Because integration is a democratic imperative

At this point, it is necessary to clarify what 'integration' really means and why formal equality often proves insufficient. Anderson defines segregation precisely: on the one hand, there are structures and norms that prevent contact between groups; on the other hand, there is a hierarchical segregation of roles, which means that when contact does occur, it is in terms of domination and subordination. Integration is the negation of both. It is a complete intergroup association on the basis of equality, implying full inclusion and participation as equals in the decisive social domains, in the institutions that distribute recognition, educational and economic advancement, access to public goods and political influence. From this conceptualisation it follows that aiming at 'desegregation' alone is not enough. Removing legal barriers and enforcing anti-discriminatory norms is necessary, but it may leave intact exclusionary territorial patterns, closed networks, customs that reproduce distance; and, with them, the conditions for stigma, embarrassment and a politics incapable of looking at the world from the periphery.

The usefulness of the Andersonian argument lies in showing how it is perfectly possible to combat segregation in a concrete but completely ineffective manner. One can lift an explicit ban, one can change the rules and criteria for access, and yet the informal practices remain. Schools become formally open to all, but continue to be attended by different 'populations' because neighbourhoods and catchment areas remain separate. There may even be physical coexistence in the same spaces - the same buildings, the same facilities, the same corridors - but even here social distance may survive despite spatial proximity. Same school, different addresses; same hospital, but different routes.

This is why Anderson insists on the need for a further step. Integration, to become real, needs not only common spaces, but roles and rules that make cooperation inevitable and not hierarchical. It is not enough to be in the same place: things must be done together, with common responsibilities and criteria. This is where the issue of 'de-labelling' of roles comes in. Formal integration requires that all groups be present in all roles in sufficient numbers so that those roles are not identified with a race or class: Ukrainian caregivers, Filipino waiters, Bergamasque bricklayers, North African 'maranza', Roma pickpockets, Milanese sciure... If roles remain 'labelled', coexistence ends up reproducing status instead of correcting it.

And even if this level of integration were achieved, the most difficult stage would still remain: that of informal integration, of relationships that go beyond duty, friendships, social networks that feed on trust and generate transversal solidarity. It is within these networks, in fact, that the other ceases to be an abstraction and becomes a concrete person.

This is the crucial and critical point at the same time. For it is precisely here that what Anderson calls 'contact discrimination' can creep in: avoidance, exclusion from networks and thus from opportunities, all without the need for any formal norm to be broken. It is the separateness of lives, not the obstruction of norms, that decrees exclusion and generates segregation. It is not enough to integrate spaces, therefore: roles and, as far as possible, life circuits must be integrated. Otherwise, segregation only changes form and, from an external retaining wall, becomes an internal partition.

In the light of this discourse it is also easier to understand the meaning of affirmative action, which Anderson understands broadly, namely as any policy that increases the participation of a disadvantaged group in 'mainstream' institutions. This is neither paternalism nor self-stigmatisation: beneficiaries are not 'passive victims', but agents of integration and destigmatisation, necessary partners in breaking down barriers that block access to opportunities. "They earn their place precisely because they contribute to institutional goals through performance in the role" (pp. 150-151), writes the philosopher. If the cause of injustice were only intentional discrimination, it would suffice to ban it. But if the causes are structural, procedural neutrality risks leaving the machine that produces exclusion intact.

This is where the issue, often trivialised in the public debate, of 'colour-blind' policies comes in: policies explicitly designed to be neutral with respect to issues of race and social group, striving for total impartiality. Anderson is quite critical of this approach. She carefully distinguishes between, on the one hand, the moral ideal of a world in which race is no longer the basis for 'social inequality, segregation or stigmatisation' (p. 155) and, on the other, the attempt to transform that ideal into a policy rule that rejects race-conscious tools. This distinction avoids a short-circuit: using the force of the ideal to impose, in a non-ideal world, policies that ignore structures of segregation still operating at the informal social level. In this sense, not even perfect enforcement of anti-discrimination laws, Anderson insists, would suffice to eliminate segregation and stigmatisation. True integration is not mere mixing, but equal participation.

At this point the discourse can return to the places where inclusion and exclusion take shape. The school, first of all, is not only an educational institution: it is a civic laboratory, the place where one learns what it means to cooperate among equals. At the same time, however, it can also be the place where a form of subtle segregation operates daily: the same building, but separate 'social corridors', groups that do not talk to each other. The same applies to places of living. The city is not a collection of houses, but a web of mobility, services and networks that decide who meets whom, who accesses what opportunities, who stays away from the connections that matter.

In the world of work, perhaps, integration can advance more rapidly, because cooperation is required by the organisation itself, which (im)poses common goals, defined responsibilities, interactions not left to the spontaneity of private preferences. It is no coincidence,' Anderson observes on this point, 'that in the public sector and in the world of education, progress has been more consistent, also thanks to anti-discrimination laws and affirmative action. And finally, there is representation, where the argument becomes more radical: segregation and democracy are not simply in tension. True democracy is, in fact, first and foremost equal citizenship, discussion between equals, cooperation between citizens. If significant social groups remain isolated, public action loses grip and control.

After all, everything was already there in the opening scene in the emergency room. Inclusion is what allows a right to become a path: to orient oneself, to be taken care of, not to be left alone in the face of complexity. Segregation breaks this possibility in two: it separates people from the resources that make institutions liveable and it separates institutions from the experiences that make them intelligent. This is why integration is not so much a chapter of good civic manners as a criterion of political design. It is not enough to open doors: it is necessary to ensure that the common space fosters bonds, produces shared competences and arouses mutual responsibilities.