Affective Waiting: Experiences of Family Reunification in Sweden

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Affective waiting:

Experiences of Family Reunification

in Sweden

Hilda Gustafsson

Master’s Thesis, 30 credits

IM622L International Migration and Ethnic Relations August 2018

Supervisor: Margareta Popoola Examinator: Anne Sofie Roald

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Abstract

Family reunification is a unique research field currently impacted by shifting policies and attitudes on integration. In Sweden, family connections constitute the largest immigration category, yet the wait for family reunification has not yet been examined within academia. Thus, the aim of this thesis is to explore former asylum seekers’ experiences of waiting for family reunification in Sweden. Taking place at all stages of the migratory process, elements within waiting include time perception, power relations, expectations, future, hope,

uncertainty and activity. Forming the theoretical framework of this thesis, six semi-structured interviews with former asylum seekers from Syria are analyzed in relation to waiting and migration. The findings suggest that waiting stretches across legal statuses and entails different perceptions of time, differing from the linear bureaucratic model provided by the Swedish Migration Agency. Family reunification is the future goal of the informants’ wait, asylum being a temporal marker on the way there. The wait encompasses a power relation in which several actors in Sweden and abroad affect expectations, outcome and duration of the wait. Uncertainty in terms of duration and outcome affect informants’ well-being negatively. With distrust in the procedures of the Swedish Migration Agency, the process is experienced as unjust, especially when others receive decisions ahead of time. While passivity constitutes parts of the wait, activity in terms of physical action such as going to work and mental monitoring of one’s case are present. Finally, waiting for family reunification is a highly affective form of waiting entailing emotions and care, influencing the relation to the family in waiting abroad.

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Acknowledgements

Initially inspired by my students in waiting, the following thesis extends its largest thank you to those who, with great humility, exposed their life experiences within and outside the present work. A big thank you also to Hassan, Imad, Mohammad and Nabih as friends and translators, for your time and engagement. Thank you to friends who distracted me just enough and to those I distracted with this thesis. I am grateful also to my supervisor

Margareta Popoola for feedback, discussions and improvements made and to Anne Sofie for useful comments along the way. Finally, I am thankful for recent moments spent in stressful waiting where newfound knowledge enabled me to feel lucky in relation to all the waiting happening in the world.

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Abbreviations

CRC - The United Nations Convention on the Rights of the Child EU - European Union

FRD - Family Reunification Directive SMA - Swedish Migration Agency SPM - Subsidiary Protection Migrant STA - Swedish Tax Agency

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1. Introduction

In Sweden, family members have dominated immigration for at least three decades1 (Nilsson, 2004). Unable to reunite elsewhere, asylum seekers are often followed by loved ones wishing to join through reunification. Between 2013 and 2017, family members2 of former asylum-seekers received 74,297 residence permits3 in Sweden, comprising twelve percent of all residence permits and nearly a third of all reunification permits4 during that time

(Migrationsverket, 2018c). Waiting for reunification, families can be split during large periods of time. In May 2018, resolved reunification cases had been handled for a median of 328 days5 by the Swedish Migration Agency (SMA). On top of an averaged 621-day wait for asylum6 (Migrationsverket, 2018d), the total wait in Sweden amounted to roughly two and a half years.

As a phenomenon, family reunification has commonly been defended using human rights arguments and the right to family life (Lundberg, 2010). Meanwhile, altered relationships due to migration have been shown to affect refugees’ health status (Carlzén & Zdravkovic, 2016) and the importance of support from close friends and family upon arrival has been

emphasized in studies on mental health (Hjern, 2012). Nevertheless, family migration has also been considered an unwished form of immigration (Watson, 2018) where family

presence has been presented as a threat to integration, as it it is argued to import conservative norms such as the oppression of women (Borevi, 2015). Recent restrictions in family

reunification policy, such as a temporary law introduced in Sweden in 2016 (SFS, 2016:752), have been said to symbolize this shift in attitude.

In a time of shifting policies and attitudes, narratives may serve as important depictions to understand the role of family reunification in immigrants’ lives. However, what constitutes the wait remains unexplored in spite of increased waiting times for reunification (Riksdagens ombudsmän, 2014), its topicality and the group’s size.

1

Across all family reunification groups, including Swedish citizens (Nilsson, 2004)

2

Given subsidiary protection status or Geneva convention refugee status (not including quota refugees)

3_{Spouses, partners and children up to 18 years old.}

4_{All reunification permits included in the close family category: the SMA does not keep data on family}

handling times based on the residence permit type of the sponsor.

5

Personal communication with the Swedish Migration Agency. Median waiting days in May, 2018.

6

Averages in December 2017: numbers possibly skewed upwards, affected by a smaller number of cases constituting a long wait (see Migrationsverket, 2018g)

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2. Aim and research questions

The aim of this thesis is to explore the lived experiences of waiting for family reunification in Sweden. To achieve this aim, the research is guided by the following question:

- How is waiting for family reunification experienced among former asylum seekers7 in Sweden?

2.1 Delimitations

The thesis is delimited to adults granted asylum in Sweden on the basis of refuge8_or

subsidiary protection and who have applied for family reunification for their partner and/or child(ren).

2.2 Concepts

Family as a concept is defined differently across legal frameworks (Goldin et al., 2012) and does not necessarily reveal social closeness (Ribbens McCarthy, 2010, in Ribbens McCarthy & Edwards, 2011). In this thesis, family encompasses those covered by Swedish family reunification law: partners and children under 18, (SFS 2016:752) unless otherwise stated. In defining asylum seeker, subsidiary protection migrant (SPM) and refugee, the thesis follows the Swedish Migration Agency’s definition (Migrationsverket, 2015). Thus, asylum seeker refers to a foreign citizen who applied for asylum, yet whose residential status has not been determined by the Swedish Migration Agency or the Migration Courts of Sweden. A subsidiary protection migrant (SPM) is a person given protection status based on the European Union’s Qualification Directive in Sweden, while the term refugee encompasses those given refugee status according to the Geneva Convention (Migrationsverket, 2015).

2.3 Structure of the thesis

The thesis starts by contextualizing the informants’ wait by providing a background of family reunification in Sweden and a description of the application process itself. Thereafter, the

7

For a detailed description of the concept of asylum seeker, refugee and subsidiary protection migrant as understood in this research, please see section 2.2..

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analytical framework, waiting, is presented in conjunction with studies on its role within migration. Subsequently, the thesis’s method and methodology are set out before presenting the interview data gathered. Finally, the analytical framework is used to interpret the data and answer the research question.

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3. The field of family reunification

Migration journeys can take hours, years or even generations...and their significance might be greater than their relative duration (Griffiths, Rogers & Anderson, 2013, p.11).

3.1 Defining family reunification

Family reunification constitutes two branches under family migration: pre-established, and recently established families reuniting in host societies9_{(Kofman in Borevi, 2015). While}

family separation is not necessarily enforced in all migrant groups, that of asylum-based families is characterized by involuntariness (Baldassar & Merla, 2014).

As a policy field, family reunification remains scarcely researched yet unique (Bech et al., 2017). Involving both entry, settlement and citizenship10, it is intrinsically conditioned by other areas of migration policy. Through the cases of Denmark, Sweden and Norway, Bech (et al. 2017) explored this uniqueness, distinguishing four elements. First, reunification policies regulate the right to (re)establish a family life through a double conditionality - encompassing the civic deservingness of a sponsor11 and integration potential of a future resident. Secondly, it entails moral claims by residents aspiring to marry or reunite (Bech et al., 2017). Third, family reunification is linked to a mindset of migrants as an uncontrollable flow threatening the welfare state and to some extent, society’s cultural cohesion. Finally, restrictions in the field stand in contrast with values otherwise associated with the Nordic welfare states: “ideals of human rights, universalism and equal treatment of persons” (Bech et al. 2017, p.19). As mentioned initially, these very arguments have hindered restriction on family reunification policies in the past (Goldin et al., 2011; cf. Lundberg, Hellström & Hökfelt, 2010), contrasting a logic based on numbers (Bech et al., 2017).

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The third branch consists of whole families migrating together (Kofman in Borevi, 2015).

10

Also known as the gates of integration (Goodman in Bech et al., 2017)

11

Sponsor signifies the person in the receiving country, on whose case the family reunification application relies.

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3.2 Reuniting in Sweden

Swedish family reunification policy encompasses married and cohabiting couples12_and

children up to 18 years13_{(Borevi, 2015), conforming with the 2003 European Union Family}

Reunification Directive14 (FRD) (European Union, 2003). The FRD states that refugees, a category unable to reunite elsewhere, should be treated especially benevolently (Lundberg et al., 2010). Moreover, cases should be handled from abroad and determined within nine months (European Union, 2003). Having signed the United Nations’ Convention on the Rights of the Child (CRC), Sweden is also urged to assess family reunification in a positive, humane and quick manner in the best interest of the child (Lundberg et al., 2010).

Preceding the implementation of a temporary law in July 2016 (SFS 2016:752), Sweden’s family reunification policies had remained largely unchanged for a number of years (Borevi, 2015). The (by EU standards) liberal system had persisted, Borevi (2015) claimed, due to a strong discourse on the right to family life, party politics and an integration philosophy based on will of contribution and the equal treatment of natives and immigrants. However, two changes in policy were noted - not as affecting numbers of immigrants (due to their many exemptions) - but to symbolize a shift toward an EU policy trend of civic conditioning for family reunification (Borevi, 2015). In 1997 the access to reunification for non-nuclear family members was restricted, and in 2010, a maintenance requirement obliging the sponsor to prove self-sufficiency15 was implemented (Bech et al., 2017). The introduction of a

maintenance requirement had not come without resistance however: a similar proposal in 1997 was repealed as it was considered as running counter to the welfare state principle of equal treatment (Borevi, 2015) and a 2008 government-issued investigation described it as detrimental to integration into Swedish society (Lundberg et al., 2010). Subsequently

however, the change in law in 2016 (SFS 2016:752) would alter the landscape of asylum and family reunification considerably.

12

Hetero- and homosexual couples included. If one partner is under 21, reunification is not normally granted unless an exception such as having children is fulfilled (Migrationsverket, 2018a).

13_{Due to the areas of interest of this thesis, laws concerning family reunification for minor sponsors are not}

included.

14

The FRD further allows for the introduction of maintenance requirements, i.e. income or housing requirements.

15

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3.3 Accessing family reunification

3.3.1 Waiting for asylum

To access family reunification one needs a residence permit. As stated at the outset of this thesis, the handling time for asylum in Sweden averaged 621 days16 in December 2017 (Migrationsverket, 2018d). During the wait, an interview is conducted with a caseworker at the Swedish Migration Agency (SMA) to establish the asylum seeker’s story and grounds for protection (Migrationsverket, 2017c). Housing is provided in a refugee camp or can be arranged by the asylum-seeker themself (ibid.). Asylum-seeking adults cannot enrol in higher education (Migrationsverket, 2018h), yet Swedish classes are provided for free17 and during this time a small grant from the state is provided to the individual (SOU 2018:22)18. Working is permitted providing one’s identity is proven likely19 (Migrationsverket, 2017b).

According to a report issued by the Swedish government, the asylum-seeking period should prepare a person for both integration and possible return (SOU 2009:19). In the early 2000s, several efforts were taken to make the wait for asylum meaningful (Brekke, 2004). These included EU-promoted partnerships, collaborations between regional public, private and non-governmental organizations including rehabilitation of traumatized refugees, through

educational and training measures, competence building and new methods for increasing integration into the labor market (ibid.).

Until 2016, refugees and SPMs were both entitled to permanent residence permits and

subsequent family reunification (Borevi, 2015). In some cases, other relatives were entitled to residency where there had been a social and emotional dependence between the sponsor and the incomer before the sponsor’s flight to Sweden (Migrationsverket, 2018i).

When granted asylum, a two-year individual plan is established with a caseworker at the Swedish Public Employment Agency (Arbetsförmedlingen, n.d.). The plan may include activities such as internships, Swedish classes or applying for jobs (ibid.). In return for participation, a daily grant of 308SEK (€30) is awarded.

16_{For all asylum-seeking groups. Numbers are most likely skewed upwards as a few cases take a long time,}

elevating the average.

17

Provided by several NGOs. Asylum-seeking minors are entitled to the same education as Swedish citizens.

18

For information on grants, see https://www.migrationsverket.se/Privatpersoner/Skydd-och-asyl-i-Sverige/Medan-du-vantar/Ekonomiskt-stod.html (Swedish only)

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3.3.2 The right to reunification

Under the temporary law, a previously unseen division of rights was established between refugees and SPMs, having a significant effect on access to family reunification. While refugees are now given three-year permits and maintain access to family reunification under certain circumstances (see below), SPMs are given 13-month permits and are deprived of the right to family reunification altogether (SFS 2016:752). Furthermore, the law was

implemented retroactively: hence, temporary residence permits are issued even where an application was submitted before the implementation of the law. For family reunification, anyone who applied for asylum on or before November 24th 201520 are encompassed by the old regulations (SFS 2016:752). In 2018, family reunification is only available to asylum seekers granted refugee status providing that their prospects of getting a permanent residence permit are well-grounded (SFS 2016:752).

3.3.3 The application process

The SMA describes the family reunification process for refugees and SPMs as involving six chronological steps. First, an application is filed, attaching copies of all incoming family members’ passports (Migrationsverket, 2018e). A residence permit cannot be given if a passport has expired (ibid.). In some cases where identities cannot be established via

passports, DNA samples are used (Migrationsverket, 2018f). Marriage certificates, children's birth certificates and other documents proving a common household are also mandatory, as is a statement of desired embassy for a later interview (Migrationsverket, 2018e). If married, the sponsor registers the marriage with the Swedish Tax Agency (STA). For refugees and SPMs, application is free of charge (Migrationsverket, 2018e).

Figure 1. The bureaucratic process of family reunification for refugees and SPMs in Sweden.

Once filed at the SMA, the sponsor is requested to provide information regarding the

couple’s relationship (Migrationsverket, 2018e). If a complete application is not submitted by the refugee within three months of their residence permit approval, a maintenance

20

Nov. 24th 2015 was the day on which suggested restrictions were presented by the Swedish government at a press conference (Regeringen, 2015)

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requirement (forming part of the temporary law) applies, requiring proof of housing and income (SFS 2016:752). The monetary requirement increases with each family member and the cost of housing (Migrationsverket, 2018a). The level is established annually by the Swedish government’s reserved amount, i.e. the estimated standard living costs that year excluding housing costs (Kronofogden, 2018). In 2018, the reserved amount was 7952 SEK (€77121) for a cohabiting couple (Migrationsverket 2018a). The sponsor’s income is approved only if originating from (permanent-contract) work, unemployment insurance funds, sick pay or an income-based pension (Migrationsverket, 2018a). Meanwhile, the housing requirement calls for a contract proving long-term future residency (Migrationsverket, 2018a). As for size, a maximum of two children can share rooms, while one room and a kitchen is the minimum for a couple (Migrationsverket 2018a)22.

If not met, the applicant is told to re-apply once fulfilling the requirements (Migrationsverket, 2018a). If approved, the applicant is asked to schedule an appointment for the incoming family members at the embassy or consulate (Migrationsverket, 2018e). During the interview, questions regarding the relationship are asked. Subsequently, the SMA handles the case and if needed, applicants are asked to provide complementary information, prolonging the handling time (Migrationsverket, 2018e).

Finally, a decision is taken by the SMA (Migrationsverket, 2018e). If approved, family members are given temporary residence corresponding with the length of the sponsor’s permit (SFS 2016:752). If rejected, it is possible to appeal the decision within three weeks (Migrationsverket, 2018e).

In the SMA’s online service to estimate the handling times for family reunification, a first-time applicant with a valid Syrian ID wishing to reunite with their permanent residence holding spouse, providing that the application is complete and that the couple had a pre-established relation in Syria, was 16-19 months in March 2018 (Migrationsverket, 2018b). For refugees with temporary permits, no estimate was made available.

21

All conversions to Euros from July 2018.

22

A lower maintenance requirement applies to applications submitted before July 21st 2016 (the day of implementation of the law), demanding housing of sufficient size and standard as well as self-sufficiency of the sponsor (Migrationsverket 2018a).

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4. Migration and waiting

Waiting constitutes the theoretical framework of this thesis. To better apprehend its role in family reunification, the theory is combined below with studies of waiting in the migratory process.

4.1 Defining waiting

Waiting as a phenomenon is universal (Bissell, 2007; Gasparini, 1995; Rotter, 2016), yet the experience of waiting varies depending on context, history and tradition (Bendixen &

Eriksen, 2018; Schweizer, 2005). Several waits can be experienced by a single individual in one moment, inhabiting different modes and temporal horizons (Hage, 2018). Between these micro-forms of waiting (Hage, 2018), affections become entangled, challenging the

distinction of the characteristics of one single waiting experience (ibid.). What is more, waiting is present on several levels; it can be both institutionalized and structured (Hage, 2018), planned (Gasparini, 1995) or contingent and random - some waiting periods happen regularly while others are occasional (Hage, 2018).

Waiting takes place at all stages of the migratory process. From waiting to migrate (Elliott, 2016; Gray, 2011; Khosravi, 2017) and waiting at borders (Andersson, 2014; Griffiths, Rogers & Anderson, 2013), to waiting for asylum (Bendixen & Eriksen, 2018; Brekke, 2004; Firnhaber, 2004; Griffiths, 2017; Lennartsson, 2007; Nordström, 2004; Rotter, 2016) and subsequently, waiting to return voluntarily (Brun, 2015; Hage, 2018) or even through deportation (Griffiths, 2014), its presence is a recurring feature in the lives of migrants.

4.2 A different temporality: Waiting and time

Recurring in theoretizations on waiting is the concept of time23. With regard to migration practices, Griffiths (2014) notes that valuable perspectives become visible in time’s presence, including “the lived experiences of immigration administration” (Griffiths, 2014, p.1992), chronic uncertainty and “the systemic primacy of waiting” (Griffiths, 2014, p.1991). Adam (in Griffiths et al., 2013 p.3) helpfully summarizes the complex nature of time as

encompassing relations between:

23

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...temporality, tempo and timing, between clock time, chronology, social time and time-consciousness, between motion, process, change, continuity and the temporal modalities of past, present and future, between time as a resource, as ordering principle and as becoming of the possible, or between any combination of these. Time is a subjective experience - yet at a structural level, it fundamentally frames social life and bureaucratic systems (Griffiths, 2014, Schweizer, 2005, 2016; Hage, 2009; Gasparini, 1995; Schwartz, 1975). A useful means to understand time’s relation to waiting is to

distinguish between thought and lived time (Bergson in Schweizer, 2005). Mechanical time - minutes, hours, weeks - represents time thought, whereas time’s qualitative temporal

consciousness - its intersection with impatience - is time lived. Here, lived duration is in focus instead of quantifiable time (Schweizer, 2005). For Bissell (2007, p.284), this “temporal quality of waiting” differs from mechanical time as it entails a non-linear understanding of temporality.

Waiting thus alters our perception of time (Schweizer, 2016), named a temporal deviation (Bendixen & Eriksen, 2018), an anomaly (Schweizer, 2005), and a “temporary interruption to an individual’s action” (Gasparini 1995, p.32) being noticed only “when the harmony of an otherwise unconscious temporality is disturbed and someone experiences dwelling that is longer than is right” (Schweizer, 2005, p.781). Similarly, the experience of waiting for asylum has been described as deviating from the pace of mainstream society (Griffiths, 2014; Bendixen & Eriksen, 2018). For Brekke’s (2004) informants waiting for asylum in Sweden, the waiting period was considered an in-between state, splitting the life they had led prior to migrating and the one they would eventually lead. One informant expressed waiting as consisting of phases; the mind lingering in the home country before coming to the realization of a new one and finally, feeling time passing before one’s eyes (Brekke, 2004).

The notion that time is money, Schwartz (in Khosravi, 2014) argues, means it can be “counted, saved, spent, lost /../or invested”. Money equalling time further insinuates that waiting can be a waste or useless (Hage, 2009; Khosravi, 2014). To individuals in waiting, the perception of time as efficiency, mobility and money are often in stark contrast to their own experiences or opportunities. Hence, a state of waiting may create temporal angst (Griffiths, 2014), as it has implications for one’s relation to society as a whole - and to other

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people living in synchronized time (Schweizer, 2005). Griffiths’s (2014) informants, prohibited from working during their wait for asylum, reflected upon their inability to move on in contrast to their relatives’ ability to achieve social goals such as marrying or starting a family (Griffiths, 2014).

Andersson (2014) described the divergence between thought time and lived time among migrants waiting to enter mainland EU in the Spanish enclave of Ceuta. Bureaucratic measures; paperwork and time schedules at asylum centers created a sense of time progressing, while the speed of border authorities to stifle the inflow of migrants was

contrasted against the migrants’ feeling of slowness and stasis (Andersson, 2014). Likewise, for Palestinians waiting for asylum in Norway, time was experienced as regulated by

migration law and authorities’ control mechanisms, leaving them outside of mainstream society’s time (Bendixen & Eriksen, 2018).

Griffiths (et al., 2013) argue that immigrant journeys are often simplified by institutions to a linear chronological ideal. This includes a one-time evaluation of immigration status, and the molding within a progress model of settlement, productivity, “integration and ultimately to naturalization or return” (Griffiths et al., 2013, p.29). Nordström (2004) exemplified this through the SMA’s schematic depictions of asylum cases, finding them to be more

complicated in practice than they let on. The criticism of this linear view also concurred with Rotter’s (2016) understanding of her informants’ wait for asylum in the United Kingdom (UK), a process involving progress and backlashes where even near-certain approvals gave no sense of comfort of the absence of refusal (Rotter, 2016).

As time passes, the characteristics of the wait may change (Lennartsson, 2007). To informants in Lennartsson’s (2007) study, the arrival to Sweden was expressed as a “honeymoon”, as regaining one’s future. The longer one waited for asylum however, time was more commonly described as empty, with informants being unable to focus on anything but the wait itself (ibid.). Griffiths’s (2014) study of experiences of waiting for asylum in and outside of detention centers in the UK distinguished four variations of time. It can be

experienced as sticky, a state in which it appears long and slowing. This, she states, is particularly common among immigrants in procedures such as waiting for an asylum decision. Prolonged living in sticky time conveys a risk of ending up in suspended time. Within suspended time, the wait appears to be void of direction or purpose, progression and

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fairness. Here, waiting conveys suspension rather than a feeling of waiting in line. Time may also appear as frenzied, as rushing out of control. Finally, there are temporal ruptures as one’s wait is divided due to meetings with attorneys, appeals and other case-related issues (Griffiths, 2014).

Griffiths (2014) saw her informants shifting between frenzied time in instances when decisions seemed rushed, and experiencing time as superfluous (sticky or suspended), enabling excessive reflection on the arrival of a decision. While institutional routines served as markers of chronological time (through temporal ruptures), some informants considered the wait “a source of shame or oppression, life seen as unproductive, endless present with an inability to plan or believe in a future” (Griffiths, 2014, p.1998). To Rotter (2016), these temporal ruptures were phrased as short-term waits that formed part of a larger, long-term wait for asylum.

4.3 Systems of waiting

Waiting has been identified as a unique political object, entailing a relation between creator and receiver (Hage, 2009). This relationship, encompassing expectations of what-is-to-come from they/that which enforces the wait, has been named the key manifestation of power within waiting (Bourdieu, 2000; Khosravi, 2014; Bendixen & Eriksen, 2018). Within an increasingly modern and capitalist society, Rotter (2016) continues, the role of the individual in waiting has decreased in favor of the creator’s (Rotter, 2016). Meanwhile, waiting has been called inevitable within large bureaucratic economic systems (Lefebvre in Bissell, 2007) as well as in the asylum process (Brekke, 2004). This inevitably of waiting stems from the reality that applications require assessment (Brekke, 2004).

The provider, or the supply-side of waiting, sets conditions for the wait based on resources at hand and its capacity to offer services (Gasparini, 1995; Hage, 2009). Whether the service offer is monopolized, effective and accessible (in terms of opening hours, etc), and how time is distributed between customers also shapes the wait (Gasparini, 1995). Waiting times further serve as measurements of institutional efficiency, a short wait unquestionably seen as the preferred choice (Hage, 2009). However, in certain contexts short waiting times convey a sense of hastened decisions, raising suspicion regarding the quality of the investigation (Hage, 2009; Griffiths, 2014).

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In Sweden, asylum politics have long aimed to shorten the wait for asylum for fear that passivity would lead to difficulties in integration (SOU 2009:19). A 2009 government-issued report stated that rule of law and efficiency are key within the wait for asylum to ensure short handling times leading to a more humane reception (SOU 2009:19). The minimization of the applicants’ wait was referred to as “the perhaps most important task from a reception

perspective” (author’s translation, ibid.). Nevertheless, an increase in complaints regarding long waiting times (the majority regarding reunification cases) led to an inspection of the SMA by the Parliamentary Ombudsmen in 2014 (Riksdagens ombudsmän, 2014). Following the inspection the SMA was publicly criticised for having sidestepped Sweden’s Instrument of Government in treating online applications quicker than paper applications. The long waiting times were claimed to have caused mental and physical problems for those in waiting (Riksdagens ombudsmän, 2014). In July 2018, a law aiming to shorten waiting times for reunification was put into effect through the redistribution of cases to other offices of the SMA. Subsequently, complete applications were said to be determined within nine months (Migrationsverket, 2017d).

Apart from waiting for a person or object from the creator, scholars have depicted the powers of waiting through the deprivation of the right to structure one’s time (Bendixen & Eriksen, 2018), what can and cannot be chosen to wait for (Hage, 2018) as well as the disproportionate amount of waiting done in powerless communities (Auyero in Khosravi, 2014; Schweizer, 2016; Andersson, 2014). It has been illustrated as a deferral of people’s future (Andersson 2014), and depicted as a marker of whose time is valued (Schwartz in Khosravi, 2014). Auyero (in Bendixen & Eriksen, 2018) even argues that the distribution of waiting is an index of power discrepancies in a society. To Schweizer (2016, pp. 80-81), waiting constitutes

an instrument of class, race, rank and gender distinction /.../ attributed, applied, apportioned to solidify hierarchies and prejudice, and most fundamentally to signal an individual’s or a group’s existential expendability.

What is more, Griffiths (2014) and Andersson (2014) identify power (seen through

subordination, compliance and control) as sustained through portioning out glimpses of hope for change. In Andersson’s (2014) study on migrants waiting in encampments in Spain,

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enforced waiting became a tactic by Spanish authorities to keep “undesirables” outside of EU borders, while hope to those encamped helped limit protests (Andersson, 2014).

As followed by waiting’s presence at all stages of the migratory process, its creators have been identified accordingly. Thus, on the providing end are smugglers deferring onward movement (Griffiths, 2014), border control enforcers and practices (Andersson, 2014), sending, transit and receiving states and institutions (Mountz, 2011), and decision makers at migration institutions and organizations (Khosravi, 2014).

Institutional practices make up an essential part of immigrants’ wait, Griffiths (2014) states, whose informants were seen waiting for “months for court hearings, for the enactment of decisions, appointments with embassies, for identity documents and for a variety of decisions to be made” (Griffiths, 2014, p.1995). Bureaucracy’s role in the wait was seen by Griffiths (et al., 2013) as playing a dual role in controlling the temporal uncertainty felt by migrants over their future - both masking and aggravating it (Griffiths et al., 2013). Likewise, Rotter (2016) considered her informants’ wait mainly a result of bureaucracy: delays in the asylum system, state investigations regarding safe returns or other legal processes (Rotter, 2016).

Lastly, systems of waiting include spaces such as asylum detention centers and refugee camps where waiting occurs (Andersson, 2014; Griffiths, 2014; Hage, 2009; Mountz, 2011). Here, bureaucratic measures (paperwork, time schedules and more) convey a sense of

progression in time (Andersson, 2014), and may work to avoid arbitrariness and sidestepping the first come first serve principle (Hage, 2009). Yet spaces have also been said to make up places for resistance and collective action against perceived injustices in the system (Rotter, 2016; Andersson, 2014)

4.4 Receiving waiting

On the receiving end of the wait, individuals’ capital: economy, knowledge and power, shape how waiting is approached; for instance by trying to avoid, minimize or accepting it

(Gasparini, 1995). While creators of waiting have been framed as patronizing, receivers have been said to experience capitulation, dependency and subordination (Auyero in Khosravi, 2014; Khosravi, 2014) as well as powerlessness, rolelessness and vulnerability (Crapanzano in Khosravi, 2014). Waiting has been connected to feelings of shame, depression and anxiety

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(Khosravi, 2014), meaninglessness, indifference (Bendixen & Eriksen, 2018; Anderson in Bissell, 2007) and even trauma (Mansouri and Cauchi in Griffiths, 2014). What is more, immigrants in waiting are particularly vulnerable to changes in policy, changes that may both open and close doors to end the wait (Bendixen & Eriksen, 2018).

At the family level, Brekke (2004) noted that mutual expectations in relationships

complicated asylum seekers’ decision-making as one person’s choice had consequences for the whole family. Likewise, decisions from authorities were likely to affect them all, which some informants felt responsible to deal with on behalf of the others (Brekke, 2004). Lennartsson (2007) moreover found that asylum seekers who lived with their families experienced safety and certain stability in an otherwise unstable situation. To those having left their families behind however, feelings of anxiety, worry and grief were recurring features (ibid.) alongside guilt of abandonment (Ariza, 2014). What is more, the social isolation of both adults and children created patterns difficult to break as their wait grew longer (Lennartsson, 2007).

4.4.1 Questioning the wait

Immigrants have voiced criticism toward the policies and practices framing the waiting in their lives. For instance, Brekke’s (2004) informants found the asylum system of Sweden unjust, not following a principle of order. Rotter (2016) saw defiance in calling one’s wait a waste, or by the using of the word shame - both to refer to one’s own situation and that of the British government (Rotter, 2016). Meanwhile, Griffiths (2014) noted her informants’

discontent, yet also a hesitation to try and affect the duration of one’s wait, for fear that this could irritate decision-makers.

4.5 Individual expectations and bureaucratic slowness

Institutions and public services face expectations on deliverance, with speed being the given sign of success (Gasparini, 1995; Cwerner in Griffiths, 2014). These expectations are a consequence, Gasparini (1995) argues, of the institutionalization and routinization of waiting. The perfect wait, Gasparini (1995) states, includes following the first come first serve

principle, providing information on any delays with the expected new time frame and the expected outcome of the wait. If failing to deliver on time, the delay may be considered a cost for the individual waiting (ibid.).

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As expectations on time frames are awakened on the receiving side, the reality of

bureaucratic slowness also appears, creating an intersection where the virtue of patience is replaced by impatience (Bissell, 2007; Gasparini, 1995; Schweizer, 2005). Causing

dissatisfaction and discomfort, it leaves one “at the crossroads of present and future but also of certainty and uncertainty” (Gasparini, 1995, p.31). Within immigration bureaucracy, families have been noted to get hurt due to the system’s indifferent nature (Griffiths, 2017). For Griffiths (2014) informants, the judicial system of the UK was considered slow and unjust, as others were deemed to obtain decisions early in spite of a late application, enabling them to return to a normal life. Likewise, perceived promises of duration among Brekke’s (2004) informants led to expectations that, when not met, caused frustration and uncertainty, especially when compared to others with shorter waiting times. Thus, the crossing between providing and receiving waiting encompasses time marked by emotion, noted by Griffiths (et al. 2013) as revealing the beyond-rational elements of decision making.

Andersson (2014) noted that expectations were key to his informants, as the realization of these expectations would make the wait worthwhile. For those managing to enter the EU however, expected outcomes were often replaced by a sense of stucked-ness and despair, where hopes of liberation were taken advantage of by authorities as a way to stifle pressure for change (Andersson, 2014). Griffiths (2014) similarly depicted how a migrant’s temporal expectations may shift suddenly due to a successful appeal, unexpected letters or surprise release from detention (ibid.). While anticipating a quick decision, her informants were equally affected by the possible approximation of a negative one, making time speeding up fearful (ibid.). Brekke (2004) noted that for the informants a longer wait for asylum also led to an increased expectations and a sense of entitlement to stay (ibid.).

In retrospect, the outcome of the wait (i.e. whether one’s expectations were met) affects how it is valued. If not met, the wait can be considered a waste of time (cf. Bendixen & Eriksen, 2018; Rotter, 2016). While this was the case for some of Bendixen & Eriksen’s (2018) informants who had subsequently returned to their home countries, it was also true that some who had waited for a notable amount of time would consider the wait being in vain if they were to return (ibid.). Brun’s (2015) informants reflected upon how, in retrospect, they would have used their waiting time differently had they known the dimensions of the wait

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4.6 Future and Hope

It is when the wait is over that a piece of life is recovered, “receiving permission to return, for a time, into the purgatory of the busy and the harried” (Schweizer, 2016, p.81).

Hope and uncertainty over the future is not experienced solely by migrants but form part of the human condition (Bendixen & Eriksen, 2018, see also Adam in Griffiths, et al., 2013). Nevertheless, waiting is notably linked to the future, worded broadly as engaging and expecting things from life itself (Hage, 2009), or more specifically as being “directed at something, such as the arrival of a physical object, the commencement of an event, the achievement of a state or a change of circumstance” (Rotter, 2016, p.85). In a similar sense, migration is connected to the idea of the future in various ways (Piore in Griffiths, et al., 2013), or even seen as a tactic of creating a future (Cole in Griffiths, et al., 2013).

Imaginations of the future (and thus in a broad sense waiting) may begin before the physical migration process takes place (see Gray, 2011; Khosravi, 2017). This preparation (even where migration is hoped for yet never realized) is depicted in Khosravi’s (2017) Precarious lives: Waiting and hope in Iran. Here, the author finds that young Iranians’ future prospects are affected by legal status, “class, gender, ethnicity, sexualities” (Khosravi, 2017 p.14) in their otherwise precarious, immobile, hopeless and meaningless everyday life (Khosravi, 2017). Gray’s (2011) retrospective study on negotiations among potential migrants in 1950s Ireland draws out how family survival forms part of migration decisions in the imagination of a different future, with men serving as family providers putting their personal status on the line in the decision of staying behind or emigrating (Gray, 2011). Rotter (2016) calls this state an intentionality of waiting, meaning that it derives from the presence of care.

Hope has been described as an emotion enabling agency for people with no future (Bourdieu, 2000), or as conveying the ability to invest and act even when the likelihood of the event occurring is small (Hage, 2003). In Ceuta, Andersson’s (2014) informants rarely found expectations being met, yet hope was present and dreams of moving on, finding work and spreading the news of their arrival to friends were common. Calling the authorities’

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terms of “trying to take back their colonized future rather than recuperate a lost past” (Andersson, 2014, p.805).

Whether the future event is dreaded or longed for, the experience of waiting may be negative or positive (Rotter, 2016). On one hand, perceptions of future benefits from the wait may make painful situations bearable (Griffiths, et al., 2013) or altogether shape the experience of the wait (Bissell, 2007; Crapanzano in Rotter, 2016). To Rotter’s (2016) informants, positive modalities included waiting for reunification with family members or a change in the political situation in their place of origin (enabling safe routes back). On the other hand, fearing an undesired future may be both paralyzing and debilitating (Bendixen & Eriksen, 2018), for instance in dreading an asylum rejection (cf. Rotter, 2016). Meanwhile, lacking a future orientation altogether makes the wait seem meaningless (Crapanzano in Rotter, 2016). Brun (2015) noted that while her informants in protracted displacement tried to move on, remaining within a political and humanitarian category produced uncertain futures in itself. What is more, struggles in everyday life - queuing in housing centers and in contact with agencies to increase assistance - were seen as reminders of the displacement and loss (ibid.). Adding to experiences of war, their migration had led to a double existence between here and there, creating a state of inbetween-ness (Bammer in Brun, 2015).

Finally, it is noteworthy that the wait of diasporic communities, a nostalgic wait,

paradoxically has been linked to the past rather than the future (cf. Hage, 2018). Here, one yearns for an idealized past, entailing the possibility that that lost place - not time, as

dominated in the “classic” modern European conceptualizations of waiting - will materialize in the future (Hage, 2018).

4.7 Uncertainty

If migration can be considered a means of imagining or creating futures, about hope and aspiration, then it is also reflective of absent or uncertain futures (Griffiths et al., 2013, p.28)

Imagining a future ending point of one’s wait may increase the sense of control of one’s situation, helping individuals to orient themselves or divide the time into smaller periods of

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waiting (Gasparini, 1995). When the point in time in which the event-to-come will occur is undefined, imagining a future becomes a struggle (Griffiths, 2014). Combining uncertainty of outcome with lack of power to influence the wait, waiting may be experienced as boredom; as the slowing down or stillness of time (Anderson in Brun, 2015).

For migrants in waiting, a future point in time is rarely given - instead, their wait is characterized by uncertainty in terms of both outcome and duration (Bendixen & Eriksen, 2018; Griffiths, 2014; Brekke, 2004; Rotter, 2016; Khosravi, 2017). Consequently, they tend to be unable to strategically plan, progress, invest in themselves (Griffiths et al., 2013) or move on (Brun, 2015), but rather grasp any opportunity for change (Johnson-Hanks in Griffiths et al., 2013). Griffiths (2014, p.2001) linked uncertainty to an inability to imagine “even the near future, confining people to living in the absolute present”. This, she noted, kept informants in a both desperate and passive state where fearing indefinite waiting was coupled with instant change potentially meaning a rejection.

Uncertainty has also been called a punishment to those in waiting (Schwartz in Khosravi, 2014), connected to a sense of powerlessness in lacking influence of the ending of the wait (Bendixen & Eriksen, 2018). It has been shown to affect asylum seekers’ well-being negatively (Hjern, 2012) conveying stress, learning difficulties and sleep deprivation (Brekke, 2004). A study on asylum seekers in Sweden moreover showed protracted waiting connected to more pessimistic views of the future and more symptoms of depression

(Firnhaber, 2004).

Brun (2015) called the prolonged wait of her informants a permanent impermanence, in which survival strategies were created to deal with the constant uncertainty (Brun, 2015). Correspondingly, the Palestinians interviewed in Bendixen and Eriksen’s (2018) study dealt with their uncertainty by setting the residence permit as a future focus - a “pivotal point in time” (Bendixen & Eriksen, 2018, p.94), with all undertakings directed towards this goal.

4.8 Reframing the passivity of waiting

Since nobody likes to wait, we try to repress, mask or deny it by distractions that are as bad as, or worse than, the waiting itself (Schweizer, 2016, p.81).

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Waiting has traditionally been considered a passive state (Rotter, 2016). Using the term liminality, a transitory state between two social positions or stages of life (Turner in Khosravi, 2014), Khosravi (2017) saw waiting as void of engagement, conveying

vulnerability due to the individual’s ambiguous social and structural status. Likewise, Hage (2009) identified a sense of stucked-ness as liminality turns into protracted waiting, the cornerstones of social life becoming suspended (Hage, 2009).

Rotter’s (2016) informants resented their enforced passivity, which differed strongly from their original ambition of coming to the UK. Without a residence permit, not being allowed to work, having little access to financial support leading to poverty, debt and unstable

accommodation their lives were shrouded in stress. This forced passivity thus made a final decision of residency being referred to by the participants as getting one’s normal life back (Rotter, 2016). Among Lennartsson’s (2007) and Rotter’s (2016) asylum-seeking informants, men were especially affected by enforced passivity, as gendered expectations of family provision could not be fulfilled (ibid.).

4.8.1. An active wait

In spite of its connotations to passivity, scholars have challenged this conception by

highlighting degrees of activity within the wait (cf. Bendixen & Eriksen, 2018; Bissell, 2007; Brun, 2015; Hage, 2009; Gasparini, 1995; Rotter, 2016). Brun (2015, p.24) notes that for immigrants in waiting, activity does not necessarily signify the ability to control or shape the future, but “denotes the capacity to act in the present”. Along the same lines, Dwyer (2009) denotes that in measuring activity, one cannot depart from perceptions based on a general capacity to act - instead, existing systems enable degrees of action (Dwyer, 2009).

Activity in waiting takes the shape of physical actions: searching for information regarding asylum processes and in everyday activities (Rotter, 2016). Yet it has also been depicted as a mental state - as engagement based on anticipation (Bendixen & Eriksen 2018), desire or dread (Rotter, 2016), described as “a constant monitoring of the likelihood that the events one is waiting for will occur and of how much time one is prepared to wait” (Marcel in Brun, 2015, p.23). And while Rotter’s (2016) informants phrased waiting as a time spent doing

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nothing, it was simultaneously a state of increased awareness of fears, desires and futures24. For Rotter (2016), waiting may even be productive in the sense that immigrants have time to prepare their asylum case and a more permanent residency in the receiving country. Activity also takes the shape of political organization, seen as a coping mechanism to deal with an open-ended wait for asylum (Bendixen & Eriksen, 2018).

4.9 Summarizing the frame

The above section provided a background of family reunification in Sweden and of waiting as part of the migratory process. As it appears, waiting is a fluid state full of oscillations. Both universal and subjective, it fluctuates between different perceptions of time, between hope and hopelessness, activity and passivity, certainty and uncertainty. It entails affective and mechanical processes, is both long-term and short-term, encompasses patience and

impatience where future expectations change over time, both longing for and dreading the end (Griffiths, 2014). It is a creation taking place in societies where efficiency is both valued and questioned, and where one’s waiting time may both cause harm while increasing a person’s chances of staying in a country.

No previous studies have undertaken waiting in the context of family reunification. Instead, studies on waiting and migration have tended to focus on a single migrant category (asylum seeker, internally displaced migrant, etc.). However, those waiting for family reunification constitute a unique group for several reasons. First, their wait encompasses several migrant categories and legal statuses in terms of residence, potentially affecting the mode of the wait. Secondly, their wait is directed toward someone rather than something (such as the granting of asylum), while another person is waiting in parallel. Third, in a Swedish context it is a group around which policies have remained unchanged for a long time, yet that is now notably debated and re-shaped. Adding the size of the group and its uniqueness as a policy field, waiting for family reunification is highly topical. As follows, the intended output of this thesis is to both contribute to the scholarly field of waiting and migration and to provide a greater understanding of the conditions for family reunification in Sweden.

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Boredom has similarly been depicted as active as it includes discomfort, restlessness, irritability (Barbalet in Brun 2015) or even suffering (Flaherty et al. in Griffiths et al., 2013)

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5. Method

5.1 Design and data collection

5.1.1 Semi-structured interviews

The thesis’ data consists of six semi-structured interviews, performed using guidelines provided in Eriksson-Zetterquist & Ahrne (2015) and Taylor, Bogdan & DeVault (2015). Concurring with the qualitative nature of the thesis, the method was deemed suitable as it conveys knowledge on social circumstances, exploring people’s feelings and experiences (ibid.).

Semi-structured interviews resemble a mutual dialogue yet is a narrative approach. Supported by an interview guide, the method enables focus while inviting wider perspectives of a topic (cf. Mason, 2004; Zetterquist-Eriksson & Ahrne, 2015). With an inductive approach (as recommended by Taylor, 2015), the interview guide initially held family reunification at the core of each interview. As themes were deducted from the initial interviews, focus shifted towards aspects of waiting within the process. Had a more structured interview method been used, the researcher’s own preferences might have skewed the interview in a different direction and excluded events not anticipated yet of importance to the informant (Mason, 2004). Finally, some elements typical for in-depth interviews were inevitable (such as mutual sharing of experiences or deeper understanding of values and certain cultural perspectives) (Zetterquist-Eriksson & Ahrne, 2015), as the author had previously established connections with four informants.

5.1.2 Identifying the participants

Four Arabic-proficient gatekeepers were provided information on inclusion criteria, the purpose of the study and other useful information (see Appendix 1). The gatekeepers

established contact with informants via phone calls and on Facebook, including a post on an Arabic-speaking group on family reunification in Sweden with approximately 11,000 members. For reasons of translation, interviews were offered in Arabic, English or Swedish. Some responses from the Facebook group insinuated a hope for assistance with their

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Two of the gatekeepers further noted that acquaintances in waiting were hesitant to participate, fearful it would affect the outcome of their case. Personal contacts proved the most fruitful method (five informants) and one informant responded to a Facebook post. When data saturation was met, no more interviews were conducted (cf. Zetterquist-Eriksson & Ahrne, 2015).

All informants were Syrian-born, one of whom was a stateless Palestinian. While possibly a result of the gatekeepers’ networks, Syrian citizenship holders and stateless persons do constitute two of the largest asylum-seeking groups in Sweden (Migrationsverket, 2018j). Likewise, five out of six informants were men, corresponding with their dominance among sponsors for family reunification in Sweden (Statistics Sweden, 2015). While gender roles ought to have affected the lived experiences and dynamics within the family (such as pressure to provide for the family or staying behind with the children), an analysis of such dimensions was beyond the scope of this thesis.

5.1.3 Conducting the interview

The interviews were prepared by piloting the interview guide with a translator present, and by obtaining knowledge on the family reunification process to discover any inconsistency in informants’ stories. Interviews were conducted face-to-face in March and April 2018 and lasted between 50 minutes to two hours. Face-to-face interaction was selected in line with Zetterquist-Eriksson & Ahrne’s (2015) advice to enable a more fluent conversation and an informal atmosphere. Facial expressions and body language may also add information to the interview and enhance the possibility to catch subtle meanings or misunderstandings (Irvine, Drew & Sainsbury, 2012), in part compensating for already existing language barriers. At the outset, the author presented her work in accordance with recommendations in Kvale (2007). Informants were reminded of the anonymous and voluntary nature of the interview and asked to consent to recording of the interview. To increase validity through verifying that the informant met the inclusion criteria, questions on residence status and family

reunification application were asked at an early stage of the interview. Less sensitive issues were placed at the beginning of the interview, following Zetterquist-Eriksson & Ahrne (2015).

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5.1.4 Translation and language

Language barriers may affect the information gathered in an interview (Eriksson-Zetterquist & Ahrne, 2015). While monetary limitations ruled out the employment of a licensed

interpreter, other bridging measures were taken. First, translators fluent in Swedish and Arabic were present at all interviews (approved by informants beforehand). Secondly, the translator and the interviewer met on several occasions to discuss the content of the interview guide, ensure a common understanding of questions and the ethical guidelines. With the help of an online guide on main rules for interpretation (Semantix, 2018), basic information such as the use of the first person singular and the inclusion of the full conversation regardless of its sensitive or inappropriate nature was emphasized to the translators. As the author’s own Arabic proficiency is at an intermediate level, this further helped reveal mistakes or

misunderstandings in the translation. Finally, when transcribed in full by the author,

translators listened to the recording and added anything to the transcripts that had been lost. As informants picked their preferred language, one interview was conducted in Swedish (asking the translator for aid when necessary), one in English and four in Arabic through translation. Transferring the material to this thesis, language errors not deemed to change the meaning were edited.

5.2. Methodology and analysis procedures

This thesis’ methodology, understood as the arguments built from the data analysis to defend conclusions drawn (6 & Bellamy, 2012, p.11) is of phenomenological nature. This is because it aims to qualitatively depict waiting as seen through the perspective of the informants (Taylor et al., 2015). Semi-structured interviews further rest on an ontology where knowledge is created in a specific situation and context (Mason, 2004).

In attempting to highlight informants’ experiences, the author inescapably approaches the subject from their own perspective (6 and Bellamy, 2012; Rosenberg, 2012). To compensate for this inability to fully reveal “preferences, experiences or ways of understanding the lives of people” (6 and Bellamy, 2012, p.15) through direct observation, a depiction of how inferences were drawn is presented below.

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5.2.1.Validity and reliability

As data from interviews is subjective and highly context-dependent, issues of reliability may arise. For this reason, the thesis used open coding in line with Taylor’s (et al.,2015)

recommendations. All transcripts were read twice while noting recurring topics and themes. Subsequently, the data was re-organized based on the themes found, enabling a clearer view of what lines of analysis to follow. Validity, understood as the degree to which data depicts the truth (6 and Bellamy, 2012), was achieved via different means. In terms of construct validity, waiting was operationalized through departing from a range of peer-reviewed articles and books found through Google scholar, SwePub, Liber and Malmö University’s Libsearch, as well as government-administered websites. In line with 6 and Bellamy (2012), elements found were then matched with the interview data. To enable an estimate of whether conclusions were warranted (achieving conclusion validity), references to the number of informants backing a statement were stated as far as possible in the data presentation. Semi-structured interviews do not aim to establish standardized comparisons between cases (achieving external validity) - instead, “comparison is based on the fullness of understanding each case” (Mason, 2004, p. 4). However, triangulation was used by exploring cases’

alignment to already existing literature, by double-checking translation and by contacting informants for clarification if any inconsistencies arose. Meanwhile, internal validity was not aimed for in the sense of depicting waiting as a causal factor in this study. Instead, the thesis aimed to explore the presence of certain elements of waiting within a specific migratory experience.

5.3 Ethical considerations

All informants were former asylum seekers, three of whom had reunited with their families and three who were still in waiting. Thus, they formed part of a vulnerable group with potentially traumatic past experiences, from which issues could be brought up due to the nature of the semi-structured interview (cf. Zetterquist-Eriksson & Ahrne, 2015). Informants who were still waiting further remained in an insecure and unstable situation. This led to a hightened awareness of ethical issues that could arise during the interview process. The author reflected on issues of positionality as interviews are affected by a number of factors including sex, age, ethnicity and location (cf. Zetterquist-Eriksson & Ahrne 2015). In

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this study, a previous teacher-student relation to three informants could influence their

willingness to be interviewed and must therefore be acknowledged (cf. Hand, 2003). Drawing on the work of Brekke (2004), where informants in waiting were notably aware of influences on their asylum cases, the interviewer sought to assure that all informants understood the confidential nature of the study and its academic purpose, and how it would no way affect their case. No current students at the researcher’s workplace were asked to participate to minimize any pressure to partake in the study. Informed consent was sought by the researcher twice - first by gatekeepers and again at the time of the interview, with the possibility to withdraw at any time being made clear to the informants (cf. Zetterquist-Eriksson & Ahrne, 2015).

Interviews were held at cafés, the researcher’s private home and at her workplace, as decided by each informant. Each interview was preceded by the distribution of the translator’s and the researcher’s contact details in case of any further inquiries. In the finalizing of the research, names, places or occurrences (such as specific dates) were replaced to ensure full

confidentiality (cf. Zetterquist-Eriksson & Ahrne, 2015).

In spite of above-mentioned efforts to minimize the effects of these factors, ensuring

voluntariness and informed consent is a particular challenge when researching groups such as refugees (Leaning, 2001). Thus, while the researcher acknowledged that their influence could not be fully eliminated, all efforts were sought to minimize this through a process of constant reflection throughout the research process.

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6. Findings: Living in family separation

Below, the data retrieved from the interviews is presented. Departing from the experiences of Mohammad, Manal, Ahmed, Nour, Waheed and Nasuh, themes deducted from the interviews form the baseline of the narrative.

6.1 Introducing the informants: preparing the wait

Mohammad, a 42-year-old Syrian citizen, escaped the Syrian civil war to ensure the safety of his four children, knowing “it would be very difficult for them during the war”. Planning the move with his wife, they financed the trip by selling some gold and borrowing money from close ones. Uncertain of the outcome of his trip and especially the boat across the

Mediterranean, they split the money to ensure his wife had enough to get by for a few months, until they expected to meet again.

***

Ahmed, a 33-year-old Syrian man similarly left his beach-town home in June of 2015. He came not out of will, “but because I had to”. As the war went on he had started worrying about the future and a potential recruitment to the army, with his daughter’s safety at stake. Not having studied much in Syria, he was not expecting to achieve much in Sweden short term. Instead, the plan was for his wife to aim for a Master’s degree while their daughter would be enrolled in school. He figured he would have to wait three or four months until given a residence permit, and that the family reunification process would take - at most- one year.

***

To Nasuh, a 44-year-old Palestinian Syrian, leaving Syria was a decision made quickly, fearing prison due to his political involvement against the regime. He left his wife behind who was pregnant with their fourth child, to whom she gave birth after his arrival in Turkey where he stayed for a few months. His arrival in Sweden was filled with relief and excitement to start a life and integratory process he had heard about from his friends in Turkey - “I knew all about the system here and what would happen /.../and it was fun to experience it first hand”.

***

Waheed, a 26-year-old Syrian citizen, found himself without a sense of home in Lebanon after escaping the war. Moving to Turkey in 2014, he soon realized he was not making

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enough money to save for emergencies and decided to move forward. Planning his move to Sweden together with his wife living in Damascus, the couple imagined an economically stable future; their goal being to enrol in a Swedish university and have a child while studying. In September 2015, a year and a half after moving to Istanbul, Waheed arrived in Sweden and applied for asylum. Comparing his case to friends already in place, he expected that his family reunification process would take at most a year.

***

Born in Syria, 44-year-old Manal moved to Dubai in 1986 where she led a “normal life” until the Syrian war started. “I have my car, I have my life, friends, my sister, my brother. I didn’t feel like there’s anything wrong. I felt like it’s my country.” Married and a mother of two adult children, the family’s life changed “one hundred percent” during the war in their homeland, as Syrians were increasingly dismissed from their workplaces in Dubai. With her residence permit tied to her workplace, a termination of the latter would mean having to return. Thus, when Manal’s husband was notified that he may soon have to leave his workplace the children were sent to Sweden for safety, fearing forced return to Syria.

Knowing that permanent residence permits were given and that citizenship was granted after five years of residency, subsequent family reunification was the plan for Manal and her husband. Her contract was terminated a year later, after 17 years of working as a cosmetic manager. Seeing no further options, she too left via a visa to Italy to Sweden in 2015 leaving her husband behind.

***

Finally, Nour, a 42-year-old man, had been able to do “whatever he wanted and liked” before he lost his house in the Syrian war and moved to Lebanon. However, life proved challenging - “it is really difficult to live in Lebanon if you are from Syria. And I thought of travelling to another country where I can rebuild my future.”Working with indoor decorations, he planned his move together with his wife, who would later become encompassed in his family

reunification application. While familiar with Sweden as a society through a relative, he did not know that the wait for family reunification would be so long.

6.2 Arriving in Sweden: time at the refugee camp

Mohammad, Nasuh and Waheed waited for asylum in refugee camps throughout the country. Mohammad and Waheed remembered time as being spent sitting around “or lying down on the camping ground”, “not doing anything”. This time, Mohammad noted, “we could have

Affective Waiting: Experiences of Family Reunification in Sweden