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Pentecostalism began to acquire institutional form at a moment of great vulnerability and heightened xenophobia. The Great Repatriation of the 1930s leveraged almost a half-million Mexicans and Mexican Americans out of the United States. This chapter recovers the life histories of repatriated Pentecostals (Ignacio Mariscal, Isidro Pérez, and Francisco and José Avalos), whose memories of this wrenching experience are imbedded in generally positive accounts of long ministerial careers. This remarkable resilience and creativity in the face of calamity brought about an unexpected outcome, namely Pentecostalism's expansion into new regions in western (Nayarit, Jalisco, Sinaloa, Sonora) and northern (Chihuahua) Mexico, the strengthening of transnational ties, and later missionary expansion throughout the hemisphere and into Europe. Rather than acquiescing as subdued scapegoats, many repatriates recovered prerogatives of citizenship, inserting themselves into and assuming leadership in agrarian ejidos (the Revolution's chief program) and vigorously contesting the custody of temples (federal property). Taken individually and in concert, Pentecostal subaltern responsive tactics carried strategic implications and yielded important results over time.

This chapter illustrates the conditions of the Great Depression in the region and the failure of local and state governments to deal with the worst consequences of the international economic crisis. Public aid remained almost non-existent, but when it did come, local and state politicians wielded relief policies as the latest in a long line of laws meant to tilt the power in labor relations further away from workers. This chapter examines the objective conditions of life during the 1930s. Continued deportation campaigns, higher unemployment rates, and lower wages exacerbated the problems already present in previous decades. Political solutions to these problems, even during the height of New Deal reformism, proved rare and fleeting as agribusiness interests and conservative politicians maintained control of much of the state despite countervailing pressures.

The Introduction contextualizes the Armenian population in Lebanon. It distinguishes between Armenians who lived in Lebanon prior to the division of the Ottoman Empire, in the wake of the Armenian Genocide, and after the establishment of French and British mandatory rule in the Levant. In addition, it outlines the ecclesiastic, class, linguistic, and political gamut of the Armenian population in Lebanon. It analyzes how Armenians organized themselves according to the villages and centers in the Ottoman Empire that they hailed from and reformed their political ideologies, affiliations, and ecclesiastic connections resulting in the establishment of mini-enclaves within Armenian-populated neighborhoods in Lebanon. The introduction also positions the book within four fields: histories of Armenians, Lebanon, the Cold War in the Middle East, and the Diaspora Studies. The innovation of linking these fields together through the themes of identification, belonging, and articulating citizenship produces fresh readings of the time period. This intervention draws attention to experiences that established scholarship does not adequately tackle, increasing the possible ways and methods to study and approach the region, its inhabitants, and historical time frame.

Chapter 2 deals with the 1946-1949 Soviet repatriation drive to collect all worldwide Armenians and “return” them to the ASSR and, specifically, the Lebanese Armenian political-cultural understandings of it. I explore how that initiative formed a chapter of Lebanese (and other Middle Eastern) Armenians’ renegotiation of national belonging in early post-colonial times. And although about a third of all Armenian repatriates travelled via Beirut, I also look at those who remained in Lebanon and in other countries in the Middle East. The emerging Cold War was more than a backdrop to this story. Heating up, the Cold War – and the very divergent readings of, and responses to, the repatriation initiative among Lebanese Armenians – reinforced tensions between Armenian rightists and leftists. Armenians’ response to repatriation did not simply reflect their extant political-cultural positions. Rather, repatriation sharpened those positions. Responses to repatriation echoed issues on the changing Lebanese/Syrian/Armenian identity complex at the dawn of the post-colonial nation-state. The responses to repatriation included a retelling and a reconstitution of the history of the tragedy of the genocide. They also automatically triggered questions about the location and nature of the Armenian homeland, adding fuel to the division between Dashnaks and Armenian leftists.

This chapter provides complementary perspectives on the experiences of French refugees. The first is the perspective of the state and host communities in the French interior. The chapter examines the organisation of official and charitable aid and also examines the role of refugees in supporting the cultural mobilisation of the French nation for war. Originally they were welcomed as the tangible manifestations of ‘German barbarism’, but later on many faced hostility and were seen as a burden. The chapter also argues that in spite of the difficulties and disruptions posed by displacement, refugees successfully maintained communal bonds of solidarity based on the home communities they had left. French refugees were more than the passive recipients of state and charitable aid but actively engaged in managing their circumstances. Finally the chapter considers the return and resettlement of refugees after the war, the moral obligation many felt to return home and rebuild, and role played by memories and commemorations of displacement in post-war French society.

Using the legal battles surrounding care for ancestors in Hawaiˋi, Johnson queries whether a focus on the politics of religious freedom actually disenfranchises marginalized groups whose religious practices have long been considered suspect by the mainstream.

Growing up in my family, we were taught that education was the solution (or one of the most important solutions) to many problems. So, it is not so surprising that I once believed something that many still believe—that education about archaeology will result in better public understanding of what we do, and some level of agreement vis-à-vis the value of archaeology. After experiencing that this long-held belief (or perhaps more accurately, hope) was not always true, I realized the obvious fact that someone can be educated on a topic and still disagree with you. Education does not guarantee agreement with the educator (see Goldstein and Kintigh 1990 for another discussion of this point regarding human remains and mortuary sites). In other words, there is not a single truth, especially on this topic. This is certainly not to argue against education, it is just a reminder about realities. For this volume, Giles and Williams invited eighteen papers from archaeologists who have struggled with a wide range of topics associated with the intersection of mortuary archaeology, public archaeology, and contemporary society. This intersection provides the space and the opportunity for examination of problems and issues that are often not raised in discussions of archaeology or public archaeology or contemporary society alone. The breadth, depth, and diversity of perspectives presented in this volume are both fascinating and enlightening. The chapters are often self-reflexive and attempt to be fair, looking at multiple sides of very complex issues. Museums, governments, news media, and other archaeologists would be wise to carefully read these papers. As an American archaeologist who conducts archaeology in the USA, I find the case studies especially important and relevant since most of the examples are not constrained by the kinds of post-colonial circumstances that exist in the USA and countries like Australia (this is not to say that there are not other constraints in the case studies). At a minimum, these papers represent a different set of perspectives on problems with which all archaeologists and museum professionals have struggled. The volume is unusual because the authors do not simply state their opinions and present certain facts; they use a variety of tools to try to determine what happened, how public opinion may be measured, and how decisions are made.

Australia’s trials ended in April 1951, and just a few months later in September, the San Francisco Peace Treaty signalled that the Occupation would end the following year and Japan would return to the international community. A nationwide petition movement in Japan began calling for the repatriation of war criminals who had been convicted by Allied courts and resided in overseas prisons, such as some of those convicted by Australia who were now imprisoned on Manus Island. Meanwhile, other war criminals who were convicted by Australian courts resided in Sugamo Prison in Tokyo, and the Japanese government was bound by Article 11 of the peace treaty to keep them in prison until the convicting country allowed their release. Article 11 was not enough to reassure the Australian government that the Japanese would respect the decisions handed down in its war crimes courts, however, and this made the government anxious over repatriating the war criminals on Manus. In Japan, the petition movement began to pressure the Japanese government and the Australian embassy for the return of these prisoners.

This essay offers an overview of the El Museo del Norte, a community/university partnership with the goal of establishing a “museum without walls” in Detroit, Michigan. The essay provides some background on the genesis and development of the museum project, as well as it’s scholarly, pedagogical and community goals. Beyond offering a narrative of the project, the essay also engages with some of the conceptual, methodological, and personal questions that shape such public humanities initiatives. As such, it offers a meditation on the challenges and productive tensions that arise when our scholarship and teaching engages with modes of knowledge production that exceed the boundaries of the classroom or the library.

Chapter Four observes the evacuees’ environment as they fought to be allowed to return to Hong Kong and made the largely unassisted transition from pre-evacuation Colony to the difficulties (real and perceived) of life in Australia. They now had the social position of refugees. The eighteen months of separation before the Japanese attack meant families were immediately under strain - at the Hong Kong and Australian ends. The pressure on evacuated families was greater than on those not evacuated, added to by the continuing sense of injustice that many of the latter had deliberately evaded evacuation. The Hong Kong evacuees’ experience is contextualised through comparison with American civilians in the Philippines who were not evacuated and would eventually fare far worse. The vain hope for repatriation to Hong Kong delayed acclimatisation to Australia for many – though now more families realised that they could regain control of their destinies, by the evacuees themselves leaving Australia or by husbands who had been left behind leaving Hong Kong. Meanwhile, demonstrations and petitions calling for repatriation of the evacuees to Hong Kong grew to a crescendo.

Chapter Six argues that the five years elapsed time from arrival in Australia till war’s end transformed the evacuation, for approximately half of those involved, into a permanent though initially involuntary migration. For some women their newly forced independence opened fresh horizons and catapulted them into better lives, often continuing without those husbands (either due to war deaths or post-war separations, the latter typically sparked by husbands’ and wives’ different experiences in those years). Children growing up in Australia also found new opportunities which return to post-war British austerity could not match. When families reunited at war’s end, many stayed in Australia, others fragmented, and some returned to Hong Kong or the UK - but many of these later decided to return to Australia. Essentially – for all its grandiose claims of facilitating the defence of the Colony, and actual aims of preventing loss of civilian life - the only long-term effect of the evacuation had been the accidental and unplanned establishment of a unique ‘lost tribe’; a significant segment of today’s Australian population being descended from the garrison and business community of 1940 Hong Kong.

This chapter discusses how the Native American Graves Protection and Repatriation Act and similar law shape religious claims and then conduce to misrecognition of the same. NAGPRA hearings both legally authorize and provide the occasion for the performance of Hawai'ian genealogies in hearings contesting ownership of sacred objects. Law is both complicit in the legitimizing of Hawai'ian religion and limited in its power to shape that religion in the ways it would like. This chapter notes that Hawai'ian political and religious actors competitively and creatively work and rework both their received traditions and emerging ones in the legal spaces provided by state and federal law.

This chapter explores the concept of contemporary rock-art making as a form of repatriation. According to Blackfoot culture the making of rock art is considered a sacred act that involves communication with the spirit world. Current policies help protect existing, tangible rock art, but at the expense of continuing the intangible heritage of communicating with the spirit world. Writing-on-Stone Provincial Park is in the process of creating a new policy which would allow the making of contemporary rock art in a traditional sense.

Outlines the reactions of the French authorities, press and public to the refugees’ arrival in France. Although some French nationals reacted with gestures of solidarity, the refugees faced a considerable level of discrimination and pressure to return to Spain. The most visible sign of exclusion existed on the beaches of the French Mediterranean where close to two hundred thousand refugees were penned into sprawling ‘concentration’ camps. The remaining refugees, mostly women, children and the elderly, were housed in reception centres elsewhere in France where conditions were often very basic. Comparisons are drawn between the reductive and scaremongering reporting of the Spanish refugees by much of the French press, and French officials’ descriptions of refugees arriving in their localities. The chapter reveals how French officials mobilised cultural difference in order to secure the exclusion and return of the refugees to Spain.

The enactment of the Native American Graves Protection and Repatriation Act (NAGPRA) is a powerful tool that in theory affords tribes greater opportunity to bring their ancestors home to rest. Implementation is a different issue. The bulk of the NAGPRA workload undertaken by the Tribe is completed by the THPO bioarchaeologist who works within the collections section. The bioarchaeologist provides an interface between individual institutions and the THPO by protecting the broader Tribal community from having to deal directly with an issue not culturally appropriate for discussion. Because of the subject matter, the bioarchaeologist must prepare information sufficient for the NAGPRA Committee while staying within culturally appropriate parameters to encourage input from the designated spiritual advisors within the Tribal community.

As a region bordering the Russian Empire, East Prussia was (apart from Alsace-Lorraine) the only part of the German Empire to be directly affected by the military operations of the First World War. The refugee crisis in 1914 found everyone totally unprepared. In August 1914 two distinct waves of forced migration took place: in the first, the population fled westwards before returning to their homes in 1916. The second wave concerned Germans who were seized by Russian occupying forces and forcibly settled in the Russian interior. Their repatriation was complicated by the Russian revolution and the ensuing civil war. This chapter discusses the experiences of these two groups, attempts to assist them and how population displacement was represented by contemporaries.