How photographs contribute to understanding refugee history: Kukes, the Kosovar refugees and lessons for refugee aid
The border is about to open.
The main street of the Albanian town of Kukes, 20km from the Kosovo border, is lined with tens of thousands of jubilant and cautious locals, interspersed with Kosovar refugees who have been waiting, seemingly endlessly, to return home. ‘The atmosphere was incredible, euphoric – the crowd was chanting “NATO, NATO, NATO”,’ says Christian Oster, a Danish aid worker who was in Kukes with his camera that day. At 23 years of age, Christian was offered the opportunity to manage a food distribution programme in Kukes refugee camp for up to 30,000 refugees. Around 300,000 refugees fled Kosovo via Kukes and either remained in or around the town, moved further south, or travelled abroad. In an interview available to watch below, Christian describes his experiences in Kukes, lessons for contemporary refugee aid and the photographs he brought home.
Photographing history
Nineteen years since the Kosovo War, Christian now lives in Sydney and works in the medical technology sector. On a windy, wintery afternoon in Sydney, we begin the interview with a reflection on the liberation of Kosovo by NATO ground forces on 10th June 1999. It’s the day before the NATO-Milosevic ceasefire is due to take place, and the Western allies are seemingly in a hurry. Russian forces are already on the march. Christian recalls:
‘Rumour had it that [NATO forces] were arriving a day earlier than planned to prevent the Russians from taking over the airport in Pristina… Russian peacekeepers in Bosnia (collectively known as SFOR) raced into Kosovo to allegedly protect Yugoslavia-owned fighter jets stationed there. It was believed they did not want Russian technology to fall into NATO hands.’
Christian later learned that Serbian forces were preparing to undertake a ‘scorched earth’ exit of Prizren, which is on the main route from Kukes to Pristina, ‘but had to withdraw quickly as the German NATO troops were advancing… so indirectly, the Russians saved Prizren.’
With his Konica film camera, Christian scans the crowd gathered along the main thoroughfare of Kukes, noting the presence of UAE security forces marked by their red berets holding back civilians and refugees, alongside aid workers from around the world. The way is cleared for NATO’s arrival.
German military convoy in Kukes. Courtesy Christian Oster.
First, the sound of military carrier vehicles begins to pierce the cheers of onlookers, now brimming over balconies. Then the chopping sound of chains hitting the pavement. The tanks have arrived. Slowly the distinct insignia of the German soldier riding atop comes into focus. Over Christian’s shoulder, an American marine appears from out of nowhere. Binoculars are brought to the marine’s face, and in a few moments a salute is shared between him and a German tank officer. In one of those rare instances of perfect timing, Christian captures this moment on film. Christian says:
‘The photo of the German saluting the American is probably the most interesting photo I have ever taken. You can see it is slightly blurry, as I had to react very quickly. This was the first time the German army operated in a war zone outside of Germany since WW2. To see the Germans and Americans on the same side, in a European war, and one saluting the other, it was probably a historic first.’
TV cameraman rides on troop carrier in Kukes. Courtesy Christian Oster.
Christian turns his camera back toward the German military column, capturing a TV cameraman who is gripping on to the nearest troop carrier as it convoys through the town. A few hours later, Christian heard a cameraman was killed just over the border; ‘Apparently it was a landmine that hit the truck.’
The photographic lens
What do photographs contribute to broader historical understandings, and specifically to this chapter of refugee history? More importantly, what does historical interpretation contribute to understanding photographic records of the past? A significant portion of news articles and photographs published in the Australian news sources that I analyzed for Generosity and Refugees centered on the plights of Kosovar refugee children. The number of children depicted far surpassed depictions of adults. Within this coverage, two key frames were the loss of ‘innocence’ and a chance to redeem and rebuild ‘hope’, such as in the media examples below.
Sources (left-right): The Daily Telegraph 19th April 1999; and, The Daily Telegraph, 8th May 1999.
Photographic representations of children in Western media coverage during the Kosovo War invoked an urgency about the conflict among NATO-allied media audiences, which had the effect of building support for the NATO intervention; Buckley and Cummings argue that NATO states needed to publicly justify the fighting by selling war to democracies that were not being attacked.
Media images of refugee children enduring the violence of war were intended to generate among audiences a sense of moral urgency, promoting emotional disbelief and outrage. On the other hand, media images of refugee children at ease and smiling while in Australia’s care in the post-evacuation context were aimed at generating feelings of goodwill among readers. These representations paralleled the Australian government’s policy positions: both as supporters of the NATO alliance, and in supporting its publicity campaign to appear ‘generous’ towards a widely popular group of refugees.
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Photographs taken by Christian were intended for his personal use after the war, but he was also gifted photographs from a ‘random’ professional photographer (who remains unknown) as a gesture of ‘thanks’ for being permitted to document the Kukes refugee camp. Both of these photographic collections appear in Generosity and Refugees: The Kosovars in Exile.
