Newlyweds have to provide a whole pile of documents to confirm the authenticity of the marriage
Leaving Britain to work in Singapore, I took only a backpack. I wasn't planning to stay long – I just needed to earn some money to pay off debts and gain experience, thereby increasing my chances of finding a job back home. But, as it happens, abroad I met my soulmate. Now I have a husband, a nine-year-old child, a house and a car, but I live not in London, but in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia.
Today, more and more young people are going abroad to study and work, and people who would never have known of each other's existence before the internet are actively meeting online. The result is a rise in the number of marriages between people of different nationalities – a cause for concern for migration services, which create restrictive and often opaque procedures that prevent newlyweds from living and working in the same country, let alone obtaining citizenship.
Based on data obtained in 2010 from 30 countries, the statistical office of the European Union (Eurostat) calculated that every 12th marriage in Europe is between people of different nationalities. In Switzerland, every fifth marriage falls into this category, in Britain – every 11th, and in Romania such cases are very few. In Australia in 2014, mixed marriages accounted for almost a third of all weddings.
In Singapore, 2014 was a record year – such a number of marriages had not been seen in the country since 1997, while the share of unions between citizens of different countries rose from 23% in 2003 to 37% in 2014. And the US Census Bureau announced that, according to 2011 data, in 21% of American families at least one spouse was born outside the country.
A thorny path to happiness
Singaporean journalist Kirsten Han met her future husband Calum Stuart in Britain, where she was studying for a postgraduate degree. They married in 2014 near his hometown in Scotland. Neither relatives nor friends even suspected what bureaucratic hurdles they would have to overcome just to live together.
"A lot of things seem taken for granted," Han said by phone from Singapore, where she now lives with her husband. "Everyone kept saying, 'Once you get married, everything will work out!' We were horrified when we realized what actually awaited us."
Britain as a permanent place of residence was out of the question: in 2012, the government introduced new income threshold rules aimed at eradicating, as officials put it, sham marriages. According to the new requirements, a British citizen sponsoring a spouse who is not a citizen of any EU country must have an annual income of at least £18,600 or additional savings of £60,000 if there are children. These rules, according to their opponents, have caused many families to communicate only via Skype, and some citizens have even found themselves in exile.
Han and Stuart decided to move to Singapore, where spouses of citizens are usually issued a one-year visa with the right to work. The newlyweds hoped they could live together, but it turned out not to be so simple. "It's so exhausting!" Han complained. "Why should I have to put in so much effort for my husband to live with me in my own country?"
Change of course
Despite many states pursuing economic policies that promote globalization, making transnational marriages inevitable, young couples like Han and Stuart, as well as people married for many years, have unexpectedly become victims of stricter migration rules. "States are increasingly emphasizing so-called managed migration in an attempt to extract maximum economic benefit from this phenomenon, but existing forms of control over the movement of people between countries raise many questions," writes Dr. Elena Charsley, a research fellow at the University of Bristol (UK). Spouses of foreigners are chosen by the heart, "not based on their qualifications to eliminate labor shortages in a particular sector of the economy."
European states set their own rules. The Netherlands introduced an "integration exam for foreign citizens," which tests knowledge of the language and culture of the country. Britain has a similar practice, and Denmark has a "joint affiliation" rule: spouses must prove that their attachment to Denmark is stronger than to the foreign spouse's homeland; indicators of such attachment are time spent in each country and level of proficiency in Danish.
In the United States, where migration policy is one of the main points of election campaigning, newlyweds have to provide a whole pile of documents to confirm the authenticity of the marriage and obtain a temporary residence permit ("green card") for a period of two years, after which they can apply for permanent residence.
Rod and bait
In another country, at first glance, it is easy to settle, but to legalize your stay there on a permanent basis as a spouse of a citizen of that state can take years.
In Malaysia, as in Singapore, spouses of citizens are issued a one-year visa. After five years, they can apply for permanent residency, which gives the right to engage in professional activities for doctors and other specialists, and also allows them to take out loans, start a business, and buy a home. However, the timeframe for granting permanent residency is not regulated in any way. Since 2008, persons living in the country on a spousal visa are allowed to work, but this requires additional permission from the immigration service and a job offer from an employer.
Bina Ramanand, who came to Malaysia from India in 1992 to live with her husband, was initially able to stay in the country because she found a job in Kuala Lumpur that gave her the right to a foreign specialist visa. She was issued a spousal visa a few years later, when such a possibility was introduced in the country, but her right to obtain permanent residency was only recognized in 2007. It cost her so many nerves that she almost returned to India.
“I gave up hope of getting permanent residency,” says Ramanand, who finally received the coveted stamp in 2013 and now heads the Foreign Spouses Support Group in Malaysia. “I thought that by the time it was finally issued to me, I would no longer be alive.”
For the sake of love
37-year-old computer network specialist Robert Pedren came to Malaysia in 2012 and has already experienced grief with the immigration service. He was determined to meet Carrie, a 41-year-old resident of Penang who worked as a recruitment consultant and captured his heart on Facebook. Carrie planned to come to his university graduation in San Diego (USA), but she was denied a visa. After that, he decided to fly to her in Malaysia himself, and in the end, he stayed there. In April 2014, six years after meeting online, the couple got married.
“I knew we were made for each other,” says Pedren. “There are 7 billion people on this planet, and my soulmate turned out to be 8,800 miles away from me.”
He has now received his second long-term visa, but still cannot find a job because many employers do not understand that spouses of citizens can legally work and try not to hire them. Opening a bank account, buying a car, and everything else Pedren took for granted in the USA is fraught with difficulties here. He started a blog about his misadventures but does not regret moving at all.
“If I could go back to 2012 knowing everything I know now, I would be ready to go through it all again,” he assures. He advises other couples to familiarize themselves with the rules in force in the country where they plan to settle, take care of obtaining all necessary documents, and not lose patience. “For true love, there are no barriers,” he says.
Specialists get the green light
Despite all the bureaucratic obstacles that foreign citizens face in connection with marriage, many countries gladly accept highly qualified foreign specialists. “The brightest and the best,” as then British Home Secretary Theresa May said in 2010, announcing the introduction of a stricter immigration policy.
Malaysia is also beginning to open its doors wider to professionals. In 2011, by a government decree, a special 10-year visa was introduced: it allows those specialists who have already worked in the country for three years as an expat with a monthly income of more than 12,000 Malaysian ringgit to work anywhere (their spouses are also given this opportunity). Since its introduction, 4,000 people have received this visa, including foreign spouses (including me).
Spouses of highly qualified Malaysians returning from abroad after many years under a specialist attraction program are also granted permanent residency within six months. About one-fifth of the 3,700 people who have taken the risk of returning so far are married to a foreign citizen.
“As we have seen in many countries, immigration policy is shaped according to the economic situation,” says Johan Mahmood Merican, coordinator of specialist attraction programs as head of the government agency TalentCorp, who is married to a Singaporean citizen. “If people have the necessary skills, we will definitely provide assistance. Spouses will always be offered benefits. The state recognizes the status of a foreign citizen married to a Malaysian citizen.”
More transparency, please!
It can be said that in Malaysia, the procedure for obtaining permanent residency is surprisingly opaque. In many other countries, even where it is necessary to present a huge number of documents and pass language and culture exams, applicants are clearly explained the entire process and informed of the likely processing time.
Despite the assurances of a Talent Corp official that spouses will be given benefits, the uncertainty associated with immigration status raises questions for many about how much they can feel at home in their homeland. “And people suffer!” laments Ramanand. “The Malaysian citizen spouse and his children — the whole family suffers.”