You probably think being a citizen is just about that little blue or red book in your drawer. It isn't. Not really. Most people equate the definition of citizen with where they pay taxes or which line they stand in at the airport. But if you look at the legal history and the actual practice of modern life, it's a lot messier.
A citizen is, at its simplest, a person who is recognized as a legal member of a sovereign state or nation. You belong. The state owes you protection; you owe the state allegiance. It’s a two-way street that people often forget is paved with specific legal obligations.
Think about the difference between a "national" and a "citizen." In the United States, for instance, people born in American Samoa are U.S. nationals. They have the protection of the government, but they can't vote in federal elections. That tiny distinction changes everything about their lived experience. It's proof that the definition of citizen is tiered, complex, and sometimes, honestly, a bit unfair.
How the Definition of Citizen Actually Works in the Real World
We talk about citizenship like it’s this permanent, unshakeable thing. It’s not. It’s a legal status that can be acquired through jus soli (right of the soil) or jus sanguinis (right of blood).
If you’re born in the U.S. or Canada, you’re a citizen because you were physically there. That’s jus soli. But in countries like Italy or Greece, your ancestry matters way more than where your mother was when she went into labor. You could be born in Rome, live there for twenty years, and still not be a citizen if your parents are foreigners. It’s wild when you think about it. The definition of citizen in these places is tied to your DNA, not your GPS coordinates.
Then you have naturalization. This is the "manual" way to get in. You live there, you pay your dues, you pass a test that—let’s be real—most natural-born citizens would probably fail.
- In the U.K., you have to prove you have "good character."
- In some Gulf states, it is almost impossible for an expat to ever become a citizen, no matter how long they stay.
- In the U.S., you swear an oath to "renounce and abjure all allegiance and fidelity" to any foreign prince or state.
The Rights We Take for Granted
What does this status actually buy you? Rights.
The big ones are obvious: the right to vote, the right to hold public office, and the right to work without needing a visa. But there are smaller, quieter rights too. If you get into trouble in a foreign country, your embassy is supposed to help you. That’s a perk of the definition of citizen that nobody cares about until they’re stuck in a jail cell in a place where they don’t speak the language.
But rights are only half the story.
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The Obligations Nobody Likes to Talk About
If you want the perks, you have to pay the price. In the U.S., that means potentially being called for jury duty. It’s the thing everyone tries to get out of, but it’s literally the backbone of the legal system.
In countries like South Korea, Israel, or Switzerland, the definition of citizen includes mandatory military service. You don't get a choice. You give the state a year or two of your life, and in exchange, you get to keep that passport.
And then there are taxes. Most countries only tax you if you live there. The U.S. is one of the very few (alongside Eritrea) that taxes based on citizenship regardless of where you live in the world. If you’re a American citizen living in Tokyo, the IRS still wants a piece of your income. Suddenly, that "membership" feels a lot more like a subscription service you can't cancel.
Why Ancient History Still Matters Today
To understand why we're so obsessed with this, you have to look at the Greeks. In Athens, being a citizen was a full-time job. It wasn't something you just were; it was something you did.
If you didn't participate in the assembly, you were called an idiōtēs—where we get the word "idiot." It literally meant a private person who didn't care about the community. Back then, the definition of citizen was tied to the polis. You were part of the city-state's soul.
Fast forward to the Roman Empire. Romans realized they could use citizenship as a tool for control. They gave it to conquered people to make them feel like they were part of the winning team. It worked. People stopped rebelling because they wanted the legal protections of a Roman citizen. "Civis Romanus sum" (I am a Roman citizen) was basically a "get out of jail free" card across the Mediterranean.
The Modern Crisis of Statelessness
We talk about the definition of citizen like everyone has one. They don't.
According to the UNHCR, there are millions of stateless people globally. These are people who aren't considered citizens by any country. Maybe their country dissolved (like the Soviet Union), or maybe they belong to an ethnic group that their government refuses to recognize (like the Rohingya in Myanmar).
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When you are stateless, you are legally invisible. You can't get a marriage license. You can't get a driver’s license. You can't open a bank account. You are a person without a state, which in our modern world, is like being a ghost. This highlights the grim reality that the definition of citizen is essentially the "right to have rights," as Hannah Arendt famously put it. Without that piece of paper, the law doesn't really know what to do with you.
Global Citizens and Digital Nomads
Is the concept of citizenship dying? Sort of.
We’re seeing the rise of "citizenship by investment." If you have $100,000 to spare, you can basically buy a passport from places like Dominica or Antigua and Barbuda. For the ultra-wealthy, the definition of citizen is just another asset in their portfolio. They want "visa-free travel" and "tax optimization."
Then there are digital nomads. They might be citizens of the UK, but they live in Bali, work for a company in Delaware, and spend their weekends in Singapore. They are "global citizens" in spirit, but legally, they are tethered to a home country they might not have visited in years. This creates a weird friction. If you don't live in the community, don't pay local taxes, and don't share the local culture, are you really a "citizen" in the way the Greeks intended? Or are you just a long-term tourist with a laptop?
What Most People Get Wrong About Dual Citizenship
People think dual citizenship is a loophole. It’s actually a logistical nightmare.
Yes, you get two passports. Yes, you can live in two different parts of the world. But you also have two sets of laws to follow. If your two countries go to war, which side do you pick? If both countries have mandatory military service, do you serve twice?
The definition of citizen becomes a conflict of interest. Many countries, like Japan or India, actually don't allow dual citizenship. You have to choose. It’s a legal "pick a side" moment that forces people to quantify their identity. Is my "home" where I was born, or where I live?
The Actionable Reality of Your Citizenship
Understanding your status isn't just for history buffs. It's practical. Most people never actually read the fine print of their citizenship until they need to renew a passport or move abroad.
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If you're looking to actually engage with your status, here is what you should do:
1. Check your "Consular Protection" status. If you travel, know what your country’s embassy can and cannot do for you. They won't pay your legal fees, but they can ensure you aren't being mistreated.
2. Audit your tax obligations. If you’re an expat, don't assume you’re off the hook. Especially if you're American. The definition of citizen includes being a taxpayer. Ignoring this can lead to massive fines or even losing your passport.
3. Update your records. If you have children abroad, register their birth at your embassy immediately. Many people assume citizenship is automatic. It’s often not. You have to claim it.
4. Vote in every election. It sounds cliché, but in many countries, if you don't use your right to vote, you're effectively a "subject" rather than a "citizen." One is a passive recipient of rules; the other is a participant in making them.
5. Explore ancestry. You might be a citizen of another country and not even know it. Countries like Ireland, Italy, and Poland have generous jus sanguinis laws. If your great-grandparent was a citizen, you might be eligible for a second passport, which can open up an entire continent of work and travel opportunities.
Citizenship is a weird blend of luck, law, and loyalty. It defines where you belong and who has your back when things go south. Whether you're a citizen by birth, by choice, or by blood, it's the most powerful legal tool you own. Use it.
Next Steps for You:
If you suspect you might have a claim to a second citizenship through your heritage, your first move is to gather your ancestors' birth and marriage certificates. Contact the nearest consulate of that country to ask about "Citizenship by Descent" (Jus Sanguinis) requirements. Often, the definition of citizen expands further back in your family tree than you think. Keep those documents in a fireproof safe—they are literally the keys to your global mobility.