How to Get the Italian Nationality: Navigating the Path to Becoming Italian

Picture yourself standing in a small comune office somewhere in Tuscany, clutching a folder thick with documents, while an Italian bureaucrat peers at you over wire-rimmed glasses. This scene plays out thousands of times each year as people from around the world attempt to claim what many consider one of Europe's most coveted citizenships. Italian nationality isn't just a passport—it's an entry ticket to la dolce vita, EU freedom of movement, and a connection to centuries of art, culture, and really exceptional pasta.

The journey to Italian citizenship resembles navigating an ancient Roman road: there are multiple paths, some more direct than others, and occasionally you'll encounter unexpected detours that make you question why you started this journey in the first place. But here's what most people don't realize until they're knee-deep in the process: Italy's citizenship laws are surprisingly generous compared to many European countries, rooted in the principle of jure sanguinis—right of blood—that can stretch back generations.

The Blood Connection: Jure Sanguinis

Let me tell you something that might blow your mind: if your great-great-grandfather left Italy in 1890 and never formally renounced his citizenship, you might already be Italian. You just don't know it yet. This isn't some loophole or recent development—it's been baked into Italian law since the country's unification.

The principle works like this: Italian citizenship passes through bloodlines like a genetic trait, flowing from parent to child regardless of where that child is born. The catch? It traditionally passed only through the male line until 1948, when Italy's constitution declared men and women equal. This created what citizenship lawyers call the "1948 rule"—if your Italian ancestor was a woman who gave birth before 1948, you'll need to petition the courts in Rome. It's more complicated, sure, but not impossible. I've seen people successfully claim citizenship through female ancestors from the 1920s.

Here's where it gets interesting. Unlike many countries that limit citizenship by descent to one or two generations, Italy has no generational limit. Your ancestor could have left during the mass emigrations of the 1880s, and as long as they never naturalized elsewhere before their child was born, that citizenship kept flowing through the generations like an underground river.

The documentation requirements can feel overwhelming. You'll need birth certificates, marriage certificates, death certificates—not just yours, but for every person in the chain connecting you to your Italian ancestor. These documents need to be official copies, translated into Italian by a certified translator, and adorned with apostilles (those fancy authentication stamps that prove documents are legitimate internationally).

Marriage: The Partnership Path

Marrying an Italian citizen opens another door, though it's not the instant citizenship fairy tale some imagine. The rules have tightened considerably over the years—gone are the days when saying "I do" meant immediate citizenship.

Today, if you're married to an Italian citizen and living in Italy, you can apply after two years of marriage. Living abroad? That timeline doubles to three years. Have children together? The waiting period gets cut in half. It's almost like Italy's saying, "Okay, if you're raising little Italians, we'll speed things up a bit."

But wait—there's a language requirement now. Since 2018, you need to prove B1 level Italian proficiency. That's intermediate level, enough to handle everyday situations, complain about the weather, and argue about whether carbonara should ever include cream (it shouldn't, by the way). The test isn't just a formality; they genuinely want to ensure you can participate in Italian society.

The application process itself requires patience that would test a saint. You'll submit your application online through the Ministry of Interior's portal, pay the €250 fee, and then... you wait. Current processing times hover around two to four years, during which your application sits in a queue that moves with all the urgency of a August afternoon in Rome.

Residency: The Long Game

For those without Italian blood or an Italian spouse, there's the residency route—the slow boat to citizenship, if you will. After ten years of legal residence in Italy, you can apply for naturalization. That's a decade of dealing with the questura (police headquarters), renewing permits, and proving you've been a model resident.

The ten-year requirement drops to five for refugees and stateless persons, and to four for EU citizens. It's three years for descendants of Italian citizens by birth (up to the second degree) and for those born in Italy to foreign parents.

During these years, you need to maintain continuous legal residence. A few months abroad for work? Usually fine. Disappearing for a year? That might reset your clock. You'll also need to demonstrate integration into Italian society, stable income, a clean criminal record, and—yes—that B1 language certificate again.

What they don't tell you in the official guides is how those ten years change you. You start gesturing with your hands when you talk. You develop strong opinions about coffee (cappuccino after 11 AM becomes unthinkable). You find yourself genuinely upset when someone suggests putting pineapple on pizza. By the time you're eligible for citizenship, you've already become culturally Italian in ways that no test can measure.

Born in Italy: Not What You'd Think

Here's something that surprises many people: being born in Italy doesn't automatically make you Italian. Italy follows jure sanguinis, not jus soli (right of soil) like the United States. A child born in Italy to foreign parents remains a foreign citizen, inheriting their parents' nationality.

However, there's a special provision for these Italian-born children. If they've resided continuously in Italy until age 18, they have a one-year window—between their 18th and 19th birthdays—to declare their intention to become Italian citizens. Miss that window? You're back to the standard naturalization route.

This creates peculiar situations. I've met people who speak perfect Italian with Roman accents, went to Italian schools, know every word to the national anthem, but aren't technically Italian because their parents came from elsewhere. They're culturally more Italian than many citizenship-by-descent applicants who don't speak a word of the language, yet the law treats them as foreigners until they jump through the proper hoops.

The Bureaucratic Labyrinth

Let's talk about what nobody wants to discuss: the Italian bureaucracy. If Kafka and Dante collaborated on a modern circle of hell, it would probably look like an Italian municipal office on a Monday morning. Every comune (municipality) interprets the rules slightly differently. What flies in Milan might get rejected in Naples. Documents that one office deems perfectly acceptable might be scrutinized with archaeological precision at another.

The key to survival? Patience, persistence, and perhaps a touch of fatalism. Bring more documents than requested. Make copies of everything. Get used to hearing "torna domani" (come back tomorrow). Learn to appreciate the two-hour lunch breaks that close all government offices just when working people might be able to visit them.

Some practical wisdom I've gathered: Tuesday through Thursday mornings tend to be the best times to visit government offices. Avoid Mondays (everyone's cranky) and Fridays (everyone's mentally already at the beach). Dress nicely—Italians notice these things. Bring a book; you'll be waiting. And for the love of all that's holy, don't lose your temper. Italian bureaucrats have perfected the art of passive resistance against difficult customers.

The Hidden Costs

Beyond the official fees, pursuing Italian citizenship involves costs that nobody mentions upfront. Document procurement from your home country, official translations, apostilles, potential trips to Italy—it adds up quickly. If you're going the jure sanguinis route and need documents from multiple countries, you might spend thousands before even submitting your application.

Then there's the time investment. Hours spent researching, emailing, calling, waiting in lines. If your case is complicated—say, involving pre-unification states or lost documents—you might need to hire a citizenship attorney or service. These professionals know the system's quirks and can navigate obstacles that would stop mere mortals, but they don't work for free.

Why Bother?

After painting this picture of bureaucratic obstacles and lengthy waits, you might wonder why anyone bothers. Here's the thing: Italian citizenship offers something beyond practical benefits. Yes, you get EU freedom of movement, access to excellent healthcare, and affordable university education. But you also get membership in a culture that's influenced the world for millennia.

There's something profound about standing in a Roman piazza and thinking, "This is mine now, too." It's the right to complain about Italian politics with the authority of a citizen, not just a tourist. It's understanding that when Italians argue passionately about trivial things, it's not anger—it's engagement with life.

For many descendants of Italian emigrants, it's also about closing a circle. Their ancestors left Italy out of necessity, often in desperate circumstances. Reclaiming citizenship feels like healing a historical wound, honoring those who sacrificed so much.

The Reality Check

Not everyone who starts this journey finishes it. Some discover their lineage doesn't qualify. Others balk at the complexity or cost. Many simply lose patience with the glacial pace of Italian bureaucracy. And that's okay. Italian citizenship isn't for everyone, and there's no shame in deciding the juice isn't worth the squeeze.

But for those who persist? Who gather every document, wait in every line, and navigate every bureaucratic twist? They join a select club of people who've earned their citizenship through sheer determination. And maybe that's the point. Maybe the difficulty is Italy's way of ensuring that those who become citizens really, truly want it.

Because in the end, becoming Italian isn't just about acquiring a passport. It's about embracing a way of life that values beauty over efficiency, relationships over punctuality, and the perfect espresso over pretty much everything else. It's about becoming part of a story that stretches back to ancient Rome and forward to whatever Italy becomes next.

So if you're considering this journey, go in with eyes wide open. Expect frustrations. Anticipate delays. Budget more time and money than seems reasonable. But also prepare for moments of unexpected joy—the helpful clerk who goes above and beyond, the moment your application finally gets approved, the first time you vote in Italian elections.

And when you finally hold that Italian passport in your hands? Well, that's when the real adventure begins. Because becoming Italian on paper is one thing. Becoming Italian in spirit? That's a lifelong project, and frankly, not a bad way to spend a life.

Authoritative Sources:

Ministero dell'Interno. "Cittadinanza." Ministero dell'Interno, www.interno.gov.it/it/temi/cittadinanza.

Consolato Generale d'Italia. "Italian Citizenship." Consolato Generale d'Italia, consnewyork.esteri.it/consolato_newyork/en/i_servizi/per_i_cittadini/cittadinanza.

Italian Civil Code. "Book I: Of Persons and the Family." Gazzetta Ufficiale della Repubblica Italiana, 1942.

Law No. 91 of February 5, 1992. "New Rules on Citizenship." Gazzetta Ufficiale della Repubblica Italiana, no. 38, February 15, 1992.

Circolare K.28.1 of April 8, 1991. Ministry of Interior Guidelines on Citizenship by Descent. Ministero dell'Interno.