The hearing held on June 9 before the Italian Constitutional Court revealed a particularly interesting aspect of the debate on Law No. 74/2025. It concerns not only the constitutionality of the Italian citizenship reform, but also the very concept of legitimate expectation that seems to emerge from both the arguments put forward by... State Attorney (State Attorney's Office) how much of some of the arguments used by herself Constitutional Court in ruling no. 63/2026.
According to the argument presented by the Italian state's defense during the hearing, those who remained in consulate queues for years could not now invoke the protection of legitimate expectations because they could have resorted to the judiciary before the legislative change. In other words, faced with administrative inefficiency, it would be up to the citizen to abandon the administrative route and immediately seek judicial protection.
This statement warrants reflection.
Ultimately, the consular queues were not created by the applicants. They were created by the State itself. Thousands of descendants followed exactly the procedure indicated by Italian law and public administration. They gathered documents, obtained certificates, had records apostilled, had sworn translations done, and waited for years for the opportunity to formally submit their applications. The delay was not due to a personal choice, but to a structural inability of the Administration to offer effective access to the procedure it had itself established.
The paradox is evident. The State creates the queue, manages the queue, maintains the queue for years, and then argues that those who remained in the queue should have resorted to the Judiciary before the law changed.
But perhaps the most interesting aspect of this discussion lies elsewhere.
For decades, Italian jurisprudence has affirmed almost unanimously that citizenship by descent (jure sanguinis) constitutes an original right. It has stated that judicial recognition is merely declaratory in nature. It has repeatedly reaffirmed that the action aimed at recognizing this status is imprescriptible and can be brought at any time. In short, the legal system itself has taught descendants of Italians scattered around the world that time is not the enemy of the law.
The citizen could act today, tomorrow, or even ten years from now. The right would continue to exist because, according to Italian jurisprudence itself, recognition does not create citizenship; it only declares a legal status that already existed from birth.
However, the current discussion seems to introduce a new figure into Italian citizenship law: the fortune-telling citizen.
It is no longer enough to hold a right considered imprescriptible. It is necessary to foresee when the legislator may decide to change it.
It is no longer enough to rely on existing legislation. It is necessary to follow draft laws, parliamentary proposals, ministerial interviews, and political debates.
It is no longer enough to simply follow the administrative procedure indicated by the State itself. It is necessary to distrust it.
It is no longer enough to wait for the Administration to act. It is necessary to take legal action against it before it changes the rules of the game itself.
The curious aspect is that this logic finds an echo in some of the arguments used by the Constitutional Court in ruling no. 63/2026. When analyzing the issue of legitimate expectations, the Court attributed relevance to the fact that, over the years, the legislator had signaled an intention to modify the rules governing citizenship. Parliamentary debates, legislative initiatives, and reform proposals were mentioned that indicated that the stability of the legal regime could not be considered absolute.
This is precisely where a fundamental question arises.
In a state governed by the rule of law, do citizens organize their lives based on existing laws or on laws that may come into existence?
Bills can be introduced and then shelved. Proposals can be announced and then abandoned. Parliamentary debates can last for years without producing any normative effect. The very dynamics of democracy presuppose that the vast majority of legislative ideas will never become law.
If the mere existence of reform proposals begins to weaken citizens' legitimate trust in existing legislation, an inevitable question arises: at what point does a law cease to be trustworthy?
When does the first proposed amendment emerge?
When does a member of parliament grant an interview?
When does a minister announce a political intention?
Or only when the new law actually comes into effect?
The logical consequence of this construction is worrying. The more the possibility of modifying a law is discussed, the less the citizen could trust it. The more frequent the proposals for change, the less protection of legitimate trust would be. Taken to its ultimate consequences, this reasoning produces an effect opposite to that expected: the current law ceases to be the main parameter guiding the conduct of citizens and is replaced by expectations about future political decisions.
In the case of Italian citizenship, the situation takes on even more peculiar contours. For decades, the State indicated that the ordinary path to recognition of citizenship was the consular procedure. Thousands of people trusted this guidance. When the consulates proved unable to absorb the demand, many remained stuck in queues that lasted for years. Subsequently, the Law No. 74 / 2025 It profoundly altered the legal framework without providing for a transitional arrangement capable of adequately protecting those who had already begun their administrative process and were still waiting for an opportunity to file their requests.
And now it is argued that these same people could not invoke legitimate expectation because they should have foreseen the change in the law or because they should have resorted to the Judiciary before it occurred.
The impression one gets is unavoidable. Trust has ceased to be a value to be protected and has come to be treated as a form of recklessness.
The citizen who believed in the existing legislation, who followed the procedure indicated by the State itself, and who awaited the Administration's action is presented as someone who took a risk.
Those who suspected the state procedure and immediately sought recourse in the Judiciary appear, in retrospect, to have made the right choice.
Perhaps that is precisely the true paradox revealed by the current discussion.
Legitimate trust was created to protect those who believe in the rules established by the State. If it fails to protect precisely these people, there is a risk of transforming trust not into a legal principle, but into a strategic error.
Because, in the end, the question remains unanswered: if neither the existing law, nor the procedure created by the State itself, nor the consolidated jurisprudence on the imprescriptibility of the right were sufficient to justify the citizens' trust, then in what exactly should they trust?
Perhaps there has never been a more fitting expression to describe this situation than the one that titles this editorial:
Trust punished.
