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This chapter focuses on deportation. Deportation in the archaic and classical Greek world commonly took the form of the forced removal either of a large group by their political opponents or of the entirety of the population by a foreign enemy or tyrant—a phenomenon not unlike that of ethnic cleansing today. A frequent cause was factional squabbling between supporters of democracy and those of an oligarchic persuasion. Mass deportation, albeit cruel and inhuman, functioned as a valuable safety valve in that it relieved political pressure. Ultimately, deportation is a severe test of endurance, both physical and psychological, aggravated by the fact that in many cases the deportees are forced to leave all their possessions behind them.

This chapter looks at the west European Jewish response to antisemitism. Most observers in Europe and abroad assumed that the defeat of Nazism would bring an end to anti-Jewish rhetoric and violence. Although governments expressly banned overt antisemitic propaganda, neo-fascist groups continued to demonstrate on the streets of the major cities of western Europe, scrawl graffiti on walls, and disseminate tracts. Influenced by both Jewish resistance efforts during the Holocaust and later by the military triumphs of the Yishuv and then of the new Jewish state, French activists in particular insisted upon the need for a more aggressive and assertive response in the form of new defensive political organizations. Tensions between Jews and their fellow citizens in post-war western Europe were not always overt, however. The tensions between Jewry and the larger society could be seen in such issues as the treatment of Jewish deportees and the memorialization of Holocaust victims.

In the construction of Atlantic paradigms, Africa—and its multiple intersections with both the Americas and Europe—has frequently been absent, or brought into the debate under the useful yet limited rubrics of diaspora, migration or creolization. In such configurations, the African continent typically emerges as an imagined presence for Afro-Caribbean, Afro-Latin-American or Afro-European definitions of identity. Re-engaging the Atlantic in a new direction could press us to move beyond these paradigms in which the energy driving the narrative originates in Europe or the Americas. Pursuing the turn towards a new island history of the Atlantic, this essay will address an array of links—trajectories, journeys, passages—between the islands of Cuba and Fernando Poo (today Bioko), during the second half of the nineteenth century. Fernando Poo –part of the Spanish empire since the eighteenth century— began to serve as the destination for the eastward movement of Cuban emancipated slaves, and as a prison colony for Cuban political deportees. Some of these deportees left detailed accounts of their Atlantic and African experiences. Addressing these deportee narratives, will provide a new discursive angle for critically re-locating Africa within the Atlantic, and will ask how reading the insular Caribbean from an island perspective might prove a useful disciplinary practice in the production of Atlantic knowledge.

This chapter analyzes the immigration/deportation process through the concept of social bulimia. Drawing on life history interviews with Dominican deportees conducted in the Dominican Republic and the United States during the years 2002–2010, as well as in situ field observations of deportees and archival research related to Dominican deportation and the settlement of that community, the chapter focuses on three stages of the bulimic cycle: the seduction of the American Dream, Integration, and Othering; blurred boundaries, drifting, and pathways to crime; and the vindictiveness of prison and deportation.

This chapter assesses postwar France. In one respect, the postwar moment began earlier in France than elsewhere with the gradual liberation of French soil in the summer of 1944. Alongside the Allied armies, Charles de Gaulle's Free French units and the paramilitary forces (FFI) of the Resistance helped drive out the Nazis and oust Vichy's collaborators. However, liberation of the national territory was the first of two steps necessary to make France whole again. Only the conquest of the Reich would allow the repatriation from Germany of more than two million French prisoners of war (POWs), forced laborers, and surviving concentration camp deportees. Once that was achieved, the progressive project of renewal, the “peaceful revolution” envisaged by the National Council of the Resistance (CNR) Common Program, could begin in earnest.

In this overview of Roddy Doyle’s fictional and theatrical contributions, this chapter demonstrates how Irishness is, in his work, redefined in order to include hyphenated, hybridised identities. In particular, the author explores the issue of citizenship in Doyle’s short story ‘57% Irish,’ revealing the political and ideological nuances of a text which openly vindicates the integration of the ‘new Irish’ in Ireland’s mainstream society.

Why do people leave their country of birth? In this chapter, we see that people migrate because they seek out a better life abroad and because they have the networks and resources to leave. We can’t understand international migration patterns simply by looking at poverty; we also have to consider histories of colonization; economic, political, and historical ties; and foreign policy. This chapter explores the lives of deportees before they left their countries of origin to shed light on why they left. We learn that the four countries under study here—Jamaica, the Dominican Republic, Brazil, and Guatemala—all have very close ties with the United States, and each underwent economic and social shifts due to neoliberal policies in the late 20th century. These ties and neoliberal changes work as both push and pull factors that lead migrants to leave their countries. The details of each country are distinct but they all have in common that neoliberal reforms accelerated the flows of international migrants.

This chapter examines the confounding effects of deportation. The analysis draws upon interviews conducted in El Salvador during the summer of 2008. As part of a larger project examining the experiences of 1.5 generation Salvadorans—that is, Salvadorans who migrated to the United States originally as children—researchers interviewed 41 deportees, most of whom had migrated prior to the age of 13 and had grown up in the United States. The experiences of deportees and their families are varied and complex. Some deportees adjusted successfully to life in their country of origin. Others suffered from depression and alienation, which may be exacerbated by the negative reactions of fellow citizens, discrimination, and harassment because they were perceived to be foreign, and from loss of custody and sometimes even communication with their children. Some deportees remained in El Salvador; others defied their deportation orders through unauthorized re-entry or by recreating U.S. communities on small scales in El Salvador.

This concluding chapter summarizes the major findings crosscutting the research presented in individual chapters, identifies key research themes for future studies, and initiates a conversation on how social science research can better inform immigration policy. By drawing on studies from multiple disciplines and from various sites within the United States as well as Africa, Europe, Central America, and Australia, we are better able to understand the confounding effects of immigration policies on individuals and communities, and the varied responses of immigrants. The exploration of the lived realities of immigrants, deportees, and relocated persons shows the ways in which those experiences are systematically nuanced and layered. The next step is to translate this social science research into more informed policies and practices for addressing the relationships among immigration, crime, law, and victimization. The chapter ends with suggestions both for future research and for those individuals designing and enforcing immigration policy.

Before the war was even over, the French were planning for a long period of physical and moral reconstruction after Liberation. However, the government would be faced with many pressing needs and its failure to live up to the public’s expectations would quickly lead to disillusionment. This chapter traces the transition from hope to reality by examining the establishment of policies related to housing and the restitution of items looted during the Furniture Operation. Between November 1944 and April 1945, the government issued a series of laws related to recovering lost apartments and furnishings. These early ordinances related to housing and its contents clearly reflected the republican desire to avoid categorizing the population and treated all French war victims equally. Such policies placed Jews at a disadvantage in the restitution process when competing with other groups for scarce resources.

This chapter examines Jewish communal responses to the war after Liberation and specifically to the provisional government’s ordinances related to housing and restitution. In so doing, it addresses the postwar Jewish relationship to politics and examines the expectations Jewish leaders and individuals had for their future. Jews expected to be full and equal participants in the political process of restitution and enlisted the aid of organizations to have their needs heard. Despite the wide range of specific concerns expressed by the organizations and the varied constituencies they represented, they all shared the common goal of facilitating the Jewish community’s recovery. Examining the ways in which the Jewish population participated in postwar politics allows for an exploration of the community’s engagement with issues such as justice and anti-Semitism.

In South Africa, inhumane camp conditions during the Boer War (1899–1902) had been detrimental to Britain’s standing in the world. The chapter argues that the relatively humane conditions in First World War camps were the result of a learning process. The chapter outlines public marginalization and rioting against German-owned premises in urban centres across South Africa. The internment process was first conducted through a number of temporary holding stations and, from the end of 1914, concentration and consolidation in the permanent camp, Fort Napier in Pietermaritzburg. Between September 1914 and summer 1915 the camp also held a number of deported men, women, and children from Lüderitzbucht, German Southwest Africa. Generally, women and children were not interned but suffered in equal terms because of public Germanophobia and precarious circumstances after the internment of the breadwinner. The chapter argues for a gendered perspective on internment which looks beyond the barbed wire.