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IDENTITY

June date set for immigrant ID cards

Immigrants to Sweden will likely have to wait at least another six months before being able to receive Swedish national identification cards from the Swedish Tax Agency (Skatteverket).

June date set for immigrant ID cards

“Our goal is to have a secure card available for people registered as living in Sweden by June 1st,” the Tax Agency’s Anna-Lena Österborg told The Local.

In September, the government announced that the Tax Agency would assume responsibility for issuing Swedish ID cards, and since early October Österborg has been leading the agency’s efforts to implement the new mandate.

“It entails creating a whole new infrastructure,” she said.

“There’s not one single challenge we need to overcome. Rather, it’s about taking on an important and exciting new assignment.”

When pressed for specifics about the new cards, which would be issued to non-Swedes with a personal identity number (personnummer), Österborg had little to offer regarding practical details.

“It’s still early in the process for us,” she said.

“We’re talking to the banks and negotiating with suppliers. At this stage, many of the practical decisions have yet to be taken.”

Österborg empathized with the plight of immigrants and foreigners living in Sweden in their quest to acquire a Swedish identity card, but emphasized that her agency won’t be issuing cards before June.

Until then, non-Swedes must instead continue to try their luck at Sweden’s major banks, currently the only outlet available for them to acquire a Swedish ID card.

But banks’ lack of a uniform policy regarding who exactly is eligible to receive a bank-issued identity card remains a major irritant to foreigners living in Sweden.

“It seems as if we’re just being ignored by the authorities,” said Naresh Shenoy, an Indian national who has been living and working in Sweden for the past year.

Shenoy tried unsuccessfully to acquire an ID card through Swedbank and was disappointed to learn that he’d have to wait until June for the chance to get a card from the Tax Agency.

“I’m really surprised because Sweden is generally an advanced country, so I can’t understand why it would take so long to deal with this flaw in the system,” he said.

While she couldn’t say for sure whether or not the agency would meet the agreed upon June 1st deadline, Österborg was optimistic.

However, she emphasized repeatedly that assuming responsibility for issuing ID cards represents an entirely new activity for the agency.

“It involves settling on the technical and security specifications, training our staff, and pursuing a dialogue with other agencies and organizations involved,” she said.

“What’s important is making sure the card is secure so that staff at banks and other agencies will be confident in the identity of those who present the cards.”

The autumn budget bill included a one-time infusion of 21 million kronor to help Skatteverket develop the capability to issue ID cards, as well as an additional 10 million kronor annually to fund the new mandate in the future.

In a response issued back in March 2008 to a government consultation on the ID card issue, the tax agency said it would need 65 million kronor a year if it were to take over the issuing of Swedish identity cards to immigrants.

At the time, the agency said it would make more sense for the police, which issue identity cards to Swedish citizens, to provide non-Swedes with ID cards as well.

Österborg said it was too early to know whether or not the planned appropriation would be sufficient, noting that the Tax Agency hasn’t even completed negotiations with a card supplier and thus can’t estimate the ultimate costs of the new programme.

“At this point we plan to adhere to the current level of funding,” she said.

She added that that as the June 1st date approaches, the Tax Agency plans to issue information about the new ID cards in several other languages, including English, to help inform people about what to expect with the new system.

EUROPE

‘I’m a proud European’: Pakistani-born German on identity as Brexit looms

At a crossroads due to Brexit, Pakistani-born German national Anam Hussain who lives in the UK discusses identity in uncertain times.

'I'm a proud European': Pakistani-born German on identity as Brexit looms
Anam Hussain displaying her passport, and dual identities. Photo courtesy of Anam Hussain.

As the Brexit fog thickens, it reduces the visibility of my sense of identity. I have become a disconnected decoration floating upon a mist.

SEE ALSO: 'We must learn from this': The German view on 'Brexit chaos'

Carrying with me nothing, but a folder containing three documents – a creased Pakistani Birth Certificate, a German passport with a faded cover, and an unsettled UK Permanent Residence card. I am a drop in a cascade of thousands of European citizens, all rushing towards the EU settlement scheme.

Despite having lived in the United Kingdom for 20 years, having obtained all my qualifications, employment, and holding a UK driving licence, I must now follow the same procedure as all the European newbies.

Why?

Just to digitally clarify my position in these uncertain times? To provide evidence of me being me? Now, an Android technology app will be used to verify whether I'm human? I find it ever so insulting. There's the feeling that you belong to a certain group in a country where your status should already be guaranteed.  I have lived enough years, my residence status should be well understood by all the authorities.

But, I am told that to continue living in the UK, I have two options. I must either apply for the EU Settlement Scheme or for citizenship. That phrase, 'to continue living in the UK,' or otherwise…? Is a phrase so elitist and discriminatory that it begs the question of personal identity. It applies to my survival in the future as well as my existence in the past. What am I? When did I begin?

Childhood memories of Dessau

Born in 1991, in the vibrant city of Lahore, Pakistan, I was just a few months old when my family moved to Dessau in Saxony-Anhalt. The childhood memories of my Germany are so incredibly powerful that I still hold the citizenship dear to my heart. That magical atmosphere of Weihnachten (Christmas), Spielzeug (toy train) shopping at Karstadt, delicious Döner Kebabs and those colourful cartoon pocketbooks.

SEE ALSO: On Brexit and belonging: Reflections of a Scot in Germany

I still remember my first day of school, holding a traditional Schultüte cone filled with candy and gifts. I wore a bright red dress and carried a green, square-framed Donald Duck Schulranzen backpack, which was as big as myself. It was a day full of celebrations.

Yet, looking back, I was the only brown face in the crowd. I remember this girl giving me a hard time; she would steal my lunch and poke me in the eye with a pencil. The photographs of this first day are still neatly positioned in a Spice Girls photo album – the British girl bands was the all time favourite of a 90's childhood when I moved to Birmingham as a seven-year-old.

Anam on her first day of school in Dessau. Photo courtesy of Anam Hussain.

As I continued with my educational journey, the differences in borders had gradually faded; I wasn't an alien. By the time I went to university, I was neither German nor British, I regarded myself as a proud citizen of Europe. And then there are the stories my father tells me of his time as a German businessman, the etiquette, structured and ordered, have only further inspired me to strongly hold my citizenship until this day.

The passport had become more than just a few pieces of paper bound together next to my photograph; rather it represented a map of diversity, languages and cultures. The freedom of movement, to live anywhere, without any conditions, forms a central part of my identity. It makes me who I am. The EU Settlement Scheme appears to snatch this identity from me, leaving me deeply unsettled.

The most painful truth is that I wasn't able to vote on my future in the referendum. Instead, those who are probably not even affected directly decided my future which swings between three countries and the word 'exist.' Have I just had a shelf life all that time?

A view of Dessau in Saxony-Anhalt. Photo: DPA

I'm a European

Birmingham, you are now, a stranger to me.

As I tip-toe around the city centre streets, I wonder what a no-deal Brexit future could possibly mean to me. The blurred vision seems to be never-ending, I shall take the last walk through the Bullring and past the Chamberlain Square, and as I glide along the Brindleyplace, the Town Hall, half hidden in mist, it will probably be my last glimpse of Birmingham.

Now, more than ever, as a European national, I am making future plans, because it is the only thing I can do with certainty. But, dear Germany, do you still have a place for me, or will I be claiming: Ich bin eine Ausländer? (I am a foreigner.)

SEE ALSO: Brits anxiety, residence permits and 'Freundship': Brexit experts talk to The Local

In between being European and British, I've also lived in Pakistan. But there too, I'm often described as the 'Bahirwalay' (outsiders). I'm I left with only one option that guarantees me a discrimination free-future – to take the UK citizenship? I'd be forced to spend an insane amount of money, only to prove my life in the UK and take an English language test? Even after educating in Britain? But Germany only allows dual nationality with other EU states and since the UK is leaving, am I also leaving?

The only ray of light powerful enough to pierce through this thick fog comes from within, as I write and photograph the confusing whirlwind.

I will always be a Pakistani, a German, a British, a Brummy. And, a European.

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