OPINION
GUEST ESSAY
Europe, the ‘Dark Continent,’ Is the Stage for
Another Great Migration
March 14,
2022
By Peter
Gatrell
Mr. Gatrell
is a historian of modern migration and the author of “The Unsettling of Europe:
How Migration Reshaped a Continent.”
https://www.nytimes.com/2022/03/14/opinion/ukraine-refugees-europe.html
Another
great migration is underway.
At least
two and a half million Ukrainians have fled Russia’s merciless bombardment to
countries across Europe, while roughly another two million have been internally
displaced within Ukraine. It is a tragic upheaval: families have been split
apart, homes abandoned, lives upended. What’s happening is a horror, a human
travesty.
Yet the
situation, however bleak, is not without precedents. At the height of the war
in Bosnia and Herzegovina in 1992 one million people fled their homes. By the
time the war ended in late 1995, half of the population had been displaced,
many of them internally. Over the course of the 20th century, Europe — the
“dark continent” in Mark Mazower’s memorable phrase — was the stage for
numerous refugee crises.
To the
people seeking shelter and security amid a brutal war, that’s of little
comfort. But there’s something significant in the fact that Europe — and the
world — has risen to the challenge of accommodating and protecting great
numbers of refugees before. What’s more, large movements of refugees have
spurred the development of more humane and just approaches to refugee
settlement.
In an
imperfect world, where at least 82.4 million people were forcibly displaced by
the end of 2020, it’s worth remembering these efforts. In the past, calamity
has often been the crucible of change. And today, in the welcome extended to
Ukrainians across the continent, we might see the glimmers of a better future.
“The word
‘refugee,’” wrote the renowned journalist and war correspondent Martha
Gellhorn, “is drenched in memories.” In Europe, those memories cast a long
shadow, none more so than World War II. And with good reason: In the war’s
aftermath around 10 million ethnic Germans — men, women and children — were
expelled from East-Central Europe. And more than half a million Ukrainians and
at least one million Poles were displaced when the border between Poland and
the Soviet Union was redrawn.
World War I
caused similar upheaval. Before, during and after the war, refugees moved in
great numbers across the continent, maybe as many as 15 million during the war
itself. The rapid flight of civilians from the enemy invasion of Belgium in
1914 and Serbia in 1915, for example, bears comparison with the situation in
today’s Ukraine. The population loss was staggering: Between one-fifth and
one-tenth of their respective populations sought refuge abroad until it was
safe to return.
Nor should
we forget the scale and pace of displacement beyond Europe. In South Asia, the
numbers beggar belief. Between 14 and 18 million people were displaced by the
Partition of India. The situation in Punjab was particularly intense: Eight
million refugees fled across the new border separating West Pakistan from India
in the space of three months in late 1947. A couple of decades later, the war
that led to the creation of Bangladesh in 1971 displaced around three million
refugees within a matter of weeks.
These
historical episodes help us to understand the present. But the numbers tell
only half the story. Alongside some of the great upheavals in the past have
come collective, international responses. In many cases, as with the refugees
fleeing Franco’s Spain during the Spanish Civil War in the late 1930s, these
have been, first and foremost, the provision of emergency humanitarian aid in
the form of food, shelter and temporary settlement. Countries around the world,
including Russia, have contributed to such efforts.
But refugee
crises have also led to more durable, institutional solutions. In fact, it was
events in Russia and East-Central Europe that first led politicians and
diplomats to hammer out some formal protections for refugees. The Russian
Revolution and the ensuing civil war prompted the League of Nations to create
the Office of the High Commissioner for Refugees in 1921, the first
international institution to support refugees.
The
arrangements were not universal — they did little or nothing for the victims of
interwar fascism, or for non-European refugees such as Ethiopians who suffered at
the hands of Italy’s occupation in 1935 — but they did represent a new
departure. In interwar Europe, nearly two million Russian and Armenian refugees
were provided with travel documents and an organization to which they could
appeal for recognition and protection of their basic rights.
The
aftermath of World War II prompted another institutional innovation, mainly to
support the victims of Nazism who had been forcibly recruited from occupied
Eastern Europe during the war. When in 1946 significant numbers — including
numerous Ukrainians, Poles and Balts — refused to return to their original
homes now firmly under Communist control, the United States, Britain and France
created an International Refugee Organization to protect and assist individuals
who claimed a “well-founded fear of persecution.” Five years later it was
replaced by the U.N.H.C.R. Together with the 1951 U.N. Refugee Convention,
which obliges signatory states not to return refugees to their country of
origin against their will, this remains the cornerstone of international
refugee protection.
It’s far
from perfect, of course. For one thing, the convention applies only to people
who have crossed an international frontier, effectively barring the internally
displaced or those who can’t leave their homes from international legal
protection. What’s more, the emphasis on persecution has led to a prohibitively
narrow interpretation of who constitutes a refugee, especially when compared to
the broader provisions of the convention adopted by the Organization of African
Unity in 1969.
In recent
years, the architecture of refugee protection has been found severely wanting.
The nearly seven million Syrians fleeing the country’s civil war, together with
close to three million Afghan refugees — not to mention Rohingya refugees from
Myanmar, refugees in Yemen, South Sudan and elsewhere — face enormous hardship
and threats to life. Not only are these people cast adrift from any substantive
institutional help but they also often disappear from the world’s media, as if
they are irredeemably remote.
This time
the response has been different. Europe has been overwhelmingly hospitable to
the Ukrainians escaping the war. European Union member states have agreed to
provide them with the right to live and work within the bloc, as well as access
to social welfare and education. This instant recognition is, of course, deeply
welcome. But it’s strikingly more generous protection than is available to
Syrian and other asylum seekers incarcerated in squalid camps in Greece.
Likewise, the warmth extended to Ukrainian refugees contrasts starkly with the
racist hostility experienced at Ukraine’s western borders by Africans and
Asians trying to escape violence.
Yet it’s
possible to spy in the outpouring of sympathy for Ukrainians an opportunity to
push for better treatment for all refugees. Can Europe’s leaders, so long at
odds over the question of migration, be persuaded to enlarge their
responsibility to safeguard the lives of people who flee violence, no matter
where they come from? Could the current crisis in Ukraine actually be a
catalyst for substantially improving the rights of refugees around the world?
These might
seem like utopian, even naïve, questions. But the history of Europe suggests
otherwise. In dire circumstances, bold and creative thinking has produced a
better, more humane world. It can happen again. Will anyone rise to the
challenge?
Peter
Gatrell (@PeterGatrell) is an emeritus professor at the University of
Manchester, England, and the author of “The Unsettling of Europe: How Migration
Reshaped a Continent.”
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