Digital resources in the Social Sciences and Humanities OpenEdition Our platforms OpenEdition Books OpenEdition Journals Hypotheses Calenda Libraries OpenEdition Freemium Follow us

The Misconception of Climate Refugees: Scaremongering or reality?

Berivan Ekinci, BA

“There could be 1.2 billion climate refugees by 2050” (McAllister 2024), “Oxfam: 216 million climate migrants by 2050” (InfoMigrants 2023), “Global warming turns millions into climate migrants” (Yeter 2023). By now we all know about climate change. We know that the sea levels are rising, we know, that the global temperature is increasing, the world is facing more extreme weather and species become extinct. But what happens when the habitat of some populations changes, in some cases becoming uninhabitable? Where do these people go? Will there be mass movements from the Global South to the Global North and will there really be hundreds of millions of “climate refugees”?

First of all, I argue that people affected by climate change-induced displacement should not be described with the term “climate refugees.” Besides, that the United Nations (UN) strongly rejects the term. It  is also not recognized by international law because the term simply doesn’t fully apply. Yes, the displacement of many humans might be triggered by climate change but solely among other circumstances. Secondly, “climate refugees” are not included in the Geneva Refugee Convention. Most climate-induced displacement takes place within national borders; according to the rules of the Refugee Convention, only people who are fleeing because of their race, religion, nationality, membership of a particular social group or political opinion and who must cross national borders because they cannot find protection in their home country receive protection. In this context, the question naturally arises as to whether, in view of the predictions, it would not make sense to include people who must leave their homes due to climate change in the Convention. However, such a change arguably risks weakening the Convention. In view of the resentment that is already spreading in many societies towards refugees, weakening this law would be very problematic.

There are some common flawed beliefs concerning climate-induced displacement that need to be addressed. As already stated, people that are displaced because of climate change are not considered refugees because, conventionally, they usually don’t cross borders. In this context, one of the most common myths is that a big number of people will cross borders and migrate from the Global South to the Global North. But current evidence shows that the majority of the population that is displaced by natural phenomena move within their own country. In 2022, nearly 33 million people had to flee from their homes due to climate disasters. Numbers show, that about 70 percent of them moved to neighboring countries (Siegfried 2023).

Additionally, I argue that migration is simply not available to everyone. There are many people who do not have the financial means to migrate. Although they are exposed to climate impacts, they do not have the opportunity to settle elsewhere due to a lack of wealth or other resources. This is particularly the case in the Global South. In this context we can speak of “Trapped populations”. The UN uses the term in order to refer to those “who do not migrate, yet are situated in areas under threat, […] at risk of becoming ‘trapped’ or having to stay behind, where they will be more vulnerable to environmental shocks and impoverishment. The notion of trapped populations applies in particular to poorer households who may not have the resources to move and whose livelihoods are affected” (IOM 2024).

Another myth is that climate induced migration always happens as a direct answer to extreme weather situations and catastrophes. Indeed, some people flee from effects of extreme weather, but it is not to forget what climate change causes to people’s homes in the long run. It is too easy to attribute the cause of displacement to climate change due to extreme weather conditions. The situation becomes more complex when the effects are gradual. A drought would initially be classified as extreme weather, but if it leads to soil degradation, it can also have existential effects on the economic opportunities of local people. The UN calls climate change a “treat multiplier” because it exacerbates other factors and their impacts, which, in turn, can contribute to displacement. These include conflicts due to dwindling resources such as water, fish or even land. One example is plagues: more precisely, locust plagues. Alexandre Latchininsky from the UN Food and Agriculture Organization (FAO) claims that there are increasing signs that these will multiply in the future (Seynsche 2021). In 2020, periods of extreme heat combined with extreme rainfall provided perfect breeding and living conditions for locusts. These then migrated in large swarms across West Africa, destroying entire harvests and seriously jeopardizing food security in the region (UNEP 2020). In simple terms, the reason for migration in this case would be food insecurity caused by climate change. One of many phenomena that will multiply in the future. The UN sees this understanding of climate change as key to future action on climate-induced migration (Siegfried 2023).

Finally, I would like to focus on the numbers that can be read in many headlines. At first glance, it quickly becomes clear that scientists do not agree on this. The numbers range from 50 million displaced to one billion. But making these predictions just isn’t that simple. As already explained, it is very difficult to attribute displacement solely to climate change because the connections with other reasons migration are simply too interconnected. On the other hand, this number depends on different factors: (e.g. temperature rise, adaptability of different populations) that have not yet been determined; thus, a prediction cannot really be made reliably.

In conclusion, I suggest that it is important to emphasize on how serious of a problem climate-induced displacement will be in the future. In fact, it already is for people that live in an environment vulnerable to climate change. It appears to me that the topic still brings much confusion to the broad society, starting with the use of an adequate term. In order to contextualize and arrange all the important factors of the topic properly, the field is in need of more comprehensive research. Only if  a common ground in research can be found, the media and therefore society will be able to understand the issue. In simple words, climate-induced displacement is becoming a more and more central problem in our globalized world and should not be underestimated. The debate around the topic has been ongoing for a while but it remains diffuse. One thing though is sure, anyone who calls people “climate refugees” has, in my opinion, not only not understood the problem nor put in the work to try to understand the issue.

Bibliography:

InfoMigrants. 2023. “Oxfam: 216 Million Climate Migrants by 2050.” InfoMigrants. https://www.infomigrants.net/en/post/51399/oxfam-216-million-climate-migrants-by-2050 (June 1, 2024).

IOM. 2024. “Environmental Migration | IOM, UN Migration | Environmental Migration Portal.” https://environmentalmigration.iom.int/environmental-migration (June 2, 2024).

McAllister, Sean. 2024. “There Could Be 1.2 Billion Climate Refugees by 2050. Here’s What You Need to Know.” zurich.com. https://www.zurich.com/en/media/magazine/2022/there-could-be-1-2-billion-climate-refugees-by-2050-here-s-what-you-need-to-know (June 1, 2024).

Seynsche, Monika. 2021. “Heuschreckenplagen und Klimawandel – ‘Wir erwarten in der Zukunft mehr Heuschreckenplagen.’” Deutschlandfunk. https://www.deutschlandfunk.de/heuschreckenplagen-und-klimawandel-wir-erwarten-in-der-100.html (June 2, 2024).

Siegfried, Kristy. 2023. “Climate Change and Displacement: The Myths and the Facts.” UNHCR. https://www.unhcr.org/news/stories/climate-change-and-displacement-myths-and-facts (June 1, 2024).

UNEP. 2020. “Locust Swarms and Climate Change.” UNEP. http://www.unep.org/news-and-stories/story/locust-swarms-and-climate-change (June 2, 2024).

Yeter, Ada Seko. 2023. “Global Warming Turns Millions into Climate Migrants.” Anadolu Ajansı. https://www.aa.com.tr/en/environment/global-warming-turns-millions-into-climate-migrants/3002795 (June 1, 2024).

(Great-)Grandchildren of War and Intergenerational Trauma: Some Personal Observations

Antonia Probstmeier, BA

The fate of ancestors, particularly stories of flight and expulsions, have made the object of my generation’s interest. This is a simple observation, but one that I came to through various conversations with peers and pedestrian experiences. It is possible that this interest is partly due to us reaching our early to mid-twenties, a stage where we develop a greater interest in and ability to think more critically about these topics. Additionally, the numerous current global crises driven by war may remind us of our grandparents’ or great-grandparents’ life stories. In some cases, the interest in our ancestors’ fates is also driven by the fact that we are now at a similar age to them, when they experienced these events. This may allow and motivate us to put ourselves in their shoes and relate to their experiences more deeply.

I often reflect on significant milestones and chapters of life: for instance, two years ago, I reached the age my grandmother was when she was expelled from present-day Czech Republic. This parallel definitely sparked an even greater interest in her story for me. If my memory serves me right, I believe I resemble her a great deal, especially in terms of sentimentality and nostalgia. My grandmother had a profound influence on my early years and childhood. Her memory continues to do so.

Unfortunately, I don’t know many details about her story and experiences in 1945, as I was too young to ask detailed questions at the time. However, I can imagine it couldn’t have been an easy journey to Germany, especially as a young woman. Even as a child, I could always sense the significance of this ever-present but rarely spoken topic. I recall murmurs and stories about her former home, and a porcelain statue in a glass case that was one of the few belongings she brought on her journey to Germany. I know of the city she left and the town square she arrived at. I grew up with relatives who, in fact, were not relatives at all, but simply came from the same area in present- day Czech Republic and later settled in the same area in Germany. I often think about the fact that she only traveled back once and afterward swore never to do so again. She indeed never did.

Like many others, I no longer have the opportunity to talk to my grandparents about their experiences, whether that is due to old age or passing. Generally, opportunities to speak with Zeitzeug:innen – eyewitnesses and those who experienced it themselves – of these historical events become increasingly rare. Subsequently, many people, including myself, are trying to answer these lingering uncertainties and questions by researching archives, consulting available forms of documentation, talking to family members etc. My own success on this has been limited. So far, I have only managed to find my grandmother’s personal information in an online archive once: it was records of her employment in a porcelain factory in her hometown, the one where the aforementioned porcelain statue originated.

Lately, I have sought out conversations about my grandmother’s journey more frequently within my family. Unfortunately, my mother also has limited knowledge about her experiences. It is possible that this lack of knowledge is due to unresolved trauma. In many families, the first post-war generation often found it understandably difficult to discuss the war and fleeing in depth with their parents. The trauma, shame, guilt, and sensitivity surrounding these topics created a chapter that was avoided and kept silent, often looming over family dynamics. This silence was not necessarily due to a lack of interest from their children, but because many parents were perhaps not ready or willing to talk about it (yet).

This total disregard and avoidance of such trauma, which I would argue was the case in many post-war families, can result in intergenerational trauma. The Americal Psychological Association (APA) defines this phenomenon as „the transmission of trauma or its legacy, in the form of a psychological consequence […] from the generation experiencing the trauma to subsequent generations. […]. The trauma reactions vary by generation but often include shame, increased anxiety and guilt, a heightened sense of vulnerability and helplessness, […] The role of parental communication about the event and the nature of family functioning appear to be particularly important in trauma transmission.“ (APA 2023)

Unable to learn more about my grandmother’s story from my mother, I am often drawn to books that explore and recount generational dynamics, experiences, stories and biographies similar to hers. Those books, often authored by second or third-generation descendants of affected families, typically explore their stories through generational themes. Terms like Kriegskinder, referring to the children who grew up during the Second World War, and Kriegsenkel, describing their descendants, are commonly used. These terms are not primarily based on birth years, more importantly, it depends on which category one fits within one’s family tree and which group one feels affiliated with. (Cf. Deutscher Bundestag 2017: 8, Ustorf 2008)

My peers and I don’t officially fit into the category of Kriegsenkel, even though we might be the grandchildren of people who experienced the war; instead, our parents belong to this category. Technically, we could be referred to as the Great-Grandchildren of War, a term that, as far as I know, is not (yet) commonly used. However, labeling ourselves this way can feel unnecessary, even uncomfortable, as the war was thankfully well before our time and and did not define our lives. Still, I believe our generation can play and has played a significant role, different to our parents’ role, in bringing light to this period in our ancestors’ lives within our families. From my own experiences, I have noticed that those who witnessed that time tend to open up more as they age, particularly with their grandchildren. This may be due to the passage of time, a certain distance, and the unique dynamics of the grandparent-grandchild relationship. It is often observed and believed that grandparents tend to interact with their grandchildren differently, striving to make up for any shortcomings or missed opportunities they experienced in raising their own children. Through these interactions, the parent generation can also learn new and different aspects of their parents’ lives, fostering a positive impact moving forward. So, perhaps the term has legitimacy for our generation and role.

In drafting this essay, I was encouraged to explore and share my personal relationship with the complex phenomenon of intergenerational trauma – I thought long and hard about this prompt. Upon reflection, I found myself fortunate to realize that I don’t believe I fit the criteria…Regardless, upon closer examination, I recognized subtle yet undeniable influences on the dynamics within my family, my parents’ upbringing, and subsequently the way I was raised, stemming from my grandparents’ experiences during and after the war. The way my mother was raised influenced and at times maybe even mirrored the way I was raised. The formative years I have spent with my grandmother were, of course, colored by her past. As far as I know, she did suffer from unprocessed trauma and depression, even in her final years. But still, I cannot detect myself in the APA definition. Therefore, while our family’s story might align with the criteria outlined by the APA, I find the term itself inadequate and too severe to describe this subtle influence. Intergenerational trauma, with its heavy connotations of inherited scars and impacts, feels overly stringent to describe the subtle nuances and imprints I could detect.

Admittedly, I also feel hesitant and defensive about claiming this term for myself. I am acutely aware of the fact that many families and communities have endured far greater hardships, and in relation, we are very fortunate. While I am deeply interested in my grandparents’ lives and wish I could ask them questions about it, I do not consider it a trauma. My grandmother’s expulsion and life story, while influential, does not impact my psyche or my daily life negatively. They have not altered my path or denied me opportunities.

Bibliography:

American Psychological Association. (2023). Dictionary of Psychology. https://dictionary.apa.org/ intergenerational-trauma

Deutscher Bundestag. (2017). Transgenerationale Traumatisierung. https://www.bundestag.de/resource/ blob/501186/5cab3d455ea7c85a1dfbd7ce458d499a/WD-1-040-16-pdf-data.pdf

Ustorf, A. E. (2008). Wir Kinder der Kriegskinder. Die Generation im Schatten des Zweiten Weltkriegs. Freiburg im Breisgau: Herder.

From Fear to Solidarity: Framing of Refugees in Austrian Media -2015 v. 2022

Anika Haider, BA

“Flüchtlinge kosten den Staat 2,7 Milliarden Euro” [“Refugees cost the state 2.7 billion Euros”] 1 is the title of a 2015 article of Austria’s most popular newspaper “Kronen Zeitung”. “Kein Ende der Flüchtlingswelle in Sicht.” [“No end in sight for wave of refugees.”] 2, is the start of another. A few months prior the newspaper, read by ca. 1.7 million Austrians daily 3, quoted a resident of the migration-friendly municipality Traiskirchen describing refugees as “dirty people”. 4 According to the Austrian Press Council, the “Kronen Zeitung” committed nineteen ethics violations that year through their reporting. For most of them the subject of the defaming language were refugees. 5

When thousands of Ukrainian refugees fled to Austria to escape Russia’s war of aggression in February 2022, the reporting of the “Krone” looked quite different. “Wien ist ‘bereit für Flüchtlinge’” [“Vienna is‘ready for refugees’”] 6 they quoted the Viennese mayor shortly after the invasion. Also ,the following articles paint a very different picture of the people seeking refuge in Austria in this context, than those who did the same nine years prior. “Über 78.000 Ukrainer fanden in Österreich Schutz” [“Over 78,000 Ukrainians found shelter in Austria”] 7 is the title of an article that emphasizes Austria’s role as a “protective” state and most of the displaced Ukrainians being women and children.

“Framing” is the process through which communication sources define and provide a particular understanding of an issue by emphasizing certain elements of it. They are interpretative packages that give meaning to an issue by suggesting how to make sense of relevant events and stimulate cultural morals and values. 8 This process is particularly prevalent, when looking at the reporting about flight and refugees – a notoriously polarizing and semantical issue.

This blog post looks at some framings, that have been applied by Austrian news outlets while reporting on these issues. It shows how much  framings can differ depending on who they are referring to. The width of narratives that different framings provide can also be noted within those referring to the group of “refugees” – as this blog post will show: particularly depending on the ethnicity of the framing’s subjects.

An example that illustrates the different ways in which refugee influxes have been framed is the comparison of news coverage by Austrian (tabloid) media referring to “refugees,” who fled to Austria from the Syrian Civil War (mainly people from Syria, Afghanistan, and Iraq) in 2015 and those who fled the Russian invasion of Ukraine in 2022. A comparison of articles that have been published in “Kronen Zeitung”, colloquially known as “Krone” is useful here. Even though the rhetoric to support framings used by tabloid newspapers like “Krone” is obviously particularly sensational, tendencies for similar narratives, as I will describe, can also be observed looking at the respective coverage of events by higher quality newspapers. Michaela Maurer’s work on reporting on refugees in Austrian print media (2019) supports my claims through a bigger analysis. 9

Maurer’s analysis of the coverage of the refugee influx of 2015 shows that the framing that “Krone” journalists preferred was the portrayal of refugees as “intruders” rather than “victims”. Moreover, this study showed, “Krone” frequently referred to refugees as “criminals” and described them as “financial burden”. This narrative also quantified refugees as “too many” and often called for deportation. 9

“Krone” (and other tabloid newspapers) often depicted refugees as threats to national security and public safety, with headlines focusing on criminal activities allegedly committed by them. The newspaper used an emotional language that arguably promoted fear. An example of this would be an article from October 2015, with a headline asking the question, whether Angela Merkel would pull the “emergency break” on refugees. 10 Another aspect that is notable is a strong focus on the cultural differences and integration challenges of predominantly Muslim refugees. “Krone” writers emphasized incidents that illustrated cultural clashes, fostering a narrative of incompatibility and resistance to assimilation. This relates to Maria Öhler’s study„Wer hat Angst vorm’ Asylant“ [“Who is afraid of the asylum seeker?” – the title is an allusion to the racist Austrian children’s song “Wer hat Angst vorm’ schwarzen Mann”] (2016). 11 Öhler showed that 65% of a sampled group of articles used emotional language to report about refugee issues.

Another highly associative term, that found its way into mainstream semantics in 2015 is the “Flüchtlingswelle” [“Refugee wave”]. The word “wave” carries two associative levels: on one hand, a wave is something that builds up and swells. So, a refugee wave implies a large mass of people, arriving chaotically and repeatedly at the borders. Furthermore, a wave is a natural force capable of theoretically washing away entire cities. This sets clear definitions of problem and solution:foreign masses are pouring into our societies and threatening to sweep them away, so points of entry have to get closed and protected (with physical barriers). 12 By linguistically turning refugees into a natural disaster, “refugee wave” is another example of dehumanising language used for displaced people.

When Putin-lead Russia started its invasion of Ukraine in February 2022 thousands of displaced Ukranians led to another influx of refugees in Austria. This time they were met with more solidarity – by citizens, but also in media coverage. In contrast to the coverage of 2015 articles largely focused on promoting humanitarian sympathy, solidarity and support as well as the sense of political unity. This shows not only in Austrian mainstream newspapers, but also tabloids like “Kronen Zeitung” that published numerous stories highlighting the suffering of Ukrainian families, often accompanied by emotive imagery and personal stories that evoke sympathy and compassion from readers. Unlike the 2015 crisis, Ukrainian refugees were often portrayed as culturally similar to Austrians, with a shared European heritage. For instance, in a “Krone” article titled “Wollen Sie wieder zurück in die Ukraine?” [“Doyou want to go back to the Ukraine?”] 13 and published in February 2024, three Ukrainian refugees are interviewed on a very personal, emotional level. In the article, Ukranian refugees are referred to as “people looking for help” – things, that would not have been possible in 2015.

 This bias can, at least to some degree, be observed across many Western European newsrooms, where positive narratives constructed around Ukrainians are dominating, while negative stereotypes, associated with Middle Eastern refugees, reflect an Orientalist philosophy are omnipresent. 14 Acknowledging the power of media framing to influence public perception and policy responses, a serious effort by newsrooms to end biased narratives and be mindful of implicit and explicit biases is indispensable. To combat stereotypes and promote understanding, we need accurate, contextualized reporting and newsrooms prioritizing training on cultural and political nuances as well as diversity among their reporters.

  1. Kronen Zeitung. Flüchtlinge kosten den Staat 2,7 Milliarden Euro (2015) https://www.krone.at/486168
  2. Kronen Zeitung. Kaserne Fehring könnte Asyl-Massenquartier werden (2015) https://www.krone.at/453995
  3. OTS. MA 2022/23: Die Kronen Zeitung ist TÄGLICH für 1,7 Millionen Österreicher:innen DIE verlässliche Informationsquelle (2023) https://www.ots.at/presseaussendung/OTS_20231012_OTS0095/ma-202223-die-kronen- zeitung-ist-taeglich-fuer-17-millionen-oesterreicherinnen-die-verlaessliche-informationsquelle
  4. Kronen Zeitung. Anrainer: “Unvorstellbar, was sich hier abspielt!” (2015) https://www.krone.at/465386
  5. Österreichischer Presserat. Tätigkeitsbericht des Österreichischen Presserats für das Jahr 2015 (2015)
  6. Graf, Viktoria. Ukraine-Krise: Wien ist „bereit für Flüchtlinge“ (2022) https://www.krone.at/2636612
  7. Kronen Zeitung. Über 78.000 Ukrainer fanden in Österreich Schutz (2023) https://www.krone.at/3132581
  8. Vreese, Claes. News framing: Theory and typology (2005)
  9. Maurer, Michaela. Berichterstattung über Flüchtlinge in österreichischen Printmedien in den Jahren 1990/1993 und 2015/2018 (2019), p. 76-80
  10. Kronen Zeitung. Million Flüchtlinge: Zieht Merkel die Notbremse? (2015) https://www.krone.at/479768
  11. Öhler, Maria. Wer hat Angst vorm’ Asylant (2016), p. 77-85
  12. Biazza, Jakob. Wenn Menschen zur Naturkatastrophe werden (2018) https://www.sueddeutsche.de/kultur/framing- check-fluechtlingswelle-wenn-menschen-zur-naturkatastrophe-werden-1.4038753
  13. Kronen Zeitung. Wollen Sie wieder zurück in die Ukraine? (2024) https://www.krone.at/3263888
  14. Ibáñez Salas, Matías. The Refugee Crisis’ Double Standards: Media Framing and the Proliferation of Positive and Negative Narratives During the Ukrainian and Syrian Crises (2023), p. 4-5

Racism and Xenophobia at the Biennale di Venezia 2024: An Artistic Exploration

Alda Schneider, BA

The 60th International Art Exhibition Biennale di Venezia 2024, entitled ‘Foreigners Everywhere’, addresses the pressing issues of racism and xenophobia by exploring the complex interplay between artistic expression, colonialism and the experience of refugees. Curator Adriano Pedrosa highlights how the artworks on display reflect a world in which the crossing of national borders is both a challenge and an opportunity (“Biennale Venedig 2024.” Accessed 10 July 2024) inequalities across race, gender, sexuality, national and social class.

The exhibition focuses on artists whose personal experiences as foreigners, migrants, expatriates, exiles or refugees have influenced their works. These artists, who often move between the Global South and the Global North, deal with the effects of decolonisation and migration, and show the complex connections between the injustices of the past and those of the present. In doing this, the Biennale has offered profound insights into how colonialism relates to contemporary migratory movements. A central theme of the Biennale is the continuing impact of colonialism on the dynamics of the world. Exposing the persistent social and economic inequalities that result from colonial power structures, some artists explore the long shadows cast by colonialism.

Between the sixteenth and twentieth centuries, European colonial powers exploited many regions in Africa, Asia, as well as the Americas; in the process, they destroyed indigenous cultures. Artists at the Biennale reflect on this past and illustrate how colonial structures continue to affect social and economic inequalities. Their works address the disruption, pain, resilience, and resistance of the affected communities and place them in a historical context to current global issues. Additionally, they illustrate how living conditions in many postcolonial countries, characterized by poor governance, oppression and civil wars, trigger migration movements (Fonkem 3). Our understanding of the complex causes of today’s waves of migration is deepened through this artistic exploration (3).

Artistic criticism of white supremacy

One of the core themes of the Biennale is the critical examination of white supremacy, both in history and in the present. In this context, the artists denounce the colonial rule that perpetuates white supremacy, along with the fear and hatred towards migrants and refugees in the host countries. By means of their art, they demand equality and the deconstruction of colonial structures and propagate new, more inclusive perspectives. As part of the Biennale, artists involved emphasize the challenges and opportunities of migration in general. While they tackle social tensions and integration problems in the destination countries, they also recognize the new perspectives, skills and cultures that migrants bring. From their vantage point, such an artistic dialogue promotes better understanding and cooperation and enriches the host societies.

The sound of migration: Emeka Ogboh’s sound installation

As I toured the Biennale di Venezia 2024, I was struck by the powerful artworks that explore the themes of racism and xenophobia through the lens of colonialism and migration. In fact, the title of the exhibition, ‘Foreigners Everywhere’, particularly encapsulated the universal experience of displacement and the search for belonging. Featuring artists who have lived as foreigners, immigrants, expats, exiles, or refugees, it poignantly recalled the ongoing struggles of those crossing borders in search of a better life.

Emeka Ogboh’s sound installation particularly struck me. Born in Nigeria, Ogboh uses sound to convey the experience of migration in ways which go beyond the visual. Entitled ‘The Ambience of Displacement’, his installation immerses visitors in the ambient sounds of migrants’ journeys, including the hum of crowded boats, the murmur of multiple languages and the distant, rhythmic sounds of train tracks. At once haunting and enlightening, the listening experience provides a visual understanding of the dislocation and resilience of migrants.

Ogboh’s work is an invitation to empathize with the plight of migrants through a unique and powerful engagement of the senses. Evoking feelings that are often difficult to articulate, the soundscape of the installation captures the uncertainty and danger of migration. Ogboh creates an intimate connection with the audience through sound, transcending the limitations of visual art. Through such a sensory experience, our minds are confronted with the harsh reality of those who leave their homes in search of safety and opportunity, often in the most harrowing of circumstances.

Calling for action through art

This year’s Biennale focus on the lasting effects of colonialism has been a powerful reminder of how historical injustices continue to shape our world. The imposition of artificial borders, economic exploitation and cultural destruction by colonial powers has left deep wounds that are manifested in the migration crises of today. It powerfully illustrates how these legacies contribute to the political and economic instability that forces people to flee their homes. What’s more, the exhibition critically examined white supremacy and its role in perpetuating inequality. Artists courageously confronted fear and hatred of migrants and refugees, highlighting the need for a more inclusive global society. Visualising a world where diversity is celebrated and all people are treated with dignity and respect was not just about highlighting injustice.

Ultimately, the Biennale di Venezia 2024 is more than an art exhibition; it is a call to action. Through it, the  curators of the exhibition suggest that we must strive for a future where equality and inclusion are not just ideals, but realities, recognising the interconnectedness of colonial history and contemporary migration issues, empathising with the experiences of refugees. We are invited to imagine new possibilities and work towards a world where everyone can find a place to call home, no matter where they come from, through the lens of art.

N.B. More information on Emeka Ogboh’s work can be found at https://emekaogboh.art/

Bibliography:

Fonkem, Achankeng. “The Refugee and Migrant Crisis: Human Tragedies as an Extension of Colonialism.” Round Table (London), vol. 109, no. 1, 2020, pp. 52–70, https://doi.org/10.1080/00358533.2020.1717089.

“Biennale Venedig 2024.” Universes in Universe – Worlds of Art, universes.art/de/biennale- venedig/2024. Accessed 10 July 2024.

The Story of Greek Villages and Refugees in Serbia

Aleksandar Drazic, BA

I grew up and was born in Novi Sad, a city in northern Serbia and the capital of the autonomous province of Vojvodina. Vojvodina has always been a multiethnic environment with a rich history of migration. Various peoples and migrations have occurred in this area. Germans, Hungarians, Serbs, Slovaks, Rusyns, Ukrainians, and Roma all live together in one multiethnic environment. In my city, I have many friends with different surnames that are not of Serbian origin, such as Valo, Schmidt, Brusnai, Fesus, and so on. However, when I started high school, I sat next to a girl named Atina Grk, who came from the village of Maglić near Novi Sad. When asked about her distinctive Greek name and surname, she gracefully revealed that her grandfather had emigrated from Greece to the village of Maglić. I didn’t ask further, nor was I really interested at the time, but I truly didn’t even understand where the Greeks in the village of Maglić came from; I had never heard before that there was a Greek community in the small village of Maglić.

Years later, I came across the book “Children of the Greek Civil War: Refugees and the Politics of Memory” (2011) by authors Loring M. Danforth and Riki Van Boeschoten; this study explores a significant and controversial chapter in Greek history: the evacuation of thirty-eight thousand children from the northern mountainous regions of Greece during the height of the Greek Civil War in 1948. At that time, the Greek Communist Party evacuated half of these children to orphanages in Eastern Europe, while their opponents in the national government placed the rest in children’s homes throughout Greece. One of those boys who came to Maglić was also the grandfather of my classmate Atina Grk. It wasn’t until many years later that I learned about the Greek immigrants during the Civil War in Greece and their stay in the village near Novi Sad.

The Greek Civil War (1946-1949) left deep scars on Greek society, creating a wave of refugees who left their homeland in search of safety. Many of these refugees found refuge in what was then Yugoslavia, particularly in Vojvodina, a region known for its ethnic diversity and rich agricultural land (Danforth & Van Boeschoten, 2011; Roudometof, 2002).

According to Danforth and Boeschoten (2011), after the end of World War II and the beginning of the Greek Civil War, several thousand Greeks, mostly political refugees and their families, arrived in Vojvodina. These individuals were sympathizers or members of the Democratic Army of Greece (DSE), a communist resistance fighting against government forces supported by Western allies. The Yugoslav authorities organized the reception and accommodation of the Greek refugees. In Vojvodina, Greek villages were established in the areas of Bačka and Banat. In Bačka, places such as Kula, Vrbas, and Crvenka became homes to these refugees, while in Banat, they settled in places like Plandište and Belo Blato. These villages became temporary homes for the Greeks, who engaged in agriculture and tried to build new lives in a foreign land. Life in the Greek villages in Vojvodina was full of challenges but also solidarity. Greek refugees strived to maintain their culture, language, and customs while simultaneously adapting to their new environment (Ristovic, 1997). According to Klotz (2005), the Yugoslav authorities provided support in the form of housing, land for cultivation, and necessities, the Greeks at that time enjoyed a high degree of autonomy, comparable to other ethnic groups in Yugoslavia.

However, historical developments changed the position of Greeks in Vojvodina. According to Edudes (1972), the changes in the political landscape of Eastern Europe had a significant impact on Greek refugees in Yugoslavia. One of these events, as noted by Obadic (2017), occurred in 1948 when the split between Yugoslavia and the Soviet Union, known as Informbiro conflict, took place. This event, which distanced Tito’s policy from Stalin’s and made Yugoslavia a unique communist state, had profound consequences for the political situation in Yugoslavia and the fate of Greek refugees. The Greeks, who were seen as Stalinists, became a threat in Tito’s Yugoslavia. The Yugoslav authorities began to view them as a potential threat due to their political beliefs and ties to the Soviet bloc. Many of them returned to Greece, where they faced political reprisals, while others emigrated to countries like the Soviet Union, Romania, and Poland. Those who remained in Yugoslavia were often under strict surveillance by the authorities and faced discrimination and suspicion. (BBC Serbia, 2020).

The story of Greek migrants is an example of Cold War migration, where Greeks had to relocate twice. First, they fled Greece after the Greek Civil War, and then, following the Cominform resolution when Yugoslavia refused to join the Eastern Bloc, Greeks once again left Yugoslavia and moved to countries fully under Soviet control. This movement highlights how the Cold War had a significant impact on migration processes, influencing not only movement towards the Western Bloc but also towards the Eastern Bloc.

Learning about the Greek Civil War and the migration of refugees to places like Maglić, near Novi Sad, unveiled a complex history that shaped my community. This discovery was surprising, especially since these events were not widely covered in my education or discussed in my family. Hearing Atina’s family story and reading more about this history helped me understand the diverse heritage of Vojvodina and gave me a better grasp of the context of population settlements and migration processes.

Ultimately, I find it incredible how historical circumstances can profoundly affect human lives and destinies. Just a few decades ago, people had to migrate from one country to another due to political beliefs. What is even more astonishing, and unfortunately true, is that we are witnessing similar occurrences today.

Bibliography:

  1. Ristović, M. (1997). Eksperiment Buljkes: “grčka republika” u Jugoslaviji 1945-1949. Godišnjak za društvenu istoriju, IV(2-3), pp. 179-201.
  2. Danforth, L.M. & Van Boeschoten, R. (2011). Children of the Greek Civil War: Refugees and the Politics of Memory. Chicago and London: The University of Chicago Press.
  3. BBC. (2020). Tito, Yugoslavia, and Greece: ‘A State within a State’ near Novi Sad. Retrieved June 10, 2024, from https://www.bbc.com/serbian/lat/srbija-53540351.
  4. Eudes, D. (1972). The Kapetanis: Partisans and Civil War in Greece 1943-1949. London, pp. 288-290.
  5. Klotz, J., Berger, D. & Mandić, R. (2005). Das Papiergeld der Exil-Griechen im jugoslawischen Bulkes (Maglic). 1st ed. Klotz Papermoney Publications.
  6. Obadić, I. (2017). In pursuit of Stability: Yugoslavia and Western European Economic Integration, 1948–1970. Doctoral Thesis. European University Institute.

Destinations Taken by Spanish Republican Refugees during the Spanish Civil War

Arturo Lidó Campos, BA

The Spanish Civil War was a horrific event that took place between 1936 and 1939, following the uprising against the Republican government by Spanish military forces commanded by General Francisco Franco. This fascist coup d’état had the support of Italy with Mussolini and Germany with Hitler, while the Republican government had only the help of the Soviet Union and the international brigades (Graham, 2005). This led to three years of confrontation, slowing down the fascist seizure of control of the territory, but more noticeably damaging the rest of the civilian population. This inevitably led to the flight of many Spanish citizens who were republicans, or who simply found themselves in the middle of a war (Graham, 2005).

In this blog post I will briefly analyse the main factors that influenced Spanish refugees’ choice of one place or another. It is important to note that this text will not cover experiences of all Spanish refugees. However, the question I ask here is: what motivated Spanish exiles’ refuge trajectories (Table 1)?

DestinationNº of RefugeesPolitical CollaborationMain Population
France125.000-180.000NoAll kinds
Mexico15.000-20.000YesHigh status
Argentina10.000NoAll kinds
Soviet Union5.000YesChildren & communists
North of AfricaNoAll kinds
Table 1: Characterisation of Spanish refugee destinations.

Spanish exiles chose various countries of refuge. Among the main destinations the following stand out: France, Mexico, Argentina, USSR and North Africa. France was the main destination for most Spanish Republican exiles, as its geographical proximity allowed many refugees to cross the Pyrenees to escape Franco’s repression, even though France government didn’t collaborate with them (Mirón, 2019). The number of exiles in France at the end of the war was around 125,000 or 180,000 people (Mirón, 2019). In Mexico between 15,000 and 20,000 refugees were established. (Pla, 2001). This emigration has been classified as an immigration of high social status, with many intellectuals and artists. And was facilitated by the Mexican government of Lázaro Cárdenas (Pla, 2001). Around 10,000 exiles arrived in Argentina, but they were met with frontal opposition from the government. Even so, there were contacts between relatives and/or friends so that they could establish themselves there (Ortuño, 2012).There were many Spanish exiles who, ended up in North Africa (Tunisia, Algeria & Morocco), and in the USSR. In the case of North Africa, the experience was similar to the French one (Klein, 2016). The USSR, despite collaborating with the republican government, made a selective acceptance of refugees, accepting only children or adults close to communism (Vigil, 2002).

A brief overview of the experience of refuge and flight shows different variables in exiles’ decision-making.

  • Geography

It is obvious how geography plays the most relevant role of all in determining the fate of the refugees. This can be seen very clearly in the case of Spanish refugees as the vast majority of them, around 77%, chose simply to cross the border into France and settle there, even though conditions there were worse than in many other places (Deras & Bocanegra, 2022). In general terms, this process could mean that in most cases refugees simply escape from their country to the nearest place where they feel safer, and so, perhaps in most cases, the process of choice at the beginning is not so relevant (Crawley & Hagen-Zancker, 2019).

  • Political Ideology

Another very relevant factor is the political ideology of the government of the receiving country, as this can lead to more hostile or more humanitarian attitudes towards the refugee. This was evident for Spanish exiles, as the Mexican government of Lázaro Cárdenas close to the Spanish Republic stood out as the main precursor of aid to Spanish refugees. But France, for example, had a very unhelpful policy towards Spanish refugees, which caused many to seek refuge in third countries (Mirón, 2019).

  • Work of the Evacuation Forces

Historically, it’s become essential to establish dedicated refugee protection services to ensure safe arrival and adaptation. In the case of the Republican exiles, they were supported by the “Servicio de Emigración de los Refugiados Españoles” (SERE) and the “Junta de Auxilio de los Refugiados Españoles” (JARE), which coordinated almost all the evacuation processes to America (Olmos-Sánchez, 1991).

  • Cultural Proximity

It is also inevitable that factors as relevant as a common language, family, religion, etc., are relevant reasons for a refugee to choose to settle in one place or another, as they would also greatly facilitate the future adaptation. This was manifested in the choice of Hispanic-American countries by many Spanish exiles such as Mexico or Argentina, despite being much further away from Spain than many other places (Olmos-Sánchez, 1991).

  • Composition of the Refugee Population

The type of person seeking refuge is also an important consideration, since depending on the sex or age of the person, they would have a better chance of escaping and/or being accepted by another country. This is evidenced in the case study with the majority acceptance of children by the USSR or the preference of upper class people in Mexico (Pla, 2001).

Conclusions

It is possible to think that, from a human perspective, there is a level of cynicism when looking at the fact that  factors such as political ideology or geographical proximity are so decisive in determining whether a human being is a refugee or not.

It can be argued that a thought-through and overtly analytical  decision process of a refugee fleeing from such a conflict is almost non-existent at the beginning. Urgency is what matters, since refugees would look at safety in the process of their mobility.This process is perfectly exemplified by the Republican exiles who first fled to neighboring France until the conflict was over and they could return or they were able to find a safer place to live.

Bibliography:

Alted Vigil, Alicia. “El exilio español en la Unión Soviética.” Ayer, 47 (2002): 129-154.

Crawley, Heaven & Hagen-Zanker (2019). “Deciding Where to go: Policies, People and Perceptions Shaping Destination Preferences”. IOM. https://doi.org/10.1111/imig.12537

Escobar Deras, M., & Bocanegra Barbecho, L. (2022). Memoria compartida, memoria heredada: análisis del fenómeno del retorno individual de los exiliados republicanos españoles (1939-2010). In José Francisco Mejía Flores, Laura Beatriz Moreno Rodríguez (Coord.), Redes políticas desde los exilios iberoamericanos (pp. 393–428). Universidad Nacional Autónoma de México. https://doi.org/10.5281/zenodo.10792013

Graham, Helen, (2005). “The Spanish Civil War: A Very Short Introduction.” DOI: https://doi.org/10.1093/actrade/9780192803771.001.0001

Klein Bosquet, Oliver. “El exilio español en el Magreb”. Exilios en el mundo contemporáneo, (2016): 201-224.

Mirón González, Rubén. “Asistencia y condiciones sociosanitarias de los exiliados españoles en el sur de Francia, 1936-1945.” Universidad de Almería, 2019.

Olmos Sánchez, Isabel. “América y el exilio español republicano”. Anales de historia contemporánea, 131-147

Ortuño Martínez, Bárbara. “El exilio y la emigración española de posguerra en Buenos Aires, 1936-1956.” Biblioteca Virtual Miguel de Cervantes, 2012.

Pla Brugat, Dolores. “La presencia española en México: 1930-1990.” Migraciones & Exilios: Cuadernos de la Asociación para el estudio de los exilios y migraciones ibéricos contemporáneos, (2001): 157-188.

“Let me begin again. Dear Ma, …:”On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous – Ocean Vuong and the Vietnam War

Christina Hannah Stainthorpe, BA

“Brilliant … It pays attention not to what our thoughts make us feel,                                                  but to what our feelings make us think.”

– The New York Times

Take a moment to imagine the following: What if you could hear, see, and speak but still not communicate with the people around you? What if your mother tongue was somehow frozen in time? If you had only limited access to it, but couldn’t use it to its full potential? What if it wasn’t a mother but an orphan (cf. Vuong 2019: 31)? Ocean Vuong’s mother can’t read. The school she went to in Vietnam collapsed due to an American napalm raid when she was five years old. She never went back to school again (cf. Vuong 2019: 31). And yet Ocean Vuong writes a book for her. To her. Vuong takes us on a journey in three parts down memory lane; together with him, we relive his memories. It’s like flicking through an album full of photographs: childhood memories, traumatic events, teenage years, joy and grief … Brief glimpses, fleeting moments, which seem to float by. But still, they let us piece together a person’s story. A story that was shaped by a war Ocean Vuong had never lived through.

Ocean Vuong was born in Saigon, Vietnam, but grew up in Hartford, Connecticut. After a semester of studying International Marketing at Pace University, he decided to enrol at Brooklyn College instead, where he did his BA in Nineteenth Century American Literature. He went on to NYU, where he received his MFA in Poetry. He now lives in Northampton, Massachusetts as well as in New York City, where he is a Professor of Modern Poetry and Poetics in the MFA Programme at NYU (cf. Vuong 2023b).

A winner of numerous awards for his poetry collection Night Sky with Exit (cf. Vuong 2019), Ocean Vuong’s first ever novel, On Earth we’re briefly gorgeous, was nominated for the National Book Award and PEN/Hemingway Award for Debut Novel. Vuong is the winner of the American Book Award, the Mark Twain American Voice in Literature, the New England Book Award, the Massachusetts Book Award, the Connecticut Book Award, the Brooklyn Public Library Literary Prize the Publishing Triangle’s Award for Fiction as well as the Digital Book World: Best Book (cf. Vuong 2023a).

Little Dog, as Ocean Vuong is called by his mother and grandmother, grows up in a small flat in  Hartford, Connecticut with his mother Rose, who works at a nail salon, and his grandmother Lan. Throughout the novel, we learn about Little Dog’s relationship with his mother and grandmother, his childhood in Hartford, his teenage years working on a farm, his first love, and we learn about the family’s history which was shaped by the Vietnam war. On Earth we’re briefly gorgeous is about being a refugee, trying to fit in and learning to survive. We do not learn about the details of the war or what it was like for Little Dog’s family to flee. We don’t have to. In his remarkable debut novel, Ocean Vuong tells us everything we need to know to understand the life-changing impact wars have on individuals and families.

“Before I could ask what was wrong, her hand, cold and wet, grabbed my mouth.   She placed her finger over her lips.  ‘Shhh. If you scream,’ I heard her say, ‘the mortars will know where we are.’” (Vuong 2019: 19)

After the Second World War, the US was eager to try to stop Communism from spreading and intervened in the Vietnam War, helping South Vietnam against the Communist North (cf. Gitlin 2014: 22–28). In this book, we learn about the war through a very personal story, which makes it more real and even more horrifying than reading about it in a mere academic history book. Little Dog’s grandmother, Lan, who grows up in Vietnam, runs away from her husband when she is pregnant. (Their daughter, Mai, is Little Dog’s aunt.) First, Lan works as a sex worker before she meets Little Dog’s grandfather, an American soldier (cf. Vuong 2019: 46). Their daughter, Rose, Little Dog’s mother, also grows up in Vietnam. The neighbourhood kids there would try to scrape the white off her with a spoon, because she doesn’t look like them, having a “white” father (cf. Vuong 2019: 63). Sadly, Little Dog’s mother will stay an “outsider” throughout her entire life. In the US, although she has “light” skin, she won’t fit in either because she doesn’t speak fluent English.

In 1990, when Little Dog is a toddler, he arrives in the United States together with his grandmother Lan and his mother Rose (cf. Vuong 2019: 51). Although they’ve escaped the aftermath of a war, they still suffer hardships as refugees in the US. – Lan has schizophrenia. We don’t find out if she gets treatment. One night, there are fireworks outside; Lan wakes up and thinks she is back in Vietnam during the war. She puts her hand over Little Dog’s mouth to keep him quiet so the mortars wouldn’t be able to find them (cf. Vuong 2019: 19). This is only one of many examples that show us how, even after years of living in the US in safety, a war and its memories still creep up on those who lived through it.

“‘Speak English,’ said the boy with a yellow bowl cut, his jowls flushed and rippling. […]   They waited to see what would happen. […] The second slap came from above, from another boy.” (Vuong 2019: 24)

“I’m drinking light, I thought. I’m filling myself with light. The milk would erase all the dark inside me with a flood of brightness.” (Vuong 2019: 27)

On several occasions, Little Dog is physically abused by other children. For not keeping quiet, for not speaking English the way they do, for looking different. He is on the school bus, trying to hide his face from the others by pressing it against the window because he knows he possesses “rare features in these parts”. The other kids taunt him all the same, shove his face into the glass, slap him. Little Dog describes his memory of that day: “The cruellest walls are made of glass, Ma.” (cf. Vuong 2019: 51). Memories like these want to make us scream and rush to Little Dog’s rescue. It seems cruel that the only thing we can do is to read on to see how his life turns out.

“The time with your fists, shouting in the parking lot, the late sun etching your hair red.  My arms shielding my head as your knuckles thudded around me.” (Vuong 2019: 8)

“The boy is six and wearing nothing but a pair of white underwear with Supermans patterned everywhere. You know this story. […] His mother, you remember this, has locked him in the basement for wetting his bed again. […] She had dragged him out of bed by the arm, then down the stairs as he screamed, begging, ‘One more chance, Ma. One more chance.’” (Vuong 2019: 98)

Little Dog is also frequently abused by his mother. Verbally and physically. When he tells her about the incident on the school bus, where a group of children was standing around him in a circle, harassing and slapping him, his mother gets angry with him. She tells him off for not fighting back and slaps him (cf. Vuong 2019: 26). Once, in a parking lot – we don’t learn why – he has to shield himself from his mother’s fists (cf. Vuong 2019: 8). On another occasion, when he wets his bed again at the age of six, his mother locks him in the cellar (cf. Vuong 2019: 98). What Vuong shows us by describing these traumatizing childhood memories is that refugee stories don’t end happily ever after when a family crosses a border and finally reaches safety. The fight goes on. Every single day. 

By writing this book to his mother, Vuong says he is trying to reach her. – “Even if each word I put down is one word further from where you are.” (cf. Vuong 2019: 3). On Earth we’re briefly gorgeous is a beautifully written, but at the same time heartbreaking novel about the long-lasting impact of war on individuals and on families as well as the hardships people face as refugees in a country where they are supposed to be safe. Or as Vuong puts it: “When does a war end?” (Vuong 2019: 12)

Bibliography:

Gitlin, Martin (2014). Vietnam War. Minneapolis: ABDO Publishing Company.

Vuong, Ocean (2019). On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous. London: Penguin Random House.

Vuong, Ocean (2023a). The Novel. https://www.oceanvuong.com/about (28.06.2024).

Vuong, Ocean (2023b). About. https://www.oceanvuong.com/about (28.06.2024).

Coming Back Home

Jules Delamare, BA

The United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) uses the term “returnee” to refer to a refugee or internally displaced person who has returned to their country or area of origin to remain there permanently.  Thus, for forced displaced, internally displaced, and refugees, coming back home is not rare or disregarded; on the contrary, it is often a desired outcome encouraged and supported by states and international organizations. For example, in 2020, 137 Syrian refugees returned voluntarily from Denmark to Syria, each receiving about 25,000 Euros from the Danish government (European Asylum Support Office 2021, 11). According to UNHCR, in 2022, 339,300 refugees were able to voluntarily return to their country of origin (UNHCR 2024). In the United States, between 1900 and 1980, out of 30 million migrants and refugees admitted, one-third, or 10 million, returned home again. (Long, Lynellyn,Oxfeld 2017, 2) What does “coming back home” mean for refugees after the situation in their country of origin improves? Returning to the country of origin can be both a forced and voluntary return, as well as organized or individual. I reflect here on voluntary returns and the motivations of those who have often experienced traumatic events that forced them to flee their country of origin. In their host countries, they often found relative political, social, and economic stability; this is arguably the case of refugees from the Global South fleeing to the Global North. Is returning home a natural process, or is it more complicated? Is the concept of “home” still obvious for refugees coming back?

 Scholar David Newbury has explored the concept of “home” among refugees. He argues in his work that “home” is not merely a geographical location, but a term rooted in relationships. Consequently, shifts in these relationships can profoundly influence one’s sense of “home” as much as changes in physical or social environments. For individuals away for extended periods, the idea of “returning” can be complex. Thus, home as geographical space may be unchanged but as a social space, it may change, making the idea of “return” problematic. The example of Rwandan refugees in this sense is striking. In 1996, the Hutus who previously fled the country, due to fears of retaliations and associations with the genocide, returned to Rwanda. However, although they had been gone for only three years, they found their homes occupied, their belongings appropriated, and their fields claimed by others. In addition to this, they returned under a government that was suspicious of them, arbitrarily imprisoning several thousands of Hutus who had allegedly participated in the genocide (Newbury 2005, 280). In this case, for those refugees, there was little sense of coming home. We can wonder what motivated them to return home. There are few reasons that may explain this: first, there is the fact that the government called all refugees, both Tutsi and Hutu, to go back home to participate in the effort to rebuild and reconcile the country (Newbury 2005, 278). Second, we have to take into consideration that those refugees had been living in precarious situations in neighboring countries, often in refugee camps. Therefore, going back home often might have been a more desirable option.

In the West, we often assume that refugees want to settle permanently in their host countries, especially when this is located in wealthy Western nations. However, this is not always the case; take for example the case of Eritrean refugees who decided to return. The end of thirty years of war between Eritrea and Ethiopia in 1991 gave Eritrean refugees the opportunity to return. While many found asylum in Sudan, a small number were granted resettlement in the United States, Canada, Sweden, and Germany. Lucia Ann McSpadden has looked at the decision-making process of some of these refugees, particularly those who settled in wealthy Western countries, to understand their motivations for returning to this newly peaceful but highly impoverished country (Long, Lynellyn,Oxfeld 2017). She emphasized that exile in Western countries has not always been free of problems and trauma for refugees. For Eritrean refugees in the United States or Europe, facing prejudices and structural racism as Africans has, indeed, been a significant factor in considering a return to their home country (Long, Lynellyn,Oxfeld 2017, 36). When returning for visits, refugees often experience positive emotions and a sense of homecoming, which motivates them to reflect on a permanent settlement (Long, Lynellyn,Oxfeld 2017, 40).

As an Ethiopian migrant myself living in France, I also felt this sense of belonging when returning to Ethiopia for vacation. Although I had only lived in the country during the first six years of my life, I idealized the few memories I had and longed to return home. Initially, I experienced a strong sense of belonging, connecting with people who resembled me, especially around my family there. However, I also felt a mix of emotions, realizing that I had grown up in a culturally different country. Furthermore, my socioeconomic status in Ethiopia only accentuated the differences, and I did not feel as at home as I had hoped. Returning home was more symbolic for me than actually returning to a familiar social landscape associated with home. Therefore, I believe that refugees who have been away for long periods, especially in Western countries, may experience similar mixed feelings when returning home, making the process less natural than it may seem.

Eritrean refugees were probably aware of possibilities in terms of education, professional prospects, and medical care in their host countries compared to Eritrea, which made the decision not easy, especially for families with children who wanted their children to benefit from the Western education system (Long, Lynellyn,Oxfeld 2017, 39). Generally, what emerges as the main motivation for their return is their socioeconomic status; this fundamentally plays a crucial role in facilitating the return of refugees. Ultimately, education and financial resources often empower people when they come back. Research has shown that some people use their economic resources to settle back and create a new business in Eritrea. Education was interpreted as empowering, particularly for women who can imagine their return emancipated from local customs, enabling them to delay marriage, gain autonomy, and protect their rights (Long, Lynellyn,Oxfeld 2017, 44).

While the process of return may signify a return to a place they once called home and were familiar with, refugees often face challenges due to altered social landscapes. Coming back home is not always obvious or natural but necessitates a reintegration process, offering

refugees the opportunity to navigate the complexities of returning and find a renewed sense of home.

Bibliography:

Long, Lynellyn D., and Ellen Oxfeld. “Coming Home? : Refugees, Migrants, and Those Who Stayed Behind”. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, (2017). online resource. DOI: 10.9783/9781512821659.

Newbury, David. “Returning Refugees: Four Historical Patterns of ‘Coming Home’ to Rwanda.” Comparative Studies in Society and History 47, no. 2 (2005): 252–285. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0010417505000137.

UNHCR. “Returnees.” Accessed May 10, 2024. https://www.unhcr.org/about-unhcr/who-we-protect/returnees

European Asylum Support Office. “Syria Situation: Returnees from Abroad.” *Situation of Returnees from Abroad: Country of Origin Information Report, (June 202). Accessed May 12, 2024. https://euaa.europa.eu/sites/default/files/publications/2021_06_EASO_Syria_Situation_returnees_fro m_abroad.pdf.

Psychological Adaptation of Ukrainians During the War: A Personal Reflection

Kateryna Kaminska, BA

When war arrives, it impacts everything around us. Initially, people are shocked and deeply affected, but over time, this new reality becomes the norm. In the case of the war in Ukraine, regardless of where Ukrainians ended up, whether they were forcefully displaced (including internally), fought on the front, or they stayed home, everyone’s life changed. Everyone had to adapt to this new reality. The challenge of war provoked the emergence of mini social conflicts, namely the search for support and condemnation of people’s actions in a conflict.

In her study Why people stay Nadine Biehler divided the civilian population in the war into four groups (Biehler 2023: 9). These groups include those who left (migrants), those who chose to stay (voluntary immobility), those who would like to leave but cannot (forced immobility), and those who put up with staying (acquiescent immobility), often because of age or lack of resources. However, these categories simplify a complex reality, as intentions and capacities exist in different ranges and depend on constraints and individual situations. Thus, she suggest, we can more easily contrast refugees with those who choose to stay voluntarily or involuntarily. Departing from this, I focus here on contrasting migrants and those who remain.

I find it quite relevant to note here some facts from a different conflict, namely the Syrian Civil War; this began in 2011 and contributed to the displacement of over 13 million Syrians, creating a massive refugee crisis that tested the resilience and compassion of neighboring countries and the international community. Heba Gowayed, a researcher specializing in the study of unequal institutions faced by migrants and refugees, wrote about the life stories of Syrians who were forced to leave their homes in her book Refuge: How the State Shapes Human Potential. According to eyewitness accounts in her book, Syrian men faced three possibilities during those times: kill, die, or leave (Gowayed 2022: 24). She wrote that people who decided to flee had to be prepared for the challenges ahead and to adapt to a new country where it was likely that they might also experience social rejection. It is also important to emphasize here that people in such moments are already going through tough experiences that are individual in nature. This can be the death of loved ones, physical or mental injuries, loss of property, and so on.

A very similar situation can now be observed when it comes to Ukrainians in or outside of Ukraine. This is my own story. I am from Maryinka, Donetsk region, which is in the east of Ukraine. The Russian invasion of the Eastern part of Ukraine initially took place in 2014, at which time my family left the house I grew up in. Although it was a very difficult decision for us, we also had no choice since my home was in a gray zone where there was simply constant shelling. We moved to a neighboring town because we couldn’t even imagine a further migration, and my parents’ previous jobs also played an important role. Then, we faced a wave of criticism because we left home. I vividly remember how angry we were – feeling powerless and unable to return to our home and misunderstood by other people. In Nadine Biehler’s typology, I can categorize our family as those who have left. In this way, we were judged both by those who stayed in our hometown and by the people in the town where we moved to. There is not a single civilian left in Maryinka today.

A separate aspect is the media landscape which people face. In her research (Myalenko 2016), Viktoriia Myalenko analyzed newspaper and online publications and identified the types of attitudes Ukrainians have towards internally displaced persons. These are: ‘Refugees’, ‘Displaced persons’, ‘Ideological persons’, ‘Adventurers’, and ‘Freebies’. She also concludes that those respondents who saw IDPs as ‘Refugees’ were tolerant and positive towards them while those who saw IDPs as ‘Adventurers’ or ‘Freebies’ showed their displeasure.

When full-scale war broke out on February 24, 2022, millions of Ukrainians faced many challenges. This left its imprint on their future. For example, psychologists have long proved that prolonged stay in stressful situations negatively affects people’s psyche. Thus, according to Ukrainian psychologists Viktoria Predko and Denys Predko, people experienced severe headaches, irritability, sleep problems, memory impairment, and other symptoms of stress (Predko 2023: 83). They argued that such symptoms were more likely to occur in those who were abroad, in a combat zone, had fled abroad, or had relatives who were in the conflict zone.

In practical terms, it is crucial to provide people with psychological support in times of war. There is an urgent need for more professional psychologists to address the growing mental health problems of Ukrainians. Psychologists are needed to work with both military and civilian populations. In addition, it is important to implement social projects to dispel myths about IDPs and to bring IDPs and the local population closer together. To create a more resilient society, a psychological foundation must be laid.

Bibliography:

  • Biehler, N. (2023). Why people stay: decision-making in situations of forced displacement and options for humanitarian aid and development cooperation. (SWP Research Paper, 15/2023). Berlin: Stiftung Wissenschaft und Politik -SWP- Deutsches Institut für Internationale Politik und Sicherheit. https://doi.org/10.18449/2023RP15
    • Heba Gowayed, “Becoming a Refugee,” in Refuge: How the State Shapes Human Potential (Princeton University Press, 2022)
    • Myalenko V. V., Peculiarities of the attitude of Ukrainians to internally displaced persons, in Problems of Political Psychology (2016) http://nbuv.gov.ua/UJRN/pppr_2016_4_8 [in Ukrainian]

    Life On Hold: Asylum Seekers Waiting For a Better Life

    Lea-Sophie Müller-Praefcke, BA

    I find myself standing in the queue at the supermarket checkout – an inner restlessness sets in. I glance at my cell phone every other moment to check the time while idly twiddling my thumbs. Even though it was my decision to do my shopping at this particular supermarket today, it now feels as if I have relinquished all control of my situation here in line.

    We live in an era that is characterized by a relentless pace: everyone appears rushed, time is equated with money. In what is arguably a neoliberal society, waiting is associated with uselessness and unproductivity – and although we experience the phenomenon waiting daily, it is still not always easy to endure.

    For asylum seekers, the phenomenon of waiting is not just a passing inconvenience: it shapes their existence. They often endure weeks, months, and sometimes even years awaiting decisions regarding their asylum. But for most of them, waiting does not start there. Before seeking asylum, many wait for the start of their fleeing journey, for a smuggler, for the bus, for suitable weather conditions for a boat transfer, for papers, for admissions, for family members, for the possibility to start a job and much more. This “waiting” is something that social anthropologists Christine M. Jacobsen and Marry-Anne Karlsen (2020: 2), both at the University of Bergen in Norway, describe “as a particular engagement in, and with, time in migration”.

    While “waiting” seems universal, asylum seekers’ experiences are not comparable to my own mundane ones. They represent two vastly different forms of waiting. For example, Jacobsen and Karlsen (2021: 3) differentiate between waiting for routine bureaucratic procedures, which they describe as “situational“ (this would also include my supermarket-waiting), and the open-ended forms of waiting “for regularization, justice and uncertain futures“, which they name “existential waiting.” Although having one term in common, it is therefore not possible to compare waiting at the supermarket checkout with waiting for a decision which betrays one’s existence. Waiting as a refugee is characterized by an existential uncertainty.

    Nigerian writer Epaphras Chukwuenweniwe Osondu (2008: n.s.) captures the essence of waiting in a refugee camp: “Here in camp, we wait and wait and then wait some more. It is the only thing we do.” The prolonged wait in camps is a shared experience among many refugees. Although the examination procedures are only supposed to take ten days, status processing  often extends for months or even years – a time of existential waiting and uncertainty for asylum seekers.

    Governments attribute these delays to bureaucratic hurdles and as a by-product of the structural conditions: life in camps – which frequently fails to fulfill basic human rights – is due to a “humanitarian catastrophe.” This depoliticizes power dynamics and a situation often created by states. Instead of legislative changes or increased staffing, asylum seekers are left to wait even longer, illustrating how making someone wait can be an exercise of power.

    Asylum seekers’ lives are fully dependent on the decisions made by others – often anonymous structures – and yet, they are in many cases left on their own. In a 2016 Médicins Sans Frontières study about refugee mental health, based in four refugee camps in mainland Greece, in the regions of Attica, Epirus and on the island of Samos, some asylum seekers spoke of their life only consisting of sleeping and eating (Bjertrup et al. 2018: 57). One Syrian woman thus claimed: “For one year, I have been waiting for the telephone to ring. Every day, I am waiting by the telephone the whole day. I do not do anything” (ebd.: 57). Michel Agier describes refugee camps as “a place of waiting apart from society” (ebd.: 58). Refugees live in standby, in between the past they fled from and the future they want to start a new life in. The status is “in between”, not knowing what comes next, what to focus on, between hope and devastation. It can easily become a “chronic waiting”, which is related to deteriorating affects like “anticipation, desire, hope, urgency, doubt, uncertainty, anxiety boredom, dread, anger, to shame and apathy” (Khosravi et al. 2021: 3-4).

    A 2009 study also related to refugees’ mental health highlighted that most of the asylum seekers in the United States suffered from psychological distress at the time of research: 86 percent are reporting severe levels of depressive symptoms (Ryan et al. 2009: 90), with the duration of the asylum procedure correlating with increased risk of psychiatric disorder (ebd.: 104). The main source of perceived stress is the fear of being sent home, in unwanted conditions. Other relevant issues, this study showed, were concerns about family members back home, unemployment, discrimination, loneliness and boredom (ebd.). Other studies have highlighted that “forced passivity over long periods of time can be harmful for mental wellbeing”, as the lack of right to work and lack of meaningful activities make time seem empty and pointless (Bjertrup 2018: 58). Furthermore, the experience of waiting can also result in sleep disorders, psychosomatic pain, dread, angst and guilt (Singer 2019: 97).

    If one searches the concept “asylum seekers” online and looks at various photos, it seems as if these people are always on the run and migration would only consist of movement: by foot with big baggage on their back, on an overcrowded boat, walking in a long queue – all of this with the hope of a better life somewhere else. Yet, there is another dimension of asylum seekers’ lives: indefinite waiting in limited spaces, losing control, being exposed to idleness, and waiting for the government to make a decision about their future before they can become active to control the next steps in their lives to come.

    Bibliography:

    Bjertrup, Pia Juul/ Bouhenia, Malika/ Mayaud, Philippe/ Perrin, Clément/ Farhat, Jihane Ben/      Blanchet, Karl (2018): A life in waiting: Refugees mental health and narratives of social        suffering after European Union border closures in March 2016. In: Social Science &             Medicine 215, p. 53-60.

    Dermot A. Ryan/ Fiona E. Kelly/ Brendan D. Kelly (2009): Mental Health Among Persons Awaiting       an Asylum Outcome in Western Countries. In: International Journal of Mental Health, 38:3,   p.88-111.

    Jacobsen, Christine M./ Karlsen, Marry-Anne (2020): Introduction. Unpacking the temporalities of         irregular migration. In: Christine M. Jacobsen, Marry-Anne Karlsen, Shahram Khosravi (eds.): Waiting and the temporalities of irregular migration. Routledge, p. 1-19.

    Osondu, Epaphras Chukwuenweniwe (2008): Waiting. Online:        https://www.guernicamag.com/waiting/ (retrieved on 12.04.2024).

    Singer, Christoph (2019): The Camp as Extra-Temporal Space in E.C. Osondu`s “Waiting“ and    Dinaw Mengestu`s “An Honest Exit”. In: Christoph Singer, Robert Wirth, Olaf Berwald          (eds.): Timescapes of Waiting: Spaces of Stasis, Delay and Deferral. Brill, Rodopi, p. 94- 107.