national states and hence sees globalization as simply taking away from national states. If we recognize the historical specificity of this experience of sovereignty, it may be easier to allow for the possibility that certain components of sovereignty have under current conditions been relocated to supra- and subnational institutions, both governmental and non-governmental institutions, and both old and newly formed institutions. The proposition that I draw out of this analysis is that we are seeing processes of incipient de-nationalization of sovereignty—the partial detachment of sovereignty from the national state (see Sassen 1996, chapter 1). See Jessop’s (1990) work on the state, also the concept of global cities in Sassen 2001; for a historical account see Taylor 1995. The global city is a function of a network, and in this sense different from the old capitals of empires or the more general concept of the world city (see Sassen, 2001). The network of global cities today constitutes a strategic geography of centrality for

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the coordination and servicing of the global economy. It is a geography that cuts across the old North-South divide (it includes São Paulo and Bombay, for instance) and strengthens the territorial unevenness inside both developed and less-developed countries. The corporate worlds of São Paulo and of New York gain strength, power and wealth. The world of the middle class and of the working class loses in both cities (see Friedmann 1986 for an overview). 8 For concrete applications of these propositions see, e.g. Knox and Taylor 1995; Peraldi and Perrin 1996; Hitz et al. 1995; Social Justice 1993. A key aspect of the spatialization of global economic processes which I cannot develop here (but see Sassen 1998, chapter 9) is digital space. The topography for economic activities such as finance and specialized services moves in and out of digital space. However, at this time there is no purely and exclusively digital topography in any firm and in any sector. One of the interesting features about finance is that, though it is one of the most digitalized and dematerialized industries, when it hits the ground it does so in some of the largest and densest concentrations of infrastructure, structures and markets for resources. 9 There is an interesting parallel here with critical accounts that seek to establish the role of the government in autonomous markets. See, e.g., Paul 1994–5. 10 I cannot develop this subject here at length, but see Sassen 1996 and 1998, chapters 2 and 10. 11 The fact that this “solution” brought with it the bankruptcy of middle sectors of the economy and of households, who suddenly confronted interest rates that guaranteed their bankruptcy, was not factored in the equation. The key was to secure the confidence of “investors”—that is, to guarantee them a profitable return (and today “profitable” has come to mean very high returns). 12 The US$40–billion emergency loan package from the IMF and the US government and the hiring of Wall Street’s top firms to refurbish its image and find ways to bring it back into the market, helped Mexico “solve” its financial crisis. With J.P. Morgan as its financial adviser, the Mexican government worked with Goldman Sachs and Chemical Bank to come up with several innovative deals. The trade literature noted, at the time, that these innovations could change the face of other emerging markets— words that now ring with foresight. Goldman organized a US$1.75–billion Mexican sovereign deal in which the firm was able to persuade investors in May 1996 to swap Mexican Brady bonds collateralized with US Treasury bonds (Mexican Bradys were a component of almost any emerging market portfolio until the 1994 crisis) for a 30–year naked Mexican risk. This is, in my reading, quite a testimony to the aggressive innovations that characterize the financial markets and to the importance of a whole new subculture in international finance that facilitates the circulation—i.e. sale—of these instruments. (See Sassen 2001, chapter 7). 13 A few examples will illustrate the range of these transactions. Argentina, working with J.P. Morgan, got investors back to its markets through a US$250–million deal for Telecom Argentina. Nicaragua issued a bond backed by US treasury strips, purchased with the proceeds from the planned sale of the state telephone company. It was a success, with more demand than supply, which in turn led to a rising price. In Russia, Salomon Brothers figured out a way for foreign investors to buy the Russian Ministry of Finance bonds known as MinFins; these are high-yielding dollar-denominated domestic securities until recently controlled by Russian investors. Salomon Brothers repackaged MinFins into a euro-clearable asset that bypassed Russian custody and allowed access by foreign investors who are prohibited from buying assets that don’t meet US custody requirements. Again, they were a success and attracted far more foreign capital than expected. In Central Europe, Bankers Trust developed an instrument—Deutsche-mark-based certificates—allowing investors access into the rather illiquid markets of Czech Republic, Hungary and Poland. In Croatia, Union Bank of Switzerland helped the

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14

15

16

17

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first-ever float of shares by a Croatian company on the global capital market. It was twenty times oversubscribed. In Romania, Creditanstalt, with the European Bank for Reconstruction and Development coordinating, created a fund to sell majority shares in 550 companies—one-third of Romania’s GDP—to attract foreign investors. In China, besides the already mentioned 100–year bond organized by J.P.Morgan, Bear Stearns was the lead in organizing a US$540–million dual-listed equity to privatize China’s Guangshen Railways, which sold well in NY via ADRs. This deal was seen as stimulating China’s capital markets. Morocco reentered the international capital market in March 1996 after a 12–year absence, under the global coordination of IFC, jointly led by Nomura; this was Morocco’s first international equity issue. Demand was four times higher than the issue. These are just some of the transactions that show how the financial services firms, operating in their privatized world, succeeded in mobilizing new sources of capital and institutionalizing new forms of selling debt/investing. Legal services firms and accounting firms are the indispensable hand-maidens in these operations. Telematics and globalization have emerged as fundamental forces reshaping the organization of economic space. This reshaping ranges from the spatial visualization of a growing number of economic activities to the reconfiguration of the geography of the built environment for economic activity. Whether in electronic space or in the geography of the built environment, this reshaping involves organizational and structural changes. Elsewhere I have tried to show how these new inequalities in profit-making capacities of economic sectors, earnings capacities of households, and prices in upscale and downscale markets have contributed to the formation of informal economies in major cities of highly developed countries (see Sassen 1998, chapter 8). These informal economies negotiate between these new economic trends and regulatory frameworks that were engendered in response to older economic conditions. The space economy of leading information industries raises a very specific question of control and governance. In these industries, more so than in many others, a significant component of transactions and markets operates in electronic space which is not subject to conventional jurisdictions. The question of control and regulation being engendered by the electronic and telecommunications side of this new space economy lies beyond much of the discussion about the shrinking role of the state in a global economy. Once transactions are embedded in these new technologies, speed alone creates problems of control that are new and cannot be handled through conventional state-centred or non-state forms of authority. The most familiar case is that of the foreign currency markets, where volumes made possible by multiple transactions in a single day have left the existing institutional apparatus, notably the central banks, impotent to affect outcomes in these markets the way they once expected to. The space economy of these industries points to a reconfiguration of key parts of the governance debate: besides the matter of globalization extending the economy beyond the reach of the state, it is also a matter of control that goes beyond the issue of inter-organizational coordination that is at the heart of governance theory. Insofar as speed is one of the logics of the new information technologies it is not always in correspondence with the logic of the economic institutional apparatus represented by finance and advanced services (see Sassen 1996). In the three decades after World War II, the period of the Pax Americana, economic internationalization had the effect of strengthening the inter-state system. Leading economic sectors, especially manufacturing and raw materials extraction, were subject to international trade regimes that contributed to build the inter-state system. Individual states adjusted national economic policies to further this version of the world economy. Already, then, certain sectors did not fit comfortably under this

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largely trade-dominated inter-state regime: out of their escape emerged the euromarkets and off-shore tax havens of the 1960s. The breakdown of some of these aspects of the Bretton Woods system in the mid–1970s produced an international governance void filled by multinationals and global financial markets. Inside the state we see a further shift away from those agencies most closely tied to domestic social forces as was the case during the Pax Americana, and towards those closest to the transnational process of consensus formation. By the late 1980s we see concerted efforts to set up supranational and privatized governance mechanisms. I have worked with the concept “regulatory fracture” rather than, say, violation, in order to name a specific dynamic: to wit, that the materialization of global processes in a place often produces a regulatory void. One result is that both “regulation” and “violation” become problematic categories and, at the limit, do not apply. We might think of it analytically as a border-land, rather than a borderline—a terrain for action/ activity that remains underspecified, at least from the perspective of regulation.

Bibliography Aman,Jr., Alfred C., 1995: “A global perspective on current regulatory reform: Rejection, relocation, or reinvention?” In: Indiana Journal of Global Legal Studies, vol. 2, pp. 429– 464 Basch, Linda, Nina Glick Schiller, and Cristina Szanton-Blanc, 1994: Nations Unbound: Transnationalized projects and the deterritorialized nation-state. New York: Gordon & Breach Brenner, Neil, 1997: “Global, fragmented, hierarchical: Henri Lefebvre’s geographies of globalization”. In: Public Culture, vol. 10 (1), pp. 135–167 Castells, Manuel, 1989: The Informational City. Oxford: Blackwell Franck, Thomas M., 1992: “The emerging right to democratic governance”. In: American Journal of International Law, vol. 86/1, pp. 46–91 Friedmann, John, 1986: “The world city hypothesis”. In: Development and Change, 17, pp. 69–84 Graham, S. and S.Marvin, 1996: Telecommunications and the City: Electronic spaces, urban places. London: Routledge Grasmuck, Sherri and Patricia Pessar, 1991: Between Two Islands: Dominican international migration. Berkeley: University of California Press Heisler, Martin, 1986: “Transnational migration as a small window on the diminished autonomy of the modern democratic state”. In: Annals (American Academy of Political and Social Science), no. 485 (May), pp. 153–166 Henkin, Louis, 1990: The Age of Rights. New York: Columbia University Press Hitz, Hansrudi, Ute Lehrer and Roger Keil, (eds), 1995: Capitales Fatales. Zurich: Rotpunkt Verlag Jessop, Robert, 1990: State Theory: Putting capitalist states in their place. University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press Knox, Paul L. and Peter.J.Taylor (eds), 1995: World Cities in a World-System. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press Kratochwil, Friedrich, 1986: “Of systems, boundaries and territoriality”. In: World Politics, vol. 34 (Oct.) Mahler, Sarah, 1995: American Dreaming: Immigrant life on the margins. Princeton: Princeton University Press Mittelman, James (ed.), 1996: Globalization: Critical Reflections. International Political Economy Yearbook IX. Boulder: Lynne Rienner Publishers Paul, Joel R., 1994–5: “Free Trade, regulatory competition, and the autonomous market fallacy”. In: Columbia Journal of European Law, I, no. I (Fall/Winter), pp. 29–62

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Peraldi, Michel and Evelyne Perrin (eds), 1996: Réseaux productifs et territoires urbains. Toulouse: Presses Universitaires du Mirail Pessar, Patricia, 1995: “On the homefront and in the workplace: Integrating immigrant women into feminist discourse”. In: Anthropological Quarterly, vol. 68/1, pp. 37–47 Rosen, Fred and Deirdre McFadyen (eds), 1995: Free Trade and Economic Restructuring in Latin America (A NACLA Reader). New York: Monthly Review Press Ruggie, John Gerard, 1993: “Territoriality and beyond: Problematizing modernity in international relations”. In: International Organization, vol. 47/1, pp. 139–174 Salacuse, Jeswald, 1991: Making Global Deals: Negotiating in the international marketplace. Boston: Houghton Mifflin Sassen, Saskia, 1996: Losing Control? Sovereignty in an age of globalization, the 1995 Columbia University Leonard Hastings Schoff Memorial Lectures. New York: Columbia University Press ——, 1998: Globalization and its Discontents. Essays on the Mobility of Money and People. New York: New Press ——, 2000: Cities in a World Economy. Thousand Oaks: Pine Forge/Sage Press (new updated edition) ——, 2001: The Global City: New York, London, Tokyo. Princeton: Princeton University Press Shapiro, Martin, 1993: “The globalization of law”. In: Indiana Journal of Global Legal Studies, I (Fall), pp. 37–64 Smith, Robert, 1998: “Transnational localities: community, technology and the politics of membership within the context of Mexico and US migration”. In: Smith, Michael P., (ed.) Transnationalism from Below. New Brunswick: Transaction Publishing, pp. 196–238 Taylor, Peter J., 1995: “World cities and territorial states: The rise and fall of their mutuality”. In: Paul L.Knox and Peter J.Taylor (eds), World Cities in a World-System. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, pp. 48–62 Walker, R.B.J., 1993: Inside/Outside: International relations as political theory. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press

Index

African-Americans 102, 199 agglomeration 198–9 Albrow, Martin 14, 17 Aldrich, H.E. 123 Amnesty International 179–80 Anderson, Benedict 19, 94, 98–9 Apple Computer (company) 119 archipelagos 10–11 area/regional studies 29, 188 Argentina 190 Asea Brown Boveri 166, 170–1 Asian financial crises (1997–98) 190, 193 assimilation 40–1, 100 Association of South-East Asian Nations (ASEAN) 27 asymptotic stability 39, 51 authority relations 166–7, 170–3, 181 automobile industry 147–57, 172 autonomy: of local management 170–1; of subsidiaries 138; of transnational organizations 27, 164 Bartlett, C. 166 Basch, Linda 17–18 BASF (company) 161–2 Bayer (company) 157–9 Blanc-Szanton, Cristina 17 BMW (Bayerische Motoren Werke) 147, 154–6 Bourdieu, Pierre 19 Braudel, Fernand 11, 14 Brazil 135–6, 139 bricoleurs 104 capital markets 200 capitalism 11, 20

Cárdenas, Cuahutémoc 65 Castells, Manuel 14 Catholic Church 6, 23, 52 central banks 190–1, 193 Chemical Bank 195 chemical industry 147, 156–62 Chernobyl 5 China 179, 194 Chinese transnationalism 19–20 cities 200; see also global cities citizenship: as distinct from nationality 67; extraterritorial 59; as practice rather than status 62; renunciation of 97; types of 25, 62–3, 67–72 citizenship practices 59–72, 97 civilization complexes 10 Clay county (Minnesota) 46–51 “closed corporate peasant communities” 43 coaching 116–17 code termination rights 153 collective belonging 99 communications infrastructure 115–16; see also face-to-face communication consensus decision-making 169–70, 177–8 “container” societies 4–7, 11, 15–18, 22, 28, 103, 187 corporate culture 27, 117, 137, 140, 143, 168–9 cultural capital 95, 141 cultural differences 178–9 cultural matrices 10–11 cultural relations within organizations 167–70; see also corporate culture culture, reification of 103–4

209

210

Index

Daimler-Benz (company) 166, 168 decentralization of business operations 137–8, 170–1, 181 denationalization of national institutional orders 202–3 deregulation 191–4, 202 Deutschmann,J.A. 124 diasporas 10–11, 23, 38, 41, 65–6, 98, 100 Durkheim, Emile 8, 13, 15, 49 Edwards, P. 166–7, 170 Einstein, Albert 15 Elias, Norbert 8 e-mail 120, 129 employee representatives 156–62 episodic analysis 123–4 Espinosa, K. 19 ethnic identity 105–6 ethnocentrism 141, 143, 169 Eurocentrism 11 European Commission 147 European Union 4, 17, 27, 164 European works councils 26–7, 146–56, 159–60 expatriate managers 141, 169 face-to-face communication 120–3, 126, 131, 178 families, transnational 78–91 feminist scholarship 62 Ferner,A. 166–7, 170 financial services industry 194–6, 200–1 Ford Motors (company) 147 Foucault, Michel 4 fragmentation, organizational 182 Gastarbeiter 96–7 gendered relations 59–65, 69–72 General Motors (company) 147, 149–51 Germany 25, 118, 169; global companies based in 134–5, 138–43; industrial relations in 145–9, 153–7, 160;migration from Turkey to 94–107 Ghoshal, S. 166, 171 Giddens, Anthony 8–9, 13, 22 Glick Schiller, Nina 17 global cities 5, 14, 20, 141–2, 192, 197–203 global companies 139, 143 globalization 5, 9, 13–14, 17, 22–3, 27, 29, 107, 128–31, 136–7, 145–6, 162–3, 165– 8, 173, 187–203; practices of 197–9 Goethe-Institutes 140 Goldman Sachs 195 Goldring, Luin 19 Good Templars 49–50

governance systems 181, 194, 202 Greenpeace 174–80 Gregory, Derek 13,29 Griego, Garcia y 65 Guarnizo, Luis Eduardo 20–1 Harper Collins Dictionary of Sociology 8 Harvey, David 14 “Hausmacht” 160 Herman, R.D. 175 hierarchical management 170–1 Hillmann, F. 169 hip-hop culture 101–2 Hirsch-Kreinsen, H. 169–70 Hobbes, Thomas 4 Hoechst (company) 15 7–61 hours of work 122 Hübl, G. 123 Hübner, K. 146 human geography 13 human resource management 139–40, 142, 168 human rights 4 Huntington, Samuel P. 10 hybridity 90, 101–7 passim identity, “claiming” of 102–3 Indonesia 190 information economy, the 199 information industries 196–8, 201 information systems 171 internal competition 172–3 International Accounting Standards Committee (IASC) 194–5 international companies 8, 26–7 International Monetary Fund (IMF) 21, 191, 193 International Organization of Securities Commission 194 internationalization 147–8, 166 intertwined organizations 117 Isanti county (Minnesota) 46–51 J.P.Morgan (company) 194–5 “Kanake” concept 101 Kant, Immanuel 12–13 Kearney, Michael 96 Kirsch, Scott 14 Kjellberg, Isidor 48 Kurke, L.B. 123 labour relations 145–9 Landolt, Patricia 6

Index

leadership styles 117, 120; see also management styles Leibniz, Gottfried 15 Lewis, Martin W. 9–10 Lister, Ruth 62 local-level processes, significance of 38 London, City of 203 Longbridge plant 155–6 loyalty to the company 139–42 Luhmann, Niklas 12–13, 28 Lutheran church 46–7, 49, 52 Macdonald, Sharon 103 McDonaldization 5, 165 Mahler, Sarah J. 21 Malaysia 190, 193 management processes 116–18, 123, 131 management styles 167, 169 Marcus, George 29 Marshall, Thomas H. 62 Massey, D. 19 matrix form of organization 169 “media paradox” 130–1 Mercedes-Benz (company) 147, 151–4 Mercosur 27, 136 Mexico 18, 24–5, 37–8, 42, 51, 59–72, 78– 9, 85, 88–90; economic crisis (1994) 193, 195 Mexico City 83 “middle ground” 10–11 migration 17–25, 39, 42, 50–1, 77, 188;circular flows of 64; “ideal types” of 78; Turkish-German 94; see also return migration Mintzberg, Henry 118, 121–3 mission statements 167–8 modularization of organization structures 115–17 Muslim fundamentalism 106 nation-states 4–5, 15–17, 20, 22, 27, 145, 187–96, 201–2 “national” and “international” transactions 191, 202 national units of globally-operating organizations 177–9 nationalism 63 Nelson, Benjamin 10 network structures 115–17 new international economic order 201 New York 24–5, 37, 39, 42–5, 52–4, 78, 86–90, 201, 203 nomadic managers 125; see also expatriate managers

211

non-governmental organizations (NGOs) 27 Nonini, Donald 19 non-profit organizations (NPOs) 173– 82;transnational communities in 180–1 North American Trade Agreement (NAFTA) 27, 38, 65 oligopolization 137 Ong, Aihwa 19 Opel (company) 147, 149–50 organizational innovation 115–16 Ostergren, Robert 38–9, 46–53 participation in transnational action 41 patriarchy 71 Perlmutter, H. 166, 170 personal contacts 138; see also face-to-face communication polarization of economic sectors 199–200 popular culture 95, 98, 103, 107 Portes, Alejandro 6 “post-peasants” 96, 104 power relations 167, 176 Pries, L. 78, 172 privatization: of governance systems 194, 202; of public sector firms 191–2 Programa para las Comunidades Mexicanas en el Extranjero (PCME) 66, 69 quasi-markets 172–3, 181 Rattvik 39–41, 46–54 reciprocity 94–102, 107 religion 44; see also Catholic Church;Lutheran church remittances 68, 96 Renz, D.O. 175 restaurant work 87–8 return migration 40, 48–9, 52–4, 78, 97 Robertson, Roland 14 Rosaldo, Renato 62 Ross Pineda, Raúl 68–9 Rover (company) 154–6 Rudolph, H. 169 Russia 169, 174 ruteros 88–9 Saint’s Day festivities 83 sales as a value-adding function 138 Salinas, President 66 Schild, Veronica 62 Schreyögg, G. 123 second-generation migrants 45, 48, 53–4, 94–5, 98, 105–6

212

Index

service industries 198–201 shared ideologies and values 175–6, 178, 180 Siemens AG 119 Siemens Rolm Communications 119 Simmel, Georg 14–15 Smith, Michael Peter 20–1 Smith, Robert 18 social class distinctions 104–6 social fields 17–18 social integration 181–2 social life, transnationalized 44 social networks 46, 87, 91, 107 social partnership 158, 161 social spaces 15–17; definition of 21–2; deterritorialized 18; “stacked” 5–6; see also transnational social spaces socialization 140 society, concept and definition of 8–9, 12 sociology 13, 28–9 sovereignty 4, 189, 202 spaces, concept of 15–16; see also social spaces Streeck,W. 147 structural-functionalist bias 11 subsidiaries 138–40 supranational organizations 4, 174, 191 sweatshops 86–7 Sweden 24, 37–9, 46–52 syncretic adaptation 51–2 telemanagement 116–17 telemedia 122–3, 126; autocratic and cooperative use of 126–31 temperance movement 49–50 territorial bias 165 territoriality 4, 187–92, 202 Tertilt, Hermann 106 top managers 118–31, 138–42, 160– 1;mobility of 124–5, 129–30 Toynbee, Arnold 9–11 transmigrant organizations 64–72 passim transnational communities 18–19, 64, 174, 180–2 transnational companies 17, 21, 27, 166–73, 180–1 transnational families 78–91 transnational issues 173 transnational life 24–5, 37–54; definition of 37–8 transnational organizations 164–6, 179

transnational social spaces 5–12, 94–5, 173–4, 180–1; concepts of 17–29, 77;deterritorialization of 99–100; disaggregation of 59–64; families in 85, 89–91; global capital in 200;governance functions in 202; management processes in 134–5, 139–43; occupational cultures in 182;organizations in 164–5 transnationalism 17, 39–40, 62–3; bottomup form of 64; Chinese 19–20;concepts of 6; definition of 18–19 transnationalization: of employee representation 146, 162; of state-society relations 59 “transplanted” communities 46–8, 51 Turkey 25, 135–6, 139, 143; migration to Germany from 94–107 United Nations 4, 17, 21, 174 United States 135 upward mobility 105–6 Urry, John 13, 29 vacation trips by ex-migrants 97, 99 Vertovec, Steven 6 virtual organizations 116–17, 169 Volkswagen (company) 147–9 voting rights 69 Wallerstein, Immanuel 11 Waters, Malcolm 14 Weber, Max 4 Werbner, Pnina 104, 106 Westphalia, Peace of 3–4 White, Jenny 97 Wigen, Kären 9–10 worker participation 149–50 works councils 151, 158–61; see also European works councils world civilization theories 9–11 world society theories 9, 12–13, 28 world system theories 9, 11–12, 28, 197 World Trade Organization (WTO) 174, 194 Wyman, Mark 40, 48 Zacatecas 59, 66, 71 Zaimoglu, Feridun 101 Zedillo, President 66–7