Who Really Deserves The Italian Citizenship?
Identity, Descent, Referendum, and New Belonging
This article was originally published in Italian as newsletter issue #75 of “Esco Quando Voglio” written by our editor-in-chief Matteo Cerri.
Between historical emigration, new waves of migration, consular opportunism, and a sense of belonging: why today it is necessary to redefine what it means to be an Italian citizen, both inside and beyond national borders.
The Registry of Italians Residing Abroad (AIRE) lists over 6 million registered Italian citizens. A significant number that tells a story of mobility, roots, and in many cases, deep connections with Italy. But this figure alone doesn’t explain everything. In recent decades, it’s true that first-generation Italian emigration has grown again. Many Italians, like myself, have left the country for professional, family, or educational reasons. Yet, a large portion of those 6 million are not “Italians” in the strict sense: they are mostly people who, especially in South America, acquired Italian citizenship through distant ancestry.
It’s enough to compare current migratory flows with the number of AIRE registrations in certain countries to understand that in many cases these are Italians by heritage, not by experience. Not by birth, not by having lived in Italy, not by contributing to its civil or economic life. And yet, they hold a powerful passport that allows them to enter Europe, perhaps settle in Spain, Germany, or Portugal, and even, eventually, in Italy. That’s why the Italian passport is attractive. The same appeal exists, though to a lesser extent, among descendants in North America, Australia, and more recently, the UK.
The limitations introduced by Legislative Decree No. 36 of 2025, approved by the Council of Ministers, must be viewed in this context. This decree—highly contested by certain political sectors—restricted automatic recognition of Italian citizenship by descent (ius sanguinis) to only the second generation born abroad (which, frankly, is already generous). For all others, a formal application will be necessary, along with verifiable Italian language skills and proof of connection to the country. As an immigrant abroad for nearly thirty years, but in constant and meaningful contact with Italy, I consider this a completely reasonable step. What’s pitiful is watching certain political factions pretend to care.
It’s not altruism or a sense of justice that drives them: many don’t actually care about Italians abroad. The protests come from parties that, every election, try to gather votes from these “Italians” who often don’t know the country, the language, or the culture. Unsurprisingly, MAIE—a movement born in South America and aligned with the ruling majority—voted against the decree, along with the left, which historically gathers overseas votes, sometimes through questionable means.
I have always been a firm supporter of real representation for Italians abroad, but a representation based on real ties, not vague memories or folkloristic caricatures. Requiring people to actively register in order to vote would be a basic start. It’s absurd that today political rights are granted to individuals who don’t even know that the Leaning Tower of Pisa is not in Rome. And the understandable skepticism of Italians in Italy toward these “compatriots” ends up affecting even those of us who emigrated more recently and remain deeply engaged. We must defend our identity, without closing ourselves off. Italian citizenship is an honor—not a passport souvenir. It’s a responsibility. It should be reserved for those with a clear connection: born in Italy or with at least one Italian parent. Even with grandparents, if one has never lived in Italy, I would be more restrictive.
At the same time, we must open up to those who live Italy, choose it, and help build it. Those born or raised in our country, who went to our schools, work here, speak the language, pay taxes, start families—these new Italians fully deserve citizenship. They have already shown they belong, much more than the great-grandchild of an uncle who emigrated to Rosario in 1912. In this sense, the referendum scheduled for June 8–9, 2025, is a crucial moment: it proposes reducing from 10 to 5 years the minimum period of legal residence required to apply for citizenship through naturalization. A civil and fair proposal.
Parliament’s positions are clear: the right-wing (Fratelli d’Italia, Lega, Forza Italia) calls for abstention, while the center-left, Radicals, +Europa, Possibile, PSI, and various civic groups support a “Yes” vote. But beyond political alignments, the core issue remains: do we want a citizenship that rewards diluted bloodlines, or one that recognizes a real journey? The ius sanguinis vs. ius soli debate cannot be reduced to slogans. It must be grounded in practicality and reality.
Our consular system, for example, should be strengthened to maintain relationships with those who are genuinely connected to Italy: first or second-generation emigrants, families still immersed in our culture. It should not be distracted by requests from those whose only link to Italy is a grandparent’s story—and who might not even be able to form a full sentence in Italian. It’s like granting citizenship to Super Mario just because he says, “It’s me, Mario” in a fake Italian accent. A caricature.
By contrast, there are people who arrive in Italy, choose to stay, invest, integrate, repopulate abandoned areas, and perform jobs many Italians no longer want. These citizens are a precious resource, deserving of respect and thoughtful integration. Yet we persist in judging people by skin color or country of origin: the Italian-American gets a pass, the Ethiopian doesn’t. We’re experts at inventing pseudoracial logic. If someone comes from a rich country and already has a strong passport, they’re welcomed. If they come from a poor country, they’re not. This double standard is unworthy of a modern democracy.
I’ve worked for years on the relationship between Italians abroad and new Italians. Our project, “ITS Journal,” tells these stories—real lives, mixed identities, difficult choices. But it carries with it a clear belief: shortcuts do not serve our country. They don’t enrich our culture, nor strengthen our sense of community. They may occasionally serve political interests or social-media virtue signaling. But Italy doesn’t need excuses—it needs truth, participation, and respect for those who contribute to society.
This is not a bureaucratic or partisan issue. It’s a matter of vision. Of identity. Of the future. Who we are, who we want to be, and who we want to recognize and trust. Italy is made by those who love it, know it, live it, and respect it. Citizenship laws reflect our sense of justice and belonging. Changing them, improving them, aligning them with reality is not an attack—it’s a responsibility. Because being Italian must return to having real meaning. Not symbolic. Not opportunistic. But deeply genuine.
I know I’ve touched on sensitive issues for many of you who read me weekly, and I’d be grateful for your honest thoughts and comments.