The unwilling nomads of twentieth-century Europe

In the first half of the twentieth century millions of Europeans were displaced by war, genocide, the redrawing of international borders, and autocratic regimes. While some were forcibly deported from their homelands and had little agency, others decided to flee on their own in response to forces beyond their control. Although not all of them were necessarily forced to move, by and large they were certainly unwilling to move. While it is generally accepted now that the boundary between ‘forced’ and ‘voluntary’ migration is often blurry, and that the experiences of people on the move can be better represented as a spectrum rather than a simple dichotomy, different types of forced migrants still tend to be studied separately. By pointing to the fact that refugees often experience more than one form of displacement in their lives Elena Fiddian-Qasmiyeh has recently called for a methodological shift in refugee studies that would emphasise overlapping relations between different displaced groups.  

Displacement of nationally defined groups, such as German expellees or Polish refugees, has typically been presented as a homogenous experience of victimhood and/or an example of successful integration in the host country. The multifaceted nature of the refugee experience has rarely been incorporated into the wider history of (forced) migration within Europe. However, to gain a deeper understanding of European forced migration movements in the first half of the twentieth century, it makes little sense to study refugee groups in isolation. 

In order to address the need for a more integrated analysis our edited volume A Transnational History of Forced Migrants in Europe. Unwilling Nomads in the Age of the Two World Wars looks at the collective experience of different refugee groups through the lens of a four-dimensional model of ‘host society’, ‘homeland’, ‘diaspora’ and ‘other diasporas’. The volume presents fifteen interrelated case studies with the aim of highlighting transnational patterns that challenge the conventional paradigm in the historiography of forced migration. The first three dimensions of a diasporic relationship (‘host society’, ‘homeland’ and ‘diaspora’) have long been recognised by scholars of migration. While some refugees continue to identify strongly with their homeland and actively engage with diasporic associations, others consciously adopt a low profile and distance themselves from their compatriots in an attempt to ‘blend in’ with the dominant society. The relationship with the broader diaspora is especially complicated for those migrants who were persecuted in the ‘homeland’ as members of a minority group. For example, the amalgamation of Polish national identity with Roman Catholicism, together with instances of anti-Semitism among Polish refugees, led to the further alienation of Polish Jews from the Polish diaspora in Britain. In any case, the country of origin and the conditions of displacement typically remain points of reference for forced migrants for the rest of their lives. Decisions taken in the country of origin continue to affect refugees, even when they are settled in the receiving society, raised their children there, learned the language of the region and familiarised themselves with its habits. Despite participation in the new society (and the gratitude they may feel towards a country that offered them shelter), many refugees continue to relate to their homeland even decades after their displacement and they often pass down a hybrid national identity to the next generation of the diaspora.  

In our volume we suggest adding a fourth dimension: a continuous and evolving relationship with members of other diasporas living within the same country. Migrants and refugees from different countries of origin interact with each other in the workplaces, churches, cultural institutions, political organisations, and so on. This dimension of the diasporic relationship can take the form of coexistence, cooperation or conflict, and it can shape the lives of migrants even decades after their initial displacement. Examples cited in our book demonstrate that encounters with members of different diasporic communities were a formative experience in the lives of many ‘unwilling nomads’. As Aaron Clift demonstrates, different Eastern European émigré groups in post-war France could find a common ground of shared anti-communist beliefs. In turn, Samantha K. Knapton and Lennart Onken show in their chapters that Holocaust survivors and liberated forced labourers in British-occupied Germany were confronted with former Nazi collaborators from different East European countries who were often housed in the same Displaced Persons camps. In the daily lives of many refugees, contact with other migrants, who shared the same struggle of rebuilding their lives in an alien country, could often be as important as the relationships formed with the more aloof and sometimes indifferent locals. Unfortunately, this dimension of the refugee experience is too often overlooked in the literature because it does not fit neatly within dominant narratives of immigrant integration.   

Our four-dimensional model of diaspora can therefore be used by historians as an analytical tool that offers the possibility of looking at the formation of migrant communities as a phenomenon in itself, and not only in relation to the national histories of the respective countries of origin and settlement. By looking at the experience of involuntary migration as a complex set of evolving relationships with the receiving society, the country of origin, one’s own diaspora and other migrant communities in the same host country, refugees can be studied as actors of historical significance in and of themselves. The four-dimensional model allows us to eschew the still dominant narratives of national resilience and (un)successful assimilation, which presuppose an essentialised and exclusive sense of nationality. In fact, the case studies in our book reveal that migrant identities in the first half of the twentieth century were hybrid, individualised and constantly reconstructed in response to socio-economic forces and political pressures. The ultimate purpose of our edited volume is therefore to remind readers about the necessity of looking at ‘unwilling nomads’ from a genuinely transnational perspective. In contrast to the proliferating narratives of national victimhood, contributions to our volume suggest that age, gender, social class, educational level and personal experience of individuals are more important to the understanding of the refugee predicament than a collective ethnoreligious identity.