Bixby, Patrick. License to travel: a cultural history of the passport. 248 pp., bibliogr. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2022. US$14.98 (paper)

Patrick Bixby's License to travel: a cultural history of the passport offers a compelling exploration of the passport's historical, political, and cultural significance. Moving beyond its function as a bureaucratic travel document, Bixby presents the passport as a powerful symbol of personal identity, mobility, and state control. Through a carefully structured historical narrative, the author traces the passport's evolution into an essential yet paradoxical instrument – one that both enables and restricts movement. At the heart of Bixby's argument is the notion that the passport is more than a neutral (apolitical) administrative tool; it is a deeply personally, culturally, and politically charged artefact. Referencing Salman Rushdie, he describes it as a ‘precious book’ that tells broader stories of modernity, nationalism, and globalization. The passport embodies a fundamental contradiction, functioning as both a gateway to freedom and a mechanism of exclusion. Bixby illustrates how passports shape individuals’ perceptions of belonging and displacement while reinforcing the power dynamics of nation-states. His analysis extends to the emotional and psychological weight passports carry, revealing how they can serve as both a source of security and a trigger for anxiety. Bixby organizes his study into three parts, each building upon the previous one to trace the passport's historical trajectory. In ‘Part One: Precursors to the passport’, Bixby examines the early history of travel documentation, from ancient safe-conduct passes to the more formal documents used during the Grand Tour. By exploring citizenship and movement in antiquity, Bixby situates the passport within a long-standing tradition of regulated mobility, showing how the control of movement predates modern nation-states. In ‘Part Two: The modern passport emerges’, the focus turns to the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, a period of global conflicts and the rise of nation-states that led to the standardization of passports. Bixby discusses how figures like James Joyce and Vladimir Lenin navigated their identities through their passports – for example, Lenin wore a disguise to match a fraudulent passport photograph (there is an picture online of Lenin wearing a wig!) – emphasizing how the document came to symbolize national belonging and the complexities of individual identity in a rapidly changing world. In ‘Part Three: The contemporary passport’, Bixby explores the role of the passport in modern migration, displacement, and statelessness. Bixby delves into the inequalities within the passport system, particularly the division between ‘good’ and ‘bad’ passports, and discusses the emergence of ‘fantasy passports’ issued by indigenous nations as a form of resistance to state control. By structuring his argument chronologically, Bixby demonstrates effectively how the passport has evolved from a rudimentary identification tool into a sophisticated mechanism of geopolitical control and personal identity formation. This structure allows him to trace the passport's changing role in both the regulation of movement and the shaping of national and individual identities. Building on ideas from thinkers like Edward Said (exile and identity), Hannah Arendt (statelessness), and Giorgio Agamben (biopolitics), he emphasizes that passports shape personal experiences and cultural narratives, moving beyond purely political histories. Bixby illustrates how passports both reflect and reinforce global inequalities, highlighting the privileges afforded to holders of ‘good’ passports – typically from Western nations – while exposing the severe restrictions imposed on those with ‘bad’ passports. The book might have benefitted from a deeper engagement with contemporary issues surrounding restrictive passports, particularly in the context of refugee crises and stateless individuals. Indeed, one particularly striking omission is the Palestinian passport, which, given the book's emphasis on the politics of mobility and exclusion, feels like a missed opportunity for further insight. That said, Bixby's discussion of statelessness and resistance, including the use of ‘fantasy passports’ issued by indigenous nations, adds a compelling dimension to his analysis. By centring historical figures and their lived experiences with passports, Bixby brings a human element to what is often perceived as a sterile bureaucratic tool. This approach makes the book engaging and accessible to both scholars and general readers interested in travel, identity, and state power. License to travel is a well-researched and thought-provoking book that successfully bridges historical inquiry with contemporary relevance. While the book is particularly relevant to scholars in history, sociology, political science, and migration studies, its interdisciplinary scope also makes it appealing to those in literary studies, cultural history, and globalization studies. University students and academics researching state power, identity formation, and mobility will find it invaluable, as will policymakers and legal scholars concerned with border control and migration policies, who may benefit from Bixby's historical perspective on contemporary passport regimes. Bixby's engaging prose and interdisciplinary approach make it a valuable addition to studies of travel, migration, and identity. Scholars, students, and general readers alike will find this book insightful.