1. Introduction
The EU has made various attempts to establish a legal framework that will guarantee access to social protection for all EU citizens living in a different European country from their own, but differing migration fluxes present diverse problems for the effective applicability of this legal framework. In this article, we address the specific case of international retirement migrants (IRM), investigating the use of Spanish social services by elderly Europeans living in municipalities along the Spanish coastline.
Retirement migration is not a widespread phenomenon. Although it may have little impact on the social services of the sending countries, nevertheless the opposite is often the case in destination areas. Retirement migrants tend to cluster in locations where they constitute a sizeable share of the elderly residents and, hence, of the potential applicants for public eldercare services. In some Spanish municipalities, more than 50 per cent of elderly residents come from a different EU country (Durán, Reference Durán2012: 153).
Results from recent research projects indicate that substantial numbers of retirement migrants return to their countries of origin when their care needs reach a certain level (Hall and Hardill, Reference Hall and Hardill2016; Giner and Simó, Reference Giner, Simó, Mazón, Huete and Mantecón2009; Giner et al., Reference Giner, Hall and Betty2016), but scholars have also identified IRMs who strongly resist returning even in the face of increasing constraints on autonomy, and who are consequently forced to devise complex strategies to obtain care in their settlement location. Such strategies often involve a mix of public, private and voluntary care provision, although the precise combination is determined by the economic, social and cultural resources of each individual. We have described elsewhere the characteristics of the private market of care services available in IRM destination areas (Gavanas and Calzada, Reference Gavanas, Calzada, Palenga-Möllenbeck and Kilkey2015; Reference Gavanas and Calzada2016), and there are some interesting contributions to the literature on the caring role played by IRM associations (Woube, Reference Woube, Blaakilde and Nilsson2013; Haas, Reference Haas2013; Legido-Quigley and McKee, Reference Legido-Quigley and McKee2012). In this article, we address the third and less-researched option of care provision for IRMs: the public social services of the host country.
We aim to assess the extent to which this group of migrants makes use of their social rights in Spain, as well as how Spanish public officials deal with their demands. For the most part, the article is based on qualitative semi-structured interviews with 19 social workers tasked with evaluating needs and assigning specific services to claimants in ten localities characterised by a sizeable population of retirement migrants. However, this work is part of a larger project, and the information provided by these social workers has been compared and contextualized with the general picture obtained over the entire course of the fieldwork (200 interviews with retirement migrants and service providers in 24 Spanish locations).
2. Theoretical framework
Retirement migration
Retirement migration is generally conceptualised as a particular type of lifestyle migration that certain individuals engage in after their retirement from regular work. Although there is not a clear-cut definition, Benson and O'Reilly (Reference Benson and O'Reilly2009: 609) describe lifestyle migrants as ‘relatively affluent individuals of all ages, moving either part-time or full-time to places that, for various reasons, signify, for the migrant, a better quality of life.’ These migrants are ‘driven by consumption rather than production’ (Oliver, Reference Oliver and Betts2011:133), and the voluntary component of their decision to relocate is generally stressed (Blaakilde and Nilsson, Reference Blaakilde, Nilsson, Blaakilde and Nilsson2013: 16).
The migration of pensioners to a different area, often characterised by a better climate and a wider range of amenities, has generated a considerable amount of research over the past three decades. Initially, it was the internal migration of US retirees to Sunbelt states that caught the attention of scholars working in the field of migration (for a summary, see Longino and Bradley, Reference Longino, Bradley, Binstock and George2005). Research on the European correlate of this phenomenon (i.e., the relocation of elderly citizens from northern to southern European countries) started slightly later, in the mid 1990s, but has provided ample new perspectives. From the year 2000 onwards, there have been several attempts to understand intra-European retirement migration led by scholars from either the sending or the destination countries of elderly migrants. Academics have researched the socio-demographic characteristics and motives behind the migration of IRMs (Casado-Díaz, Reference Casado-Díaz2006; Durán, Reference Durán2012; Rodriguez et al., Reference Rodríguez, Fernández-Mayoralas and Rojo2004), their housing preferences (Gibler et al., 2009), the strategies developed to keep in contact with friends and family in the home country (Åkerlund, Reference Åkerlund2013), the problems encountered in the process of settlement (Huete and Mantecón, Reference Huete and Mantecón2013), the new routines and daily activities of retired migrants (Haug et al., Reference Haug, Dann and Mehmetoglu2007; Karisto, Reference Karisto, Blaakilde and Nilsson2013), and so on. Two additional (but much less traversed) avenues for research should be mentioned as well: the perceptions and opinions of other actors involved in or affected by retirement migration, and the macro-level impact of this phenomenon on the destination sites.
With respect to the study of other actors, Nudrali and O'Reilly (Reference Nudrali, O'Reilly, Benson and O'Reilly2009) and Bayir and Shah (Reference Bayir and Shah2012) reflect on the reactions of the local population to the presence of British retirement migrants in Turkish villages. Domínguez Mujica and Parreño Castellano (Reference Domínguez Mujica and Parreño Castellano2014) and Gavanas and Calzada (Reference Gavanas, Calzada, Palenga-Möllenbeck and Kilkey2015) detail the variety of workers and entrepreneurs who provide services to IRMs in Spain. To the extent of the author's knowledge, this is the first article to highlight the opinions and experiences of social workers serving in areas with a high concentration of retirement migrants.
With regard to studies on the impact of retirement migration, we find more extensive research in the US than in Europe, possibly due to the fact that US scholars can draw on more reliable data than their European counterparts. The within-country nature of retirement migration in the US facilitates the measurement of migration flows, allowing correlations to be made between the arrival of retirement migrants and other social and economic trends (Cromartie and Nelson, Reference Cromartie and Nelson2009; Sharma, Reference Sharma2015). In Europe, this type of impact assessment has been hindered by the lack of reliable information on the actual number of retirement migrants living in settlement areas. Many retirement migrants never register as residents in their municipalities of settlement (Casado-Díaz and Rodríguez, Reference Casado-Díaz and Rodríguez2002; Rodríguez et al., Reference Rodríguez, Fernández-Mayoralas and Rojo2004), and correlations between socio-economic and IRM trends can provide at best tentative results. These difficulties notwithstanding, attempts have been made to assess the environmental impact of retirement migration (Zasada et al., Reference Zasada, Alves, Müller, Piorr, Berges and Bell2010) and the associated effects on housing markets (Rodriguez et al., Reference Rodríguez, Huber and Casado-Díaz2000). Although several scholars have expressed an interest (and some concern) regarding the impact that intra-European retirement migration may have on public welfare programmes, research on this particular issue has been scarce. Only a handful of studies have addressed the use of public health services by IRMs, and these have reached contradictory conclusions. Casado-Díaz (Reference Casado-Díaz2006) implemented a non-random survey of elderly retirees who own houses in Torrevieja (Spain), finding that a large majority ‘rarely’ or ‘never’ used the Spanish public healthcare services. By contrast, the ethnographic research conducted by Legido-Quigley and McKee (Reference Legido-Quigley and McKee2012) on British pensioners living on the Spanish coast concluded that these individuals extensively use (and are satisfied with) these services.
Legal studies on the social rights of IRMs (Ackers and Dwyer, Reference Ackers and Dwyer2004; Dwyer and Papadimitriou, Reference Dwyer and Papadimitriou2006) point to the complexity and unevenness of social protection for this group, but no previous study (that I am aware of) has tried to assess the actual use that retirement migrants make of the social services in their host country. I believe that this issue is worthy of investigation because it can have such a drastic impact on both IRMs and local services.
From the point of view of retirement migrants, social services may be the only option for those who want to remain in Spain until the end of their lives. The income of many IRMs might be sufficient to pay for private health insurance but it is rarely enough to afford private care services when dependency sets in (Oliver and O'Reilly, Reference Oliver and O'Reilly2010; Blaakilde, Reference Blaakilde, Blaakilde and Nilsson2013). In addition, the growing trend toward relocation in later life as an economic strategy (Hayes, Reference Hayes2014) increases the number of IRMs who, having sold their properties to fund their migration, cannot easily return to their native countries.
From the perspective of the host country's social services, retirement migrants can constitute a sizeable share of claimants in certain areas. Town council registers show that more than 25 per cent of the residents in many municipalities along the Spanish coastline come from a different EU country (mainly Germany, the UK and Scandinavian countries plus Norway); in a non-negligible number of municipalities, this percentage is over 50 per cent (Huete and Mantecón, Reference Huete and Mantecón2011; Durán, Reference Durán2012). Even if only a minority of these elderly residents decide not to return home, their presence and needs may represent a challenge for social and healthcare services. This concern has been expressed for many years now, from the pioneering studies on IRMs in Spain (Jurdao and Sánchez, Reference Jurdao and Sánchez1990) to very recent research efforts (Casado-Díaz, Reference Casado-Díaz2006; Gibler et al., 2009; Durán, Reference Durán2012).
Social services in Spain
Like the other Mediterranean countries, Spain is an uncertain fit in the well-established welfare typologies (Esping-Andersen, Reference Esping-Andersen1990; Korpi and Palme, Reference Korpi and Palme1998). One of the main reasons for this misfit is that welfare systems in Southern Europe, and particularly in Spain, combine programmes similar in design to those in the Nordic countries (universal and high-quality public healthcare services, high replacement rate for pensions and unemployment benefits) with others that resemble those of Liberal welfare states: means-tested and with meagre benefits. This has led various scholars to suggest the need to include a fourth type of welfare state: the ‘Southern’, ‘Mediterranean’, or ‘Familistic’ welfare model (Leibfried, Reference Leibfriedss, Pierson and Castles1992; Ferrera, Reference Ferrera1996; Bonoli, Reference Bonoli1997). This last term is possibly the one that best captures the idiosyncrasies of the model, since the entire system is based on the assumption that although the state is responsible for providing healthcare, education, and pensions, all care needs should be provided for within the family.
Up until 2006, the residual state intervention in care consisted of a means-tested, underfunded, fragmented, and decentralised scheme of personal services run by regional governments and municipalities that catered only to those in the most urgent need. In 2007, the country witnessed a major attempt to reform the public system of care with the coming into force of the ‘Law on the Promotion of Personal Autonomy and Care for Dependent Persons’ (known as the ‘Dependency Law’), which established a national public programme of care called SAAD (System of Autonomy and Dependency Care). This programme, implemented through a combination of direct service provision and cash transfers, features universal coverage; its funding was expected to be shared between the central government (1/3), the regions (1/3), and users’ co-payments (1/3) (Moreno-Fuentes, Reference Moreno-Fuentes and Pino2015).
At present, the old and new programmes of public care coexist. SAAD provides help to residents in Spain with upper-middle and high levels of dependency, but the programme's application was delayed for individuals with low levels of dependency (due to the economic crisis). The old means-tested system is used to provide care services for those with low dependency levels and to assist people in extreme need who do not meet the criteria to access SAAD. Social workers are the gatekeepers of both programmes: they manage the applications to SAAD, organise the evaluations of dependency and, in the case of the old programme of means-tested benefits, perform the evaluation of needs and resources for each claimant and decide on the amount and nature of public help that will be received.
3. Methodology
This article is based on a large research project on retirement migration to Spain. One of the aims of this project was to understand how IRMs manage to secure the goods and services that they need in Spain, with a special focus on the relationships between all the actors involved. The full fieldwork comprises 80 interviews with Swedish retirement migrants and 120 interviews with people who provide services for them. These interviews were conducted over two years (2013–14) in 24 different villages along the Spanish coastline.
Interviews
The interviews, which lasted about an hour, were guided by semi-structured questionnaires. The sample of service providers includes salaried workers in planned communities and compounds for retirement migrants, small entrepreneurs (health & beauty, catering, travel & leisure, home services, eldercare), the self-employed (translation, repairs, cleaning, care), and also several public-sector workers whose duties put them in frequent contact with IRMs – in particular, information officers (in hospitals, cultural centres, tourist offices and offices for foreign residents) and social workers. With regard to this last category, we interviewed 19 social workers in ten villages characterised by substantial numbers of retirement migrants among their residents. Fifteen social workers were based in public offices, two had been hired as coordinators of caregivers in private companies used by town councils to provide publicly funded care services, and two were salaried workers in private hospitals oriented toward northern European retirement migrants. Although the project focused on the migration of elderly Swedish citizens to Spanish destinations, interviews with social workers were not restricted to their relationships with retirees from this particular country, leaving room for reflections on the effect that retirement migration (in general) was having on their daily work.
The results presented here are primarily based on the interviews with social workers, although we contextualize their discourses using the information gathered from the rest of the fieldwork project, particularly the interviews with other individuals working in the field of eldercare for IRMs: specifically, caregivers working formally (3) or informally (4) in the private market and owners (3) of small companies that provide care services for northern Europeans.
Locations
The fieldwork was carried out in two of the most popular Spanish destinations for retirement migration: the province of Málaga (Costa del Sol) and the Canary Islands. The municipalities chosen for the fieldwork are key settlement spots for Scandinavian retirees. Although pensioners from other EU countries are also present in large numbers (larger than Scandinavians), our findings are definitely conditioned by this biased selection. Given the fact that retirement migrants from Nordic countries may be the least prone to use Spanish social services (due to relatively high old-age pensions and extended public eldercare), our results may underestimate the impact of retirement migration on the social services.
Anonymity issues prevent us from disclosing the exact numbers of elderly foreign residents in the municipalities where the fieldwork took place, but we can present some data on the scale of the phenomenon in the areas under study to provide an idea of its potential implications for local policy.
In the province of Málaga, 17 per cent of elderly residents (+65) have a foreign nationality. This percentage is around 10 per cent in the two provinces of the Canary Islands. In both Costa del Sol and the Canary Islands, elderly foreign residents are heavily concentrated in certain municipalities. In 21 out of the 101 municipalities in Málaga, more than 30 per cent of elderly residents have a foreign nationality and, in six of these 21 municipalities, foreigners constitute more than half of elderly residents. The same can be said of the Canary Islands: in 12 out of the 88 Canarian municipalities we find, among the residents aged 65 and older, that more than 30 per cent are foreigners. In seven of these 12 villages, the majority of elderly residents have a foreign nationality. The presence of non-Spanish elderly people is unusual in other areas of Spain. Although 10 per cent of residents in Spain have a foreign nationality, the percentage falls to 3 per cent among those over 65 years old. The province of Madrid (where the Spanish capital is located) features 13 per cent foreign residents, but only 2 per cent of residents over the age of 65 have a foreign nationality, with little variation in this percentage across the 179 villages situated in the province (data from the Spanish Statistical Office – INE).
4. Social workers and retirement migrants
Do retirement migrants use social services at all?
In the majority of the municipalities, social workers told us that retirement migrants constitute a minority of those who receive in-home help or cash transfers. However, in a large area of Isla del Sol that includes most of the villages where retirement migrants settle, applications coming from this group have increased steadily over the past ten years, currently amounting to around 20 per cent of care recipients. This represents a source of concern for social workers. More than 30 per cent of the elderly residents in this area have a foreign nationality; oddly, this percentage is higher in municipalities where social workers told us that applications from IRMs were rare.
Independent of the share of retirement migrants among the applicants, social workers share a common perception of the process by which IRMs enter into contact with the social services. In their view, IRMs arrive in Spain when they are relatively young and in a good mental and physical state, and they generally come in couples. For some years, they enjoy an active social life and engage in a variety of outdoor activities with little contact with Spaniards or Spanish institutions. This in-group life, depicted in previous studies (O'Reilly, Reference O'Reilly2007; Rodríguez et al., Reference Rodríguez, Fernández-Mayoralas and Rojo2004; Huete and Mantecón, Reference Huete and Mantecón2011; Haug et al., Reference Haug, Dann and Mehmetoglu2007), was repeatedly mentioned during our fieldwork, with expressions such as ‘each one lives in their own population cluster’, ‘they live in a parallel society’, and ‘it is a colony’.
Thus, in the beginning, these retirees are happy, active, social and not particularly integrated into Spanish society. But at some point, difficulties emerge. Mobility constraints can complicate daily life: cleaning the house, visiting the doctor, and going grocery shopping require ever more time and effort, especially because many of the areas where retirement migrants live are located kilometres away from the city centre. Social life and outdoor activities may also be restricted by health conditions (Legido-Quigley and McKee, Reference Legido-Quigley and McKee2012). The death of one's partner can result in isolation and a substantial reduction in disposable income. In the face of situations such as these, many IRMs return to their native countries. The extent of return migration is difficult to assess, but this phenomenon has been detected by qualitative studies on frail IRMs (Hall and Hardill, Reference Hall and Hardill2016), quantitative analysis of surveys and town council registers (Giner et al., 2015), and also by studies on the death registers of foreign retirees living in Spain (Giner and Simó, Reference Giner, Simó, Mazón, Huete and Mantecón2009). In light of the fact that most of the 120 service providers interviewed during the course of our fieldwork perceive return migration to be a major trend (even a massive trend), we can safely assume that a substantial number of IRMs do indeed return at some point.
But there are, of course, others who decide to stay in Spain until the very end, a desire that was mentioned in several of our interviews with service providers with a hint of admiration:
You can find an 80-year-old living alone perfectly well. They want to continue like that until they are at death's door. (Martina, information officer, Foreign Residents Office, Torremoros, Costa del Sol)
[. . .] if they can move, they stay here. (Nora, Foreign Residents Office, Tejar del Monte, Costa del Sol)
I think most of the pensioners are really. . . I think they're tough, I think they're really brave. (Ingrid, private home nurse, Altamirano, Costa del Sol)
Social workers are far less appreciative of this behaviour. Remaining in Spain after dependency sets in is considered a risky decision, understandable only in relation to cultural differences in attachment to homeland and family, or to beliefs about the healing effects of light and weather that some view as misguided. During our fieldwork, we were able to observe how those who were determined to stay in Spain sought to mobilise various resources (economic, cultural, social) in order to obtain care services through the market, voluntary associations, and their personal social networks. It is only when all their strategies fail that the social services step in.
Carlota: I have a bunch of retirees that would live much better in Germany, you know? And they don't want to go.
Interviewer: They don't want to?
Carlota: With super-low pensions that aren't even enough to pay the rent here. They would possibly be able to get into an elderly home there [in Germany]. Here, they don't have anything. They just don't want to leave.
(Carlota, social worker, Santa Brígida, Isla del Sol)
The decision to die in Spain is also interpreted by social workers in negative terms, as a forced choice when one has nowhere else to go. As Benson and O'Reilly (Reference Benson and O'Reilly2009) stress, ‘many lifestyle migrants have had to consolidate all their economic resources to move (lock, stock, and barrel, as it were)’ (2009: 619).
[. . .] he was an Englishman, he had a small pension from England, and he lived in an abandoned building close to here. And. . . and he lived here until he died. But. . . so very skinny, with loads of health problems and. . . What he said was, ‘I've been here so many years that I have no links with England’ (Jimena, social worker, Santa Brígida, Isla del Sol)
First contact with public social services
There are two types of first contact between IRMs and social services: individuals who approach the social services in person and voluntarily, and generally fail to obtain access to public provision, and those who are unwillingly brought into contact due to their extreme situation, and who are granted some kind of public help.
According to the social workers interviewed, few retirement migrants approach the social services to inquire about the procedures necessary to receive public in-home care. These few correspond to the more ‘integrated’ IRMs: people who can speak some Spanish, are registered as residents in the municipality where they live, and have social or family relationships with Spaniards (they married a Spaniard, or their children married Spaniards and now live in Spain). However, the two overlapping programmes of public care generally disqualify them from receiving the potential benefits. Those with old-age pensions that exceed Spanish standards are excluded from the old means-tested programme of eldercare. And until they reach a severe level of dependency, they are excluded from the new SAAD system of universal coverage, which has only been implemented for medium and severe dependency levels (although the end of 2015 witnessed the initial steps to expand SAAD's coverage also to low levels of dependency).
In most cases, however, the social worker is not contacted directly by the retirement migrant in need of help but by some other actor. In the majority of cases, a doctor alerts the social services after having treated an IRM whom they perceive to be in a state of need or abandonment. Alternatively, the medical staff of a public or private hospital, after performing surgery on an elderly European, may determine that she/he cannot be sent home unattended. Apart from medical professionals, it can also be a friend or a neighbour who asks the social services to intervene. In the most extreme situations, the social worker is contacted by the president of the homeowners’ association where the IRM lives because her/his deterioration is evident: rubbish piled at the door or a bad smell coming from the apartment.
It seems clear that some retirement migrants with serious care needs are unable to develop strategies to obtain care and remain without assistance until a third party intervenes. These interventions are not generally welcomed by the retirement migrant, making them ‘difficult’ cases:
[. . .] it has been quite difficult to work with them [retirement migrants], and quite difficult to include them in the public system of social services. I believe that they have an idea very. . . very. . . very independent. While they can manage by themselves, they don't ask for anything. They don't want anything. (Adriana, social worker, Torremoros, Costa del Sol)
Workers in public and private eldercare services share the impression that IRMs in general, and Scandinavian IRMs in particular, value personal autonomy above all and fiercely resist any interference in their privacy. They are perceived as highly reluctant to receive assistance, even in the face of severe autonomy problems. Having a clean house or eating a hot meal every day are put aside for the sake of independent living; this astonishes the social workers, who consider these to be key elements of a good quality of life. Encarni, a social worker in Isla Bonita, explained that retirement migrants resort to the social services only when all their efforts to live independently have failed, and this reluctance to receive external care services was also mentioned by private caregivers and owners of small care-service companies.
A lot of. . . a lot of older people down here really need help. My. . . I've been putting out my adverts, the one you found, for three years now. It's still very difficult for older people to admit that they need help. They need it, but it. . . it. . . they'll leave it to the last minute, you know? (Viivi, private nurse assistant, Altamirano, Costa del Sol)
The process of receiving public elderly care
Once the social services are contacted, a social worker must evaluate the care needs and care resources of the claimant, verify that she/he complies with the requirements to access public help, and design a care strategy that meets the person's needs. However, this process is riddled with difficulties when the person in question is an elderly foreigner.
Language barriers
The first problem that social workers encounter with retirement migrants is the lack of a common language. As previous scholars have pointed out, few IRMs can speak Spanish (Casado-Díaz, Reference Casado-Díaz2006; O'Reilly, Reference O'Reilly2007; Woube, Reference Woube, Blaakilde and Nilsson2013; Jeppsson Grassman and Taghizadeh Larsson, Reference Jeppsson Grassman, Taghizadeh Larsson, Blaakilde and Nilsson2013), and only a minority of social workers speak fluent English. Although some feel sympathetic with regard to the difficulty of learning a new language in old age, others are slightly irritated by this ‘illogical’ behaviour. In terms of the language proficiency of social workers, some interviewees were attending language courses, but many indicated (perhaps defensively) that they were under no obligation to know or learn languages other than Spanish.
They don't speak Spanish. They have made null effort to learn Spanish. They go to their Scandinavian cafes. . . We've always commented on this issue in the service [elderly care]. It's our major problem when we get a case – the fact that they've been here 13 years and they haven't made the least effort to learn the language. (Encarni, social worker, Rosario, Isla Bonita)
Applicants to the social services are asked to bring an accompanying translator and, in some public offices, the need for a translator is clearly indicated by posters in the entrance. However, not every IRM can bring a translator, and those who did not want help in the first place will certainly not pay for one. In one of the areas under study, a social worker long ago created a group of voluntary interpreters that is now widely used in the local healthcare and social services offices. Social workers in the area expressed a belief that helping retirement migrants would be completely impossible without the assistance of this group of voluntary interpreters.
But, in most places, there is no such association and communication solutions must be improvised for each particular case. In some instances, the social worker relies on the voluntary help of a friend or colleague who happens to speak the language of the claimant:
I manage thanks to a friend of mine who can speak Swedish. (Micaela, social worker, Santa Brígida)
One of the girls who works here can speak languages, but it's not the case that we have a real interpreter here. (Claudia, social worker, Serruno, Isla del Sol)
It was the friend of a neighbour, whose mother language was also Nordic I believe, who. . . mediated for us, who was giving the explanations [to the retirement migrant]. . . Then, at the beginning, it did take quite an effort to get into the house. (Maria del Mar, social worker, Taboga, Isla del Sol)
In villages with an established Foreign Residents Office (FRO), the social worker may be assisted by the information officer, although this task falls outside the responsibilities of the FRO. Another option is to contact the corresponding association for elderly residents (depending on the nationality of the claimant), or even to ask for the altruistic help of a private provider of care services who speaks the required language.
The social services, for what I know, they come into the picture when there is a person who has been completely abandoned. There was once the case of a German man who was really abandoned in his home. His wife had died five years previously, he had no contact with his family, and apparently he had had a fight with his daughters. . . And finally, the neighbours said that the house smelled bad, and they called the social services. And they [the social workers] asked me to give them a hand in speaking with this man and. . . And the house was. . . It was a disaster, like those things that you can see on TV. (Marlenne, owner of a small care-service company for elderly northern Europeans, San Pancracio, Isla del Sol)
Problems related to lack of integration
Once communication is established, the social worker must ascertain the care needs and care resources of the claimant. However, many of the ‘extreme’ cases that reach the social services involve individuals who are still registered as residents in their native countries and do not appear in Spanish records: their pension has not been transferred to Spanish Social Security, and they have no Spanish NHS card, medical record, or assigned doctor. They may have lived in Spain for many years, but their lack of integration makes them invisible until they fall into a situation of serious need. Gathering the information required to evaluate the needs and resources of unregistered retirement migrants can be a long and complicated process.
From the hospital or from somewhere else, they send the case to us. Then, it's us who have to go to the house [of the retirement migrant], and many, many times we have to beg him to. . . to please sign the application for home help; beg him to try to register as a Spanish resident. (Adriana, social worker, Torremoros, Costa del Sol)
The first step is to contact the partner of the person in need (if there is one) or some of their friends to determine whether they can be part of a care strategy. Failing this, the social worker will ask the national consulate to contact family members in the country of origin, although various social workers described problematic situations in which the IRM did not want to speak with her/his family and was forced into establishing undesired contact. Legally, access to public eldercare requires five years of registration in Spain but, in critical situations, a flexible approach is adopted. Paperwork is limited to the minimum, and access criteria are ignored:
I think she was Danish, but I don't remember well. And I managed to include her in the home assistance service but. . . as I tell you, with barely any documentation. Almost making up the documents myself because the poor woman was so very, very ill. . . (Adriana, social worker, Torremoros, Costa del Sol)
The general sentiment among social workers is that they must help this new group of claimants with all available means, and most believe lack of information on the Spanish care system to be at the roots of IRMs problems. However, some do have suspicions. A few of our interviewees wonder if behaviours such as avoiding registration as Spanish residents are really due to misinformation or, on the contrary, to a well-informed strategy designed to take full advantage of the two welfare systems.
There is a game of cat-and-mouse that sometimes we have to stop, because of course they must. . . We know that they're well informed, you know? Some more, some less, but those who are informed do know the public programmes that they can access, and they tell you, and they know how to. . . let's say, game the system. (Lucas, information officer at a public hospital, Pelancia, Costa del Sol)
Failure to meet the criteria for public help
In many cases, the evaluation of resources ends with an unfavorable decision for the retirement migrant: she/he does not meet the criteria to receive free public care services, either because she/he has not been registered as resident for long enough (or is not registered at all), or because her/his old-age pension is above the income threshold to receive public help.
However, being unable to access public services does not imply that these individuals are not in need of care. The few well-advertised care-service companies tailored to the needs of retirement migrants (language, social norms, etc) are quite expensive. The low hourly wages of care workers in the informal market make this a desirable option for those with only average pensions, but there are no guarantees. Social workers and caretakers told us about (infrequent) cases in which retirement migrants were mistreated, robbed or manipulated by private caretakers.
A common solution is to make a list of potential caretakers (with information about the languages they speak) to offer to IRMs who cannot access public care services or pay a private company. The effort devoted to this strategy varies among social workers. Some include in the list people whom they have met at least once; others gather business cards of caretakers and simply pass them on to IRMs. However, some social workers only recommend caretakers whom they trust completely, meeting with both parties (caretaker and retirement migrant) outside of the office in order to make introductions.
Then, I have people who. . . who have this type of formal education, and. . . they approach me. . . I have a list of them, they have legal permits and so on [. . .] It's like being a bridge, isn't it? My work is more like being an intermediary, isn't it? In a completely informal way, because there is no contract for this or anything. (Luis Ángel, social worker, Sebastén, Isla Bonita)
An alternative strategy is to contact an association for retirement migrants, an international church, or an IRM-led charity that can provide some assistance. This help can come in different forms depending on the circumstances: organising a wheelchair or a cane, or perhaps relieving a depressive state by including the pensioner in the activities of a voluntary association. The role played by IRM charities and organisations in providing a vibrant social life for their members has already been studied in detail (Haas, Reference Haas2013; Blaakilde and Nilsson, Reference Blaakilde, Nilsson, Blaakilde and Nilsson2013). During our fieldwork, we found that such groups were used as a key care resource for social workers dealing with retirement migrants.
Providing care for retirement migrants
The final step of the process is to assign a caregiver with specific schedules and tasks. Do the staff of the Spanish social services speak a variety of different languages and understand the social norms governing care issues in the native countries of IRMs? Not really. Is this a problem? Again, not really, at least from the point of view of the social workers supervising care and of the caregivers who assist elderly northern Europeans in Spain.
From the perspective of social workers, the major drawback once the caregiver is assigned concerns the meagre services that they can offer. Because the system is based on familistic assumptions, Spanish eldercare services rely on the presence of family members who can take part in the necessary care tasks; consequently, these services are intended to provide extra assistance rather than full-time care. When neither family nor friends can be included in the care strategy, public programmes are clearly insufficient.
What we manage, for example, with this German man, is to help him two hours per day from Monday to Friday. Very well, but what about the rest of the time? It's a patch that, if he had a support network [i.e., family care], with them and us together, he could have a decent quality of life. But right now, this man is costing the public home-care service close to 300 euros per month. And what for? For him to live poorly. (Carlota, social worker, Santa Brígida, Isla del Sol)
The caregivers employed to provide public in-home services are accustomed to working for people with limited cognitive abilities, and so they do not view the absence of verbal communication as particularly worrisome. They have clearly established tasks and schedules, determined by the social worker, that are performed as part of a routine, and speaking is not necessary. They would like more communication to be possible, but they stress the importance of being kind and affectionate. From their point of view, a smile is more important than being able to speak in the language of the client.
In terms of a more general evaluation of the phenomenon, the opinions of social workers seem to depend on the share of retirement migrants among the claimants in their jurisdiction. Retirement migration is viewed as unproblematic for Spanish social services in municipalities in which the need to arrange public help for IRMs arises infrequently. But in the region of Santa Brígida (Isla del Sol), where more than 20 per cent of applications come from retirement migrants, social workers are extremely worried about the impact that this type of migration is having on their work. As one social worker explained, ‘Every year we have more and more. This year it's overflowing. Every week you can have a new case.’
Social workers in the various villages in the Santa Brígida area feel abandoned by the Spanish authorities, and they wonder to what extent anyone not directly involved in the local social services knows about the situation. They are unprepared to provide adequate care for this group of claimants, with no language competences and strained budgets that are insufficient to implement the adaptations required to properly attend to the needs of IRMs. The impossibility of providing adequate help – especially when the retirement migrant opposes their intervention – has worried some of them to the point of asking the professional board of social workers for legal advice.
Conclusions
Although we know that substantial numbers of retirement migrants return to their native countries when they begin to lose autonomy, many others remain in Spain well after dependency sets in. Some are able to devise effective strategies to obtain care services by turning to personal social networks, voluntary associations, or the private market. Others choose resilience as their main strategy, simply going about their lives until someone they know becomes worried enough to call the social services for help. One of the major findings of our research is that public social services are used only as a last resort for those in desperate situations of need and that, even in these extreme cases, they fail to provide adequate living standards for recipients.
The European legal framework that establishes full access to the social protection system for European citizens living outside of their home country does not work effectively in the case of retirement migration, for two main reasons. First, the in-group life of retirement migrants limits their communication abilities in Spanish, leading to misinformation concerning the range, access criteria, and financial situation of public care services. The reluctance of IRMs to approach the social services, which is interpreted by social workers as a desire for independence, may also reflect fears or suspicions about the ‘incomprehensible’ institutions of a foreign country. Second, Spanish social services are based on familistic principles and are therefore designed to provide extra help for family caregivers. When no family exists, as in the case of many IRMs, the efforts of social workers do not result in an adequate standard of living for the person in need.
In addition to the two problems described above, three trends affecting social services across Europe are crucial for an understanding of the shortcomings of European social rights in the case under study. First, the variability of social services across municipalities, a common feature of European welfare states (Jensen, Reference Jensen and Lolle2013), makes it almost impossible to gather and disseminate general information on rules and benefits. Second, potential users of the social services may fear stigmatization for claiming benefits (Baumberg, Reference Baumberg2016) and wait too long to apply. In the case of elderly people living abroad, a delay of a few years may worsen their health to the point of inability to seek help. Third, the economic crisis and its accompanying budget cuts have impeded the implementation of policy reforms to improve social services or to adapt them to new realities.
Our results can serve to encourage a more general reflection about the institutional changes required to make the right to receive public care in old age truly transnational. The particular nature of care services and the frailty of the potential recipients indicate that legal access must be complemented by reforms at the policy level in both sending and receiving countries. Otherwise, the ‘transnational right to social protection’ will mean, at least for IRMs, no right to public care services at all.
Acknowledgements
This article is based on a project funded by the Swedish Research Council (Dnr 421-2012-675) and the Swedish Research Council for Health, Working Life and Welfare (Dnr 2012-0223). I am indebted to Virginia Páez and Gunilla Rapp for transcriptions and assistance, and to Claire Bacher for proofreading services.
