Uprooted and Unwanted : Bosnian Refugees in Austria and the United States [1 ed.] 9781603446556, 9781585444120

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UPROOTED AND UNWANTED

Eugenia and Hugh M. Stewart ’26 Series on Eastern Europe

Stjepan Mesˇtrovi´c, General Editor Series Editorial Board Norman Cigar Bronislaw Misztal Sabrina P. Ramet Vladimir Shlapentokh Keith Tester

UPROOTED & UNWANTED BOSNIAN REFUGEES IN AUSTRIA AND THE UNITED STATES Barbara Franz

Texas A&M University Press College Station

Copyright © 2005 by Barbara Franz Manufactured in the United States of America All rights reserved First edition The paper used in this book meets the minimum requirements of the American National Standard for Permanence of Paper for Printed Library Materials, Z39.48–1984. Binding materials have been chosen for durability. o Library of Congress-in-Publication Data Franz, Barbara, 1968– Uprooted and unwanted : Bosnian refugees in Austria and the United States / Barbara Franz.— 1st ed. p. cm. — (Eugenia and Hugh M. Stewart ’26 series on Eastern Europe) Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 1-58544-412-X (cloth : alk. paper) 1. Bosnian Americans—NewYork (State)—New York—Social conditions. 2. Bosnians—Austria—Vienna—Social conditions. 3. Refugees—New York (State)— New York—Social conditions. 4. Refugees—Austria—Vienna—Social conditions. 5. Yugoslav War, 1991–1995—Refugees. 6. New York (N.Y.)—Social conditions. 7. Vienna (Austria)—Social conditions. 8. New York (N.Y.)—Ethnic relations. 9. Vienna (Austria)—Ethnic relations. I. Title. II. Series F128.9.B675F73 2005 949.703'086'914—dc22 2004017990

For Iskra, Mersiha, Amina, Jasmina, Selma, Azra, Faketa, Zlata, Nedzmjia, Zeljaka, Hasa, Ertana, Mersada, Ajka, and all the women of Bosnia and Herzegovina in the diaspora and at home

Contents

Acknowledgments Introduction

ix 3

Chapters 1. International Economic and Political Involvement in the War in Bosnia and Herzegovina

13

2. Bosnian Refugees and Changes in Asylum Law in the European Union, Austria, and the United States

28

3. Residence and Initial Problems in Austria and the United States

47

4. Settlement Realities for Bosnians in Vienna and New York City

71

5. Bosnian Women’s Social Position in the Former Yugoslavia

95

6. American Nativism, Patriotism, and Nationalism

113

7. Austrian Identity Formation vis-à-vis the Foreigner on the “Island of the Blessed”

127

Conclusion Notes Bibliography Index

140 149 173 201

Acknowledgments

WRITING AND PREPARING this book was a grassroots endeavor in and of itself. There are many dozen of women (and men), both in Europe and the United States, to thank for their support and encouragement. First I wish to thank all the Bosnian women and men who opened their homes and hearts to me, and who shared their experiences, frustrations, and successes with me. I am also very grateful to the faculty of the Government and Economics Departments at St. Lawrence University who encouraged, advised, and supported me in so many ways throughout the last year. I am very much in debt to Patty Ashlaw and Judy van Kennen for their open ears and minds, their reassurances and affection when the work got tough. In addition, my thanks go in particular to Judy van Kennen for designing and reproducing the maps. Many thanks also go to Betsy, Teresa, July, Marlene, Bonnie, Marianne, Nancy, Carol and all the other Long Distance Ladies of Canton, New York, who kept my mind focused (and my body in shape) during the editing process. I want to thank Ralph Ketcham, Jim Bennett, Beverly Allen, and Peter Castro who read an earlier version of this work, raised many important questions and provided many helpful suggestions. I am in debt to Jim Sadkovich and Stephanie George of Texas A&M University Press for their trust in this project and help with the editing stages of this book. David Hoskins I thank for his patience and dedicated support throughout the years while this project took shape and form. But most importantly, I could not have written this book without the trust and friendship of a large number of Bosnian women and men in Vienna and New York City. To them I owe my most profound gratitude. I will continue to cherish their bountiful friendship forever.

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UPROOTED AND UNWANTED

Introduction

“TO ADAPT TO LIFE here was more excruciating than to live through the war in Brcˇko,” said the young Bosnian refugee with sincere conviction. She might have been referring to the difficulties of finding a decent job, her life in the tiny apartment with no running water, the hardships of getting by on very little money, or her experience with xenophobic natives. Her experience as a refugee in the wealthy North/West, however, was by no means unique. Her statement represents a realization quite common among Bosnian refugees who settled in Austria or the United States. In Uprooted and Unwanted I analyze the plight of Bosnian refugees in two large cities, one in Austria and one in the United States, in a sociopolitically increasingly exclusivist environment. I examine the socioeconomic adaptation mechanisms Bosnian refugee men and women use to adjust in Vienna’s and New York’s host environments. The Bosnians’ flight and adaptation were affected by host countries’ shifts in their refugee and asylum policies from a focus on resettling refugees in third countries to a focus on containing refugees in areas close to the conflict. A comparison of Bosnian refugee settlement in Vienna and New York City is important and timely for several reasons. Little research has been done on the conditions of the more than two million Bosnian refugees in Europe and other countries. Moreover, few scholarly works compare the interaction during settlement between the structural factors in host societies and the sociocultural variables of the refugee community. Even rarer are studies exploring how refugees themselves perceived their adaptation to host societies with strikingly dissimilar settlement policies. The purpose of my research is to fill this void and to provide, through a comparative analysis, insights into both the sociopolitical and economic settlement processes of Bosnian refugees in Austria and the United States and the agency of individual Bosnian men and women in these processes.1

Introduction

Furthermore, while the North/West is turning from refugee resettlement to exclusion, the number of refugees and displaced people has been rising worldwide. According to Refugees by Numbers:  Edition, the number of persons of concern for the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) rose from 17.2 million in 1991 to 27.4 million in 1995 to approximately 22.3 million by January 1, 1998. By January 1, 2003, about 20.5 million persons had fled their areas of origin because of environmental disasters, wars, or other violent conflicts.2 Women accounted for approximately 80 percent of this number. This hidden face of the new world order—huge displaced populations of women and children—clearly shows the urgent need for appropriate refugee-relief schemes and settlement policies. My research explores the predicament of a growing and marginalized segment of the world’s population. Austria granted the vast majority of Bosnian refugees temporary protection status (TPS) instead of the political asylum of the 1951 United Nations Convention relating to the Status of Refugees (1951 Convention), initially denying them the legal right to work or to travel freely. In addition, many Austrians viewed the newcomers from the Balkans as a threat to their national culture. A standing tradition of inequality, entrenched in political and social institutions, continues in the limited legal status of foreign nationals in Austria. Austria’s asylum and refugee policies, however, are representative of those found throughout the European Union (EU). In contrast, the U.S. government granted Bosnians refugee status and provided an extensive resettlement program with a wide variety of services. The Bosnians in New York City were spared most of the racist sentiments that are expressed toward non-European refugees such as Haitians. U.S. resettlement policies, however, have largely focused on fast economic integration rather than on other issues of immediate concern to newcomers. I examine Bosnian settlement within the context of each country’s past and present refugee policies and practices and also provide a historical framework (in the last two chapters) of the nations’ identity formations vis-à-vis foreigners. The arguments that I present in this work are based on the study of Bosnian refugee communities in Vienna and New York City. The two countries of settlement are in significant respects different, and I analyze, from a sociopolitical and comparative point of view, the processes of integration of newly arrived refugees into these two different societies. Chapter 1 focuses on the Bosnian War, international involvement, and the plight of millions of refugees as a result of the violence in the Balkans. Western Europe feared a “flood of refugees” and quickly began to enact asylum and migration restrictions. The macroanalytical part of this study (chapters 2, 3, 6, and 7) explores the relationship between the interests of states and those of refugees. Hence, I describe how international and national politics and policies influence Bosnian refugees’ livelihood strategies. I focus on how European, in particular Austrian, and U.S. asylum and refugee policies and practices shape the immediate —4—

Introduction

and longer-term adaptation of refugees. In chapters 6 and 7, I explain the American and Austrian identity formations, both of which arose vis-à-vis a particular set of ideas and stereotypes of foreigners. In chapter 6, I take the analysis beyond the original time frame of this research project to include post–September 11 social and political developments because they clearly signified the underlying historical features of the American identity. Within the historical and contemporary contexts, I explore the political and legal influences upon the individual by including the perspectives and experiences of the Bosnian refugees themselves in Austria and America.3 In the microanalyses of chapters 4 and 5, I examine the mechanisms and strategies that Bosnian refugees, especially women, used to adapt to official policies and administrative practices in their host societies. Furthermore, I seek to explain why Bosnian women and men adapted differently to the distinct challenges of integration in Vienna and New York, aiming to broaden our understanding of the agency of refugee women and men in their daily strategies to pursue a livelihood in settlement. Included in this discussion are the different adaptation methods and networks that Bosnians created in the receiving societies (chapter 4), which bridges the findings in the microanalysis with the wider macroanalytical social and political structures that the refugees faced in the receiving society. Östen Wahlbeck points out that analyses of how refugees adapt to life in receiving societies often seem to assume that the integration of refugees into the wider society depends on the refugees’ own social and cultural resources, or even on their own choices about whether or not to adapt.4 Indeed, literature in immigration and refugee studies tends to emphasize the importance of assumed cultural differences and possible conflicts in the processes of integration. During my fieldwork, however, it soon became clear to me that Bosnian refugees were eager to integrate into the wider society. I found that the biggest impediments to the integration of the refugees were by no means associated with their own “cultural baggage.” Factors like unemployment, low-skill jobs, social isolation, discrimination, and xenophobia played far bigger roles in integration than is usually thought to be true. In the refugee-resettlement discourse, it is commonly assumed that refugees have lost everything they had and that, in a way, these “uprooted” people have to start their lives all over again. This approach does not acknowledge that refugees may in fact have their own resources and social networks upon resettlement. Instead of being individuals completely torn from their social settings, refugees, Wahlbeck has shown, are able to retain, at least to some extent, premigration social organizations and networks.5 Almost immediately upon arrival in the receiving society, a substantial number of refugees in my sample were able to contact compatriots, friends, and relatives. Refugees are independent actors and interact both with their country of origin and with the structures and policies of the receiving society. There is also a continuous interaction between the structure of the settlement country and —5—

Introduction

the agency of the refugees. I assume that social networks in the host society are at least as influential in refugee-adaptation processes as are state-directed refugee policies.

Theoretical Framework: From Protection to Containment estern Europe and the United States quickly responded to the “new refugee crises” of the post–Cold War world with new, restrictive asylum and refugee policies. Attentive observers have long noticed that UNHCR concepts in the post–Cold War era—such as in-country protection, preventive protection, the right to remain, and TPS—coupled with ideas such as safe havens or safe zones have been used to legitimize the idea of containment among the organization’s powerful donor countries. For example, the use of rape, in the context of the “ethnic cleansing” in the Balkan wars, was deemed a war crime, and lawsuits have been filed on behalf of raped women. Yet, at the same time, raped Bosnian women have been excluded from full protection under the Refugee Convention by Austrian and other European Union governments.6 Peter Nyers, B. S. Chimni, Gervase Coles, and other refugee-studies scholars have demonstrated that liberal democracies in the Western world increasingly seek protection from rather than provide protection for refugees on the basis that people fleeing civil wars or other crises are different from the traditional Convention (or political) refugees.7 As one of the few authors recognizing the lack of historical perspective in this popular argument, Claudena Skan argues that refugee movements are an enduring and persistent rather than a new post–World War II or post–Cold War phenomenon. Skan writes, “The notion that the contemporary refugee crisis is unique lacks a historical perspective and neglects this important fact: mass refugee movements are neither new nor exclusive to specific regions. They have been an enduring and global issue throughout the twentieth century.”8 The changes in world politics following the end of the Cold War, however, disrupted the direct causal and ideological link between Cold War foreign-policy concerns and refugee policies. Instead of serving as a means to score ideological successes against the Eastern bloc, according to Jacqueline Bhabha, contemporary refugees are increasingly perceived as “loopholes” in immigration-control procedures and as “costs”— with no countervailing benefit—of the postwar human-rights era.9 As the absolute numbers of asylum applicants in the North/West rose from the 1980s onward and as the proportion of people leaving destitute developing countries relative to industrialized ones increased, policies of refugee deterrence and exclusion became political aspects of liberal democracies. One of the foci of this book is the use of TPS for the forcefully displaced Bosnians and Herzegovinians in Western European countries. TPS represents one of the newer policies to repatriate refugees to country of origin rather

W

—6—

Introduction

than incorporate them into country of settlement. The German government, for example, provided TPS for approximately 350,000 Bosnians between 1992 and 1996 and ascribed their legal status as Duldung (literally, “enduring”). Austria accepted roughly a hundred thousand Bosnians, but the government considered them de facto refugees, which meant that they did not receive the same economic and social support that Convention refugees received. For both countries, the refugees’ repatriation to Bosnia was the most desirable solution. With TPS, the increasing use of repatriation as the preferred solution to refugee crises began to legitimize involuntary repatriation. The German—in numerous cases forceful—repatriation of Bosnian refugees that began in 1996 stands out as an infamous border case. The proposed solutions to refugee crises have taken a dramatic turn in the last couple of decades, replacing what Alexander Aleinikoff calls “exilic bias” with a “source control bias.” He thus recognizes that the current international orientation focuses on the countries of origin and supports repatriation and human-rights monitoring after the return. Ultimately, Aleinikoff warns that “source control bias” could turn into containment of migration rather than improvement in refugee protection. His 1995 warning came too late for Bosnian refugees, especially in European countries. Between 1912 and 1969 nearly fifty million Europeans sought refuge abroad and all of them were resettled, according to Michael Marrus; at present, however, resettlement is proposed for only 1 percent of the world’s refugees. Today, it is clear that resettlement has been replaced by (in)voluntary repatriation as the ideal solution to refugee crises.10

Bosnian Refugees in Austria and the United States: A Comparative Field Study ational comparisons of refugee policies and adaptation mechanisms are rare in the fields of international relations, comparative politics, and refugee studies.11 In my study, I combined a focus on the receiving society’s structures with the focus on refugee agency to provide both a macro- and microanalytical perspective on refugee settlement in two countries. This approach enabled me to link states’ policies with the individual refugee’s experience. The vast majority of the world’s refugees are women. Many scholars in area studies and women’s studies have focused on the role and experience of women. Mirjana Morokvasic, in her analysis of female Yugoslav guest-workers in Europe, finds, for example, that women are victims of an “asymmetric power distribution” in Gastarbeiter (guest-worker) families and host societies. She concludes that gender inequality in the arriving group remains largely what it was before the migration process.12 Morokvasic and others use a toostatic model of gender relations and do not take into account the structural premises of the receiving societies. My study aims to demonstrate that, as a

N

—7—

Introduction

reaction to the structural confinements of the Austrian relief scheme and refugee policies, Bosnian refugee women sought and held jobs, albeit in lowpaying industries, sooner than Bosnian men did, and that, therefore, changes in gender relations occurred within their group. This was not the case in New York City because the Bosnian refugees of my U.S. sample did not need to respond to such a structurally restrictive system. The structures of the receiving society thus do matter for refugees in resettlement. In chapters 4 and 5, I also search for the underlying reasons why Bosnian women, even after obtaining and successfully holding jobs, refuse to see themselves as emancipated women but rather identify with the traditional category of motherhood. I realized that the vast majority of Bosnian women in my sample had heard arguments of emancipation and liberation through wage labor (which is the preponderant focus of Western liberal feminist writings on refugee and migrant women) from the Yugoslav state-centered Socialist Party machine for decades. In chapter 5, I examine one historical explanation for this anti-emancipatory sentiment by concentrating on Bosnian women’s and men’s older, traditional self-images as wives and mothers, and husbands and fathers, and on the concept of “machismo.”

Two Resettlement Schemes hile the United States resettled more than a hundred thousand Bosnians as Convention refugees between 1993 and 2000, Austria, like most Western European countries, did not admit the vast majority of Bosnians as Convention refugees.13 Austria, however, accepted Bosnians as temporary, or de facto, refugees in 1992. TPS was granted as Convention asylum was denied and, in fact, became its substitute. TPS subsequently released the Austrian state from fulfilling its financial and social responsibilities toward the more than one hundred thousand Bosnian refugees who entered the country during the war. Furthermore, the existing regime of work permits for non-EU immigrants restricted the employed noncitizen severely and offered only limited job opportunities for Bosnian refugees. Their de facto status forced most of them to seek employment on the black labor market, severely constrained their residence and travel rights, and, when they finally were granted work permits, created a “refugee proletariat” for low-skill industries. The black labor market’s particular demands encouraged the early employment of women rather than men in Austria. Thus, the residence and integration experience of Bosnians in Austria was influenced by economic and structural restrictions, most importantly the prohibition against working, while similar restraints were absent in the resettlement experience of Bosnians in the United States. However, with its relief scheme, the Bund-Länder Aktion, Austria provided its Bosnian refugee population with social services and benefits that, while minimal, were nonexistent in the United States.

W

—8—

Introduction

The Austrian legal- and political-protection mechanism of TPS stands in strong contrast to the U.S. refugee-resettlement schemes for Bosnian nationals. Traditionally focused on family reunification, the American refugeeprocessing categories generously included a wide variety of Bosnian nationals. During the 1980s and 1990s there was, however, a general and overall decline in federal support for civil-rights and social-policy legislation and initiatives in the United States, including policies to alleviate and generally address poverty. In contrast, the welfare state in Austria continued to determine social welfare and public policies. Uwe Wenzel and Mathias Bös emphasize that as a consequence of the 1996 welfare legislation in the United States about half a million legal immigrants no longer qualified for food stamps, Medicaid, Aid to Families with Dependent Children, or Supplementary Security Income. At the same time, however, the United States made extraordinary progress in dismantling discrimination in employment, housing, and other spheres of social and economic life. Unlike Austria, the United States encourages ethnic and racial diversity and the participation of women, and it expects ethnic minorities to delineate and clearly articulate their particular needs, influence social policy, and develop their own political strategies and long-term initiatives.14 Nevertheless, many of the economic and structural challenges that Bosnian refugees faced in the two societies were quite similar. Refugee resettlement agencies sought to place Bosnians in the job market in the United States, a service not provided in Austria. Instead, Bosnian refugees in Austria, especially women, used older Yugoslav guest-worker networks to find jobs, initially in the black market. The only year-round jobs offered on the black labor market, housekeeping and tourist-industry positions, were filled mostly by female Bosnians. I show that while job placements in the United States resulted in employment for both Bosnian men and women, the particular Austrian situation led, in my samples, to a substantially higher female than male participation in the labor market. However, Bosnians engaged in the same kinds of menial jobs in both countries.

Guiding Considerations ased on the precondition that Austrian and American state actions toward displaced people differ greatly, my guiding question is how these countries’ policies influence the adaptation processes of Bosnian refugees. I investigate the following questions in detail:

B •

The U.S. and Austrian refugee populations demonstrate markedly similar processes of socioeconomic adaptation even though the two states’ refugee policies differ. Despite such policy differences, why are economic conditions strikingly similar in both countries for Bosnian refugees, whose employment in both societies generally represents a decline in status? —9—

Introduction

•

•

•

Despite the economic and social discrimination they experience in Austria, refugees adopt similar livelihood strategies in both societies. What adaptation mechanisms did Bosnian refugees use to adjust to the host societies and to integrate in their new neighborhood communities? Even though Bosnian refugees desire and actively seek Austrian citizenship, they are frequently not accepted as equal citizens; instead they are labeled Ausländer (foreigners). By contrast, Bosnians who apply for citizenship in the United States are more likely to be welcomed as full citizens. They hold a more privileged social position in the United States because they fit into the dominant racial group (unlike most Latin American or African refugees in the United States, for example). How did these differences in the host societies influence the Bosnians’ adjustment? What intergroup factors within the wider expatriate communities facilitated and/or inhibited the Bosnian refugees’ successful adaptation? Were ethnicity and religion the most influential criteria in the ongoing integration? Or, to what extent did other variables, such as class and gender, matter?

I will investigate these questions with first, an analysis of current refugeepolicy trends in two of the world’s wealthiest countries to show that there is underway a general shift in refugee policies from protection to exclusion; second, an examination of how refugee policies influence individual male and female Bosnian refugees; and, third, an integration of these findings in a historical analysis of the host societies’ identity formations vis-à-vis immigrants and refugees.

Methodology he arguments presented in this study are based on a comparative study of the Bosnian refugee communities in Austria and the United States. The fieldwork was carried out in Vienna from December, 1998, to April, 1999, and in New York City from May to October, 1999. Ethnographic fieldresearch methodology enabled me to look at the people in my sample as subjects in their own right instead of as mere dependent variables ruled by the social structure. This is not to say that structures do not exist. In the field of refugee studies it is obvious that social structures, such as economic inequalities, racist ideologies, and asylum and reception policies, play very significant roles. In Vienna, I interviewed thirteen Bosnian refugee women and five men living in private accommodations, and eight refugee women who were living in a camp at the time of the interviews. In New York City, I interviewed eleven refugee women and nine men. For a detailed age distribution, see table 1. These otherwise repetitive semi- or unstructured qualitative interviews were largely open-ended.

T

— 10 —

Introduction

Table 1 Age Distribution BOSNIAN INTERVIEWEES IN VIENNA Age range

Individuals interviewed

18–30 31–40 41–50 51–70

5 9 4 8

BOSNIAN INTERVIEWEES IN NEW YORK CITY Age range

Individuals interviewed

18–30 31–40 41–50 51–70

5 8 5 2

The methodology of this research presupposes that the research process is a continuous interaction between the researcher and the researched, with the researcher trying to understand the latter’s point of view. In most cases I therefore conducted multiple interviews with the refugees to gain a fuller sense of their attitudes, adaptations, and aspirations. I used semi- and unstructured interviews because they restrain the respondents least while still providing detailed information for later analysis. My goal in the interviews was to gain a broad understanding of the refugees’ social situation, experiences, and problems in their countries of settlement. The selection of interviewees was initially based on contacts that I had established with members of the refugee communities in each research site. Also, I endeavored to select a sample representative of the Bosnian refugee community as a whole for each area and included refugees from each ethnic group in my samples. The sample, however, cannot be seen as statistically representative of the Bosnian refugee communities in the United States and Austria. Furthermore, the sample is of course to an even lesser degree representative of the population in Bosnia. Representativeness does not illuminate the major social processes involved in the refugee communities. These processes, as Wahlbeck convincingly states, are best studied in comprehensive case studies.15 — 11 —

Introduction

Because I investigated the role of social structures and the majority society, relational context guarantees that the refugees are not defined as “problems.” At the same time, I sought to avoid any victimization of the minority by emphasizing and illustrating that they are also actors with agency in this process. While interviewing refugees I listened “in stereo,” as Kathryn Anderson and Dana Jack have called it, receiving both the dominant and muted channels, tuning into them carefully to understand the relationship between them.16 With this work, I contribute to the growing body of work that attempts to displace the focus of international relations from its current emphasis on statecentric structures and international policies to a “lower” level that addresses refugees’ situations from the refugees’ perspectives. I contribute to the increasing body of knowledge about what Christopher Hill has called “International Relations and the voice from below,” or what R. B. J. Walker defines as the “exploration on the margins” of international relations.17 Finally, I delineate the powerful processes at work in the tight spaces between international or state politics and individual adaptations or reactions to these policies. In essence, my work focuses on how international and state political trends influence refugees’ livelihood strategies and what mechanisms newcomers develop to survive in state-directed structures.

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CHAPTER 1

International Economic and Political Involvement in the War in Bosnia and Herzegovina

Our Land Everywhere from Brod to Mostar, Our folk are vanquished, Vanquished or exiled, And scattered around the world. Until yesterday, we lived together, Sharing all, both the good and the bad. Now they banish us From Bosnia, from our own land. —Sanita Isovicˇ, refugee in Germany

IT IS NOT POSSIBLE to understand the plight of millions of Bosnian refugees without an overview of the Bosnian War (1992–95) and the dire economic and political circumstances that led to it. Most of the Bosnian refugees interviewed for this work lost close relatives and friends and/or their homes, or fought in the war. Some were harassed, molested, raped, and imprisoned during the war. Others, in search of protection and security, fled and left their belongings behind. The Bosnian War changed their lives forever. During their settlement in other countries, Bosnian refugees began to develop new selfperceptions, based on their lives in Bosnia, their war experiences, and their new location. Since settlement, Bosnian refugees have defined themselves primarily as Bosnians, (former) Yugoslav citizens, and Europeans. Many believe that they were robbed of their lives and livelihoods and that their Western and democratic neighbors passively watched while Bosnia and Herzegovina was destroyed. Some of them have repeatedly referred to themselves as “Europe’s

Chapter 1

Palestinians”—a people with no home or place to live, who were driven from their homeland by a vicious aggressor, and whose plight was largely ignored by the Northern/Western powers. By focusing on international involvement in the war I will provide in this chapter a short economic and political synopsis of the war itself and demonstrate that the refugees’ characterization of their situation is to a degree justified. Between 1992 and 1995, approximately 2.2 million Bosnians were expelled from their homes as one consequence of the war: 1.2 million settled in European or other countries, and 1 million remained in Bosnia but were displaced. In the 1991 Yugoslav census the population of Bosnia and Herzegovina totaled 4.3 million, of whom 43.7 percent were Bosnian Muslims, 31.3 percent Bosnian Serbs, 17.3 percent Bosnian Croats, and 7.7 percent other groups (map 1). According to some observers, few war expellees have returned home since December, 1995, when the Dayton Peace Agreement was signed.1 The repatriation program of the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) accounted for an estimated 360,700 refugees and 321,700 internally displaced persons returning to their homes in Bosnia as of 1998. In 2000 it was estimated that five hundred thousand to one million Bosnians still needed protection or housing. A January, 2000, U.S. Department of State fact sheet reported more than 195,000 Bosnian refugees in Western Europe and another 300,000 in the former Yugoslavia who did not yet have durable solutions. José Fischel de Andrade and Nicole Barbara Delaney, however, argue that there were still 306,000 Bosnians without a durable solution in foreign countries and 793,000 displaced persons within Bosnia’s borders in 2000. By the end of 2002 the U.S. Committee for Refugees counted 121,000 Orthodox Bosnians who remained in the former Yugoslavia without durable solutions. In May of 2004 the UNHCR estimated that there were more than 99,000 Bosnian refugees among the more than 514,000 people of concern in Serbia and Montenegro. More than 3,600 Bosnian refugees were located in Croatia, and more than 323,000 Bosnians were internally displaced in Bosnia (map 2). The international community’s efforts to keep refugees in and close to their areas of origin throughout the Balkan wars were largely successful and resulted in prolonging the refugees’ displacement.2

Economic Bases of International Failure in Yugoslavia emographic changes and the refugee dilemma are key aspects of the disastrous history of the Yugoslav secession wars. These wars, including the Bosnian War, need to be framed primarily in light of the economic dismantling of the former Yugoslavia in the 1980s. The policies of the North/West and specifically of the international lending institutions, the International Monetary Fund (IMF) and World Bank, generated the social and economic preconditions for the explosive ethno-political conflict. Susan Woodward

D

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— 15 —

International Economic and Political Involvement

explains that “the conflict is not a result of historical animosities and it is not a return to the pre-Communist past; it is the result of transforming a Socialist society to a market economy and democracy. A critical element of this failure was economic decline, caused largely by a programme intended to resolve a foreign debt crisis. More than a decade of austerity and declining living standards corroded the social fabric and the rights and securities that individuals and families had come to rely on.”3 The austerity measures, which traditionally accompany economic-stabilization programs designed by the IMF and the World Bank, provided the groundwork for socioeconomic suffering and desperation, which in turn exacerbated inter-republican rivalries and ethnonationalist scapegoating and animosities.

Yugoslavia’s Economic Struggle Throughout the 1960s and 1970s Yugoslavia had the highest standard of living of any Socialist country. It was not unusual for Yugoslavs to own cars and holiday beach homes. The same appliances found in U.S. homes—TVs, VCRs, washing machines—were common. Even in 2000, small TV-satellite dishes were visible on many houses, even those that were burned out. Bosnia and Herzegovina, however, ranked second to the Republic of Macedonia as the poorest republic in the former federation. Although agriculture was almost entirely in private hands, the republic has traditionally been a net importer of food. Industry was greatly overstaffed, a reflection of the Socialist economic structure of Yugoslavia. Tito had pushed the development of military industries in the republic, resulting in Bosnia’s hosting a large share of Yugoslavia’s defense plants. The increasing corruption, graft, and black-market activity that historically concerns the World Bank and other sponsors had their origins in the inflation-ridden post-Tito 1980s. A rapid decline in Yugoslavia’s economy became obvious in the early 1980s as the country struggled to meet payments to the IMF for industrialization loans contracted during the 1940s and 1950s. With much local intellectual and political backing—including the support of one-time bank director and neoliberal Slobodan Milosˇevic´—Yugoslavia adopted an IMF-guided stabilization program implemented in a stop-and-go fashion in the 1980s. The program attempted to improve the country’s trade balance by reducing internal demand. Food subsidies were dropped in 1982; the prices for gasoline, heating fuel, food, and transportation rose by onethird. Because the government froze investment, infrastructural spending, and social services, family income fell to a twenty-year low. By 1985 the social product was 5.5 percent smaller than it had been in 1979. Inflation reached 88 percent in 1986, more than 100 percent in 1987, 175 percent in 1988, and almost 300 percent in 1989. As a result of the IMF program, unemployment rose to an average of 14 percent (with unemployment in Bosnia and in parts of Serbia, including Belgrade, at 23 percent); real wages fell by 41 percent in the first — 17 —

Chapter 1

six months of 1990.4 In this economic collapse Yugoslavs became disillusioned with state policies. Increasing corruption and black-market activities as well as a new, exclusivist ethno-political discourse became characteristic of the eroding values of self-management.5 Discussing the widespread trend of equating success with black-market activity and corruption in the Yugoslav republics in the 1980s, one of my informants describes the general socioeconomic situation and pars pro toto his illegal activities in a January 24, 2000, e-mail message: I am a college dropout. . . . I did smuggling with gypsies (I would get off the international train before the Austrian-Yugoslav border and board a local train, because all the gypsy smugglers did that, and the border police were busy harassing them but they never touched white, Caucasian me—pretty much like going over the Mexican-U.S. border here (hehehe), selling foreign currency on the black market, taking parts of motorcycles and clothes from stores in Germany, writing bad checks and similar stuff. Yeah, it was the part of Yugo-glamour, that’s why I completely understand why Arkan is celebrated like a folk hero. You remember when inflation was like 2000% a year and you could have a power checking account with like 1800% APR in one republic; you could cash a check in another republic in the third republic’s bank, and that check would post to your account three weeks later. In the meantime you would gain interest on the cash that you have already spent, or, if you were smart—“reinvested”? I bought a color TV, a computer, an answering machine, etc. like that. A friend of mine who was vice president of [a] large Croatian bank at the time bought herself a car just doing that. . . . That was all way before sanctions and even before Milosˇevic´ came to power, and [it] wasn’t in Serbia (although I loved to cash my checks in Beobanka in Ljubljana—Milosˇevic´’s Beobanka was absolutely the slowest . . . ). I was so angry when Markovicˇ killed the inflation that I moved to the U.S., hahaha. Milosˇevic´ was even angrier so he just printed more money and killed Markovicˇ’s reforms. The stabilization programs resulted in economic misery for large masses of citizens, but some people managed to get by or even gain much wealth in these times of instability. James Petras and Steve Vieux point out that to diminish black-market activity the IMF also sought to promote political and institutional reforms that it considered necessary for the long-term economic health of the country. These proposals, the authors insist, shaped the conflict between the political factions of Yugoslavia, accelerating the trend toward political breakup and war. The IMF argued that a full-fledged market economy required a powerful central bank to set monetary policy in a unified domestic market in which labor, — 18 —

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credit, and commodities circulated freely. According to Petras and Vieux, the IMF also insisted that federal decision making be consolidated at the expense of the old-style consensual policy making among the republics. The consequence of IMF policy, thus, was to undermine the complex “balancing act” of the Tito period, which had attempted to lessen inequalities between republics and peoples by means of subsidies and federal aid for troubled industries.6 The economic misery resulting from the stabilization efforts instigated by the lending politics of Northern/Western institutions contributed to the Yugoslav secession wars. It made large numbers of disillusioned citizens available for political mobilization. Desperate Yugoslavs became discontent with the League of Communists in Yugoslavia (LCY), which complied unconditionally with the lending policies. Petras and Vieux argue that demagogues such as Slobodan Milosˇevic´ and Franjo Tudjman, arising from the ranks of the LCY, were able to tap into popular anger over the austerity measures and channel it for their own ethno-nationalist purposes. The authors emphasize: “The demonstrations of Serbians in 1987–88 which Milosˇevic´ directed against the autonomous status of Voyvodina and Kosovo had in the beginning a powerful anti-austerity charge.”7 Thus, popular pressure had been carefully fostered and molded into an organized Serb-nationalist crusade by the new leader of the Serbian Communists, Milosˇevic´, who was able to replace old apparatchiks with his own supporters. Noel Malcolm argues that “what Milosˇevic´ had done was to hijack the genuine discontentments of ordinary Voyvodinans and Montenegrins—including some frustration with the whole Communist system as such—and put it to his own use.”8 Under the IMF program, more than six hundred thousand workers out of a workforce of 2.7 million were laid off in 1990 alone.9 This led to a sociopolitical instability that paved the way for new nationalist demagogues to assume power. The Northern/Western economic policies promoted in Yugoslavia in the 1980s encouraged the economic and social preconditions for war in the 1990s.

Bosnian Self-Understanding and the War The stabilization measures affected the Bosnian population as much as other groups in Yugoslavia. Many Bosnians, in particular Bosnian Muslims, however, believed for a long time that Bosnia and Herzegovina would successfully resist ethno-nationalist exclusivist trends. For them, the republic stood out as the one successful example of true multiculturalism and interethnic harmony in Yugoslavia and perhaps anywhere in Europe. It was not by chance that more than 239,000 Bosnians classified themselves as “Yugoslavs” rather than Muslims, Serbs, or Croats in the 1991 countrywide census. Moreover, widespread marriage across ethno-religious communities, especially in urban communities, indicated the wide acceptance of multiculturalism in the multiethnic republic. Mark Thompson suggests that 27 percent of all marriages in Bosnia and Herzegovina before the war were between people of different ethno-religious — 19 —

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backgrounds.10 Many Bosnians thus felt that Bosnia—sometimes referred to as “little Yugoslavia”—had accomplished what Yugoslavia had set out to be: a truly multiethnic society. Without exception, Bosnians (including Bosnian Croats and Serbs) who I interviewed expressed their surprise and shock about the outbreak of the Bosnian War in 1992. The thirty-two-year-old Bosnian Muslim Samir, who lived through the attack of Bijeljina, describes his experience:11 I left my home [in Bijeljina] overnight. It was a planned raid. There were no fights, but it was conducted rather like a maneuver. I realized much later that paramilitary troops were involved. . . . During the wars in Slovenia and Croatia, I believed that such a war would never be possible in Bosnia. I was naive. I saw how armed Serbs strolled through the streets but could not believe it. On April 1, at 5 a.m. in the morning I heard shells exploding and still thought it could be an army maneuver. Then I saw my neighbors wearing masks to camouflage their faces. I was disappointed because they were people I had played soccer with throughout my youth. Fighting was going on for four or five days but the city was not destroyed, as was, for example, Zvornik. At this point only the Serbs could move around the city freely. The paramilitary troops began to clean up the city but by this time, at the end of April, many people had already left. There were rumors that many people had died. However, according to official statistics, 45 Muslims and 5 Orthodox were killed. People who were wealthy, according to surveillance information, were the first to be killed. Later, politically influential people were killed. . . . Beginning in August private homes were systematically destroyed. Until July 1 it was not a problem to go to Serbia. I worked in a power plant and had to go to work [to support his son and wife who was studying for her doctorate in medicine at Belgrade University]. I saw how people left me cynical notes, the pressure increased, and I realized that fewer and fewer Muslims came to work. I got an anonymous call on June 25. The caller told me that if I continued to work I would be killed. I, however, still thought nothing would happen to me because I am married to an Orthodox woman. I felt like the “last Mohican.” Soon I had to stay at home because the power station was closed down. I left my apartment and stayed with my parents. . . . I was disappointed in the JNA [Yugoslav People’s Army] because I once was a part of this army. It was no longer the people’s army although everybody had to pay for it as well as for the police. I increasingly had the feeling that I could no longer protect myself, not even with a knife. My neighbors had automatic weapons in their houses at this point. My parents tried to make us children leave. I went to visit my wife in Belgrade in the middle of June. When I came back — 20 —

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my apartment was boarded up by the authorities. After my wife returned we got the apartment back. At this point, a friend of mine was killed, and I had heard that even people in mixed marriages were killed or sent to the front. I finally left [Bijeljina] for Belgrade. Samir managed to cross the border to Serbia at the beginning of July and stayed with his wife in Belgrade for five days. The situation there was by no means better for Muslims than in Bijeljina. There were police raids, and he heard that people were pulled from buses and sent directly to the front. Thus, he left for Vienna, Austria, on July 12, 1992, leaving his wife and son in Belgrade and his parents in Bijeljina. His family remained on two different sides of the front for the next three years. Samir, like many Bosnians, understood himself to be a Yugoslav citizen and European first. He explains, “I lived in Yugoslavia, worked [as an engineer] in a number of Asian and other countries throughout my life, but I understood myself as being a modern European.”

Prelude to the Bosnian War: European Recognition of Independent Slovenia and Croatia In the 1991 Slovenian war of independence or “Ten-Day War,” the United States and Great Britain supported the Serb nationalists who sought to keep Yugoslavia united. Some observers argue that, at that point, the idea of a unified, stable, non-Communist Yugoslav state under U.S.—rather than Russian—direction appealed to Washington.12 In September, 1991, to stem the fighting, the U. N. Security Council imposed an arms embargo against all of the former Yugoslavia. The secretary general also launched a mediation effort through former U.S. secretary of state Cyrus Vance, which led to a cease-fire agreement in Croatia in early 1992 and the deployment of the first U. N. peacekeepers during January of 1992. One appealing feature of this outcome, according to some observers, would have been the emergence of a central governmental authority responsible for repaying outstanding international debts. The American scheme, however, fell victim to European—or, more precisely, inner-European Union (EU)— power politics. The British government abandoned its opposition to diplomatic recognition of Croatia and Slovenia under German pressure in mid-December, 1991, in exchange for German support for the British right to opt out of the European Monetary Union and the Social Charter of the Maastricht Treaty. Thus, on January 15, 1992, as mediation efforts proceeded, the European Community (now the European Union) under the leadership of Germany and after considerable internal debate, decided to recognize Croatia’s and Slovenia’s independence. Austria, then seeking EU membership, immediately followed with its recognition of Slovenia and Croatia. The Europeans, however, recognized Croatia without providing any guarantees to the — 21 —

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Serbs there, and by so doing handed Serbian nationalists and extremists a powerful mobilizing issue.13 Like Slovenia and Croatia, Bosnia and Herzegovina applied to the EU for recognition as an independent state. The EU, however, adjourned that decision. A referendum, meant to speed EU recognition, was held on February 28 and March 1, 1992. Croats and Muslims voted overwhelmingly for independence and sovereignty, but because the referendum was boycotted by Bosnian Serbs, the positive vote of 99 percent involved only about 62 percent of the electorate. Therefore, Bosnia and Herzegovina had to take another route to recognition. In mid-March, EU-sponsored negotiations between the three ethnic groups ended with an agreement on the future constitution of an independent republic of Bosnia and Herzegovina. This accord facilitated recognition by EU member states and the United States on April 6 and 7, 1992.14 In response to continued Serb aggression, the U. N. Security Council imposed economic sanctions on Serbia at the end of May. By then, the fighting had already started in Bosnia and, within days, Bosnian Serb militia, backed by paramilitary forces from Serbia, had seized vast areas. Bosnian Serbs, who comprised 31 percent of the Bosnian population, were in control of more than 60 percent of the country’s territory.15

War in Bosnia: U. N. Failures and U.S. Power Games s the human-rights and humanitarian crisis escalated, the U. N. Security Council voted to send peacekeepers to Bosnia to facilitate the delivery of humanitarian relief. To help assure the safety of humanitarian operations, it imposed a “no-fly zone” over Bosnia in October, 1992. Only in April, 1993, did NATO begin to enforce that zone. In May, 1993, the U. N. declared Sarajevo and five other Muslim enclaves “safe areas” under U. N. protection. In June, 1993, NATO declared its readiness to respond with air strikes, in coordination with the U. N., in the event that U. N. safe areas came under siege. This decision temporarily ended the strangulation of Sarajevo, which had been under siege since spring 1992. Thus, a pattern developed: U. N. policies needed NATO support to be implemented efficiently, but that support was provided at the beginning of the war only halfheartedly and reluctantly.16 While the Vance-Owen negotiations about the division of Bosnia and Herzegovina into ten provinces according to rival ethnic populations dragged on, the United States began to advocate quite a different stance. The Clinton administration openly rejected the Vance-Owen Plan in early February, 1993. Thomas Friedman of the New York Times noted that “the Bosnian Serbs and the Bosnian Croats have signaled their willingness to accept the plan. Bosnia’s Muslims, led by President Alija Izetbegovicˇ, are resisting it because they believe that Washington will soon offer a better deal.” David Owen remarked that “we cannot get the Muslims on board. That is largely the fault of the

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Americans, because the Muslims won’t budge while they think Washington may come into it on their side any day now.”17 While the Bosnian Muslim leadership hoped that U.S. engagement would result in an enhanced outcome for them, the conflict continued and the number of military and civilian atrocities increased.

Ethnic Cleansing and Other Atrocities of the Warring Parties In August, 1992, Serbian officials were still maintaining that there were only Bosnian Serb internment or POW camps and not concentration camps. It was later revealed that in a number of places such as Prijedor, Brcˇko, and Bratunac, there had been orgies of murders, and “real psychopaths were rampaging across the countryside indulging in cruel, bizarre and sadistic killings.”18 Several years after the event, Tim Judah recognizes that the accounts of the survivors of the “cleansing” of Kozarac and the tortures of Omarska, Brcˇko (where bodies were disposed of in an animal-feed plant), and Keraterm make grim reading. Kozarac was a town of some twenty thousand people, mostly Muslims, located on the road between Banja Luka and Prijedor. To permit Serbian freedom of movement there, Serbs subjugated the area. At the end of May, 1992, Serb police, army units, and militia troops surrounded Kozarac, pounded it with artillery, and then interned most of the population. It was one of the single largest cleansing operations until Srebrenica fell in July, 1995. The U. N.-appointed Commission of Experts compiled a catalog of thousands of pages of documents on the atrocities that occurred during the wars in Croatia and Bosnia and has archives of individual testimonies of survivors of some of the worst incidents.19 The following excerpt about the testimony of survivors of Omarska is typical of its dry prose: One subject reported that each night the guards at the camp would select 10–20 prisoners, beat them up, and then shoot them with pistols. He said that on the following morning, the [surviving] prisoners would have to get up early to load the bodies on a “Combi” truck. The subject was not sure where the bodies were taken. Another subject estimated that on many occasions, 20–40 prisoners were killed at night by “knife, hammer and burning.” He stated that he had witnessed the killing of one prisoner by seven guards who poured petrol on him, set him on fire and struck him upon the head with a hammer. The subject reported that there were about 100 such killings at the camp. He stated that the intelligentsia of the camp were selected first for killing.20 Most refugees in my sample who had been imprisoned began their narrative with their camp experiences or emphasized the effect of the trauma of imprisonment. The imprisonment cast a lasting shadow over their lives. The — 23 —

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thirty-two-year-old Bosnian Muslim Enes from Sarajevo, for example, who was imprisoned and tortured in a Serb concentration camp, begins the story of his life with this detailed description:“I was imprisoned by a Serb paramilitary group for four months. They picked me up in the street in April 1992. The first day was the hardest. Five or six of them beat me up until I passed out. They put me in a car trunk and took me to a courthouse at Vrca, on a hill over Sarajevo. In the beginning when I realized they took me away I thought: ‘I am dead.’ Then I became lethargic. You feel the pain but you don’t care. They played with a knife around my eyes and asked me which one they should take. They asked me about guns and who fights against them. I didn’t tell them. I would not have told them even if I had known.” After Enes had endured tortures by the group of Serb paramilitaries, he was brought to the “Palais” where he was locked in a room with about four hundred other prisoners from areas surrounding Sarajevo. He continues, “We had no room to sit or sleep, and worst of all we could not go to the bathroom. This was the biggest problem. We got one piece of bread and one-third of a sardine every three days. I lost 15 kilos right away.” Enes lost two of his fingers on his right hand from the tortures, but the deepest wounds of his experience are mental and emotional. He concludes his account of the concentration camp with the statement: “Many things happened. I cannot tell everything.” In spring 1993 war erupted between the Muslims and the Croats in Bosnia. Croatian forces took control of western Herzegovina, including the city of Mostar, which was inhabited by a Muslim majority. Croatian artillery bombed the city, destroying much of it, including the landmark white stone bridge. Muslims in the city were isolated from food and other supplies. Croats were quick to erect detention camps for both Serbs and Muslims in the Mostar, Cˇapljina, and Stolac areas. Some observers have noted that the abuses in these camps resembled those that had been perpetrated by Bosnian Serb forces in the Omarska and Keraterm camps a year earlier. Moreover, the largest ethnic-cleansing operation, involving the greatest numbers of refugees, was carried out by the Croatian military in August, 1995. More than 150,000 Serbs in the Krajina region of Croatia were forced to flee their homes. Atrocities against civilians were also committed by Bosnian Muslims, for example in the Travnik and Vitez areas, although they got relatively little media attention. At the time, Ivana Nizich noted that “Bosnian government forces and Muslim paramilitary groups have summarily executed Serbian and Croatian civilians and prisoners of war.”21 In the later stages of the conflict the United States stopped supporting the Serb central government and threw its weight behind the weakest of the ethnic competitors, the Bosnian Muslims. Petras and Vieux note that Bosnian Muslims had the “least political leverage but the most ‘moral capital’” because of their vulnerability to attacks by Serb and Croat forces. The U.S. media engaged in an extensive publication campaign to publicize the atrocities com— 24 —

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mitted against its Bosnian Muslim “client victims.” To be sure, while the war devastated each of the three most populous minority groups in the territory, the Muslims were hurt the worst.22 The Serbs were branded as the aggressors, and some analysts even identified them as the “successors to the Nazis.” Of course, on a much smaller and less dramatic scale, Serbian villages that fell behind enemy lines were cleansed, too, although the government side had at least publicly pledged to support a multiethnic Bosnia. Likewise, Serbs were tortured by Croats and Muslims and Muslims were tortured by Croats, but it was never possible, after the enormity of the crimes committed by Serbian groups, to get this message across. While the atrocities against Serbs and Croats were seldom if ever reported in the Northern/Western media, the U.S. media in particular focused on the suffering of the Bosnian Muslims almost exclusively. The generous American resettlement policy for Bosnian Muslims in the latter half of the 1990s is one result of the U.S. engagement on the Bosnian Muslim side of the conflict.

NATO’s Inconsistent Policies After the marketplace explosion in Sarajevo in February, 1994, NATO demanded that the Serbs remove their artillery from around Sarajevo. While the Serbs complied, shelling of other safe areas continued and was not punished. Thus, NATO’s inconsistent policies allowed the continuation of civilian massacres in other so-called safe areas, which quickly became some of the most dangerous places on earth. In early 1994, with U. N.-EU diplomatic efforts stalled over territorial issues, the U.S. began actively encouraging a settlement. In March, 1994, U.S. mediation produced an agreement between the Bosnian government, Bosnian Croats, and the government of Croatia to establish a federation between Muslims and Croats in Bosnia. Fighting between the two sides ceased and did not resume. In April, 1994, NATO employed its first air strikes against Bosnian Serb forces to halt a Serb attack on the eastern enclave and U. N. safe area of Goradz e. The United States, Russia, Britain, France, and Germany established a five-nation contact group, with the goal of brokering a settlement between the federation and the Bosnian Serbs. But in late 1994 fighting erupted between the Bosnian government, antigovernment Muslims in Bihacˇ (with the support of Krajina Serbs), and Bosnian Serbs. NATO responded by expanding the range of air strikes into Serb-controlled Croatia. In December, 1994, with the help of former president Jimmy Carter, the sides agreed to a four-month cessation of hostilities. When the period expired, fighting resumed, and in May, 1995, Bosnian Serb forces began renewed attacks on Sarajevo and began threatening Srebrenica.23 The climax of the war in Bosnia in summer 1995 occurred as both sides explored their options following the U. N.’s loss of all authority to control — 25 —

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events. In July, 1995, Serbian forces defied the U. N. and overran two safe areas in eastern Bosnia: Srebrenica and Žepa. Some of the worst ethnic cleansing of the war occurred at this time: as many as eight thousand Muslims were massacred under the direct supervision of Ratko Mladicˇ, the Bosnian Serb commanding general. It is possible that the ineffective record of U. N. and Western action in 1994 led the Bosnian Serbs to expect no Western response; the West did respond, but reluctantly. Radovan Karadz ic´ and Mladic´ were indicted as war criminals by a U. N. tribunal in July, 1995, and Britain, France, and the United States began planning military action to respond to future attacks on safe areas. The United Nations withdrew peacekeepers in exposed areas, additional forces arrived, and its civilian representatives lost the right to veto the use of force.24 When Serb forces from Bosnia and Krajina attacked the Bihacˇ safe area, they were counterattacked by joint Bosnian Muslim, Croat, and Croatian government forces. Within a few days, the Serbs lost all of Krajina and much of western Bosnia: 130,000 people fled from lands that had been occupied by Serbs for hundreds of years. When angry Serbs shelled Sarajevo again, killing thirty-seven people in one incident, NATO reacted with an unprecedented wave of air strikes against the Bosnian Serb infrastructure. The Muslim and Croat advance appears to have stopped only because the West told them to do so: by then, the Croat-Muslim Federation was in control of just over half of Bosnia. Milosˇevic´ failed to intervene, and the Bosnian Serbs found themselves alone and vulnerable.25

The U.S.-Negotiated Peace In spring 1995, Bosnian Serb forces responded to NATO air strikes by taking more than 350 U. N. peacekeepers hostage. Serbia intervened to help negotiate the release of hostages. In response to the fall of the safe areas of Srebrenica and Žepa, President Clinton insisted in July, 1995, that NATO and the U. N. make good on their commitment to protect the remaining safe areas. The Allies agreed at the London Conference on July 21 and threatened broad-based air strikes if the safe areas were attacked again. When the Bosnian Serbs tested this ultimatum, NATO undertook an intensive month-long bombing campaign. In late July, President Clinton decided that the changes on the ground and NATO’s new resolve supported an all-out diplomatic effort to end the conflict. In early August, he sent his national security advisor, Anthony Lake, to present a U.S. peace initiative to NATO allies and the Russians.26 In the peace initiative by the contact group, arranged by the United States, Russia, France, Germany, and Great Britain, the U.S. policy continued to lead the Muslims to believe that by resisting European policy suggestions they would get U.S. support to improve their position. Bosnian Muslims, however, never got more than indirect aid via Turkey, Saudi Arabia, and other Muslim states, which was enough to keep the war going but not enough to win. Af— 26 —

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ter tens of thousands of deaths, however, Bosnia finally accepted the U.S.brokered Dayton Agreement for de facto partitioning of the country. The Serbs got more territory under Dayton than they would have gotten under the Vance-Owen Plan.27 One result of the infamous U.S. negotiation pattern, however, remained until 2000: the rather generous resettlement policy for Bosnians.28 In short, what began as economic and political efforts of the North/West and of internal forces to undermine communism in Yugoslavia led to ethnonationalist battling over geographical regions. As Petras and Vieux argue:“The turn from Karl Marx to Adam Smith led to a Hobbesian world where, in the name of abstract nations, national disintegration became the disorder of the day. That is the larger meaning of the West’s destruction of Tito’s multi-ethnic nation-state.”29 Many Bosnian citizens felt that the economic-stabilization programs and later the political and military efforts of the democratic North/West to intervene and stop the war—into which Bosnia was yanked—were halfhearted efforts without consistency. Moreover, one could claim that the war and the inconsistent Northern/Western policies were only one arbitrary consequence of the international powers’ original objective to subordinate the Balkan peoples to global capitalism.

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CHAPTER 2

Bosnian Refugees and Changes in Asylum Law in the European Union, Austria, and the United States

There remain two kinds of rats, the hungry and the full: the full ones remain happily at home; the hungry ones emigrate. . . . Oh no, they are almost there [author’s translation]. —Heinrich Heine, “Die Wanderratten”

THE WEST’S preferred solution for post–Cold War refugee “crises” is no longer the resettlement of refugees in third countries but rather their exclusion or their repatriation to their countries of origin. Repatriation is one aspect of a wider range of the restrictive policies in refugee and asylum issues in both the European Union (EU) and the United States. Other recent policies focus on excluding refugees from access to host territories through, for example, “safe havens,” “internal-flight alternatives,” and “safe-third-countries” clauses. Furthermore, some states introduced new interpretations of the 1951 Convention (e.g., pursuing a narrow definition of “agents of persecution”) and new removal procedures for asylum seekers prior to merit hearings. The arguments behind this shift are based upon the inclination to see the current refugee “wave” as unprecedented in modern history. This assumption, widely held by policy makers and academics, is historically inaccurate. Current policies toward refugees in the North/West are thus curiously based upon the construction of, in Benedict Anderson’s terms, a certain “imagined” history by Western democracies.1 In this chapter, I describe these new requirements for refugees—including the concepts of safe third country and safe country of origin—and the U.S. interdiction program, as well as the European trend, initiated in the 1990s, to

Bosnian Refugees and Changes in Asylum Law

limit the scope of existing legal instruments, mainly the 1951 Convention, through redefinitions of “refugee.” Democratization in Eastern Europe and the emergence of a general perception of the region as safe for refugees provided Western European governments with an incentive for formalizing policies regarding safe third countries. However, an objective system of burden sharing that could offer an alternative to state responsibility for asylum seekers whose situation is the result of accidents of geography alone was never seriously considered. Instead, a de facto system of burden shifting through safethird-country or safe-country-of-origin clauses is taking hold that lacks adequate guarantees to those needing protection.2 The new temporary protection status (TPS) resulted directly from attempts to limit the scope and accessibility of the 1951 Convention for Bosnian refugees. (TPS, as the preferred protection mechanism for Bosnian refugees in Austria, and the access of Bosnian nationals to the U.S. refugee-resettlement program are the foci of chapter 3.) While Europe’s policy of exclusion is well documented and researched, few international observers have noted that the United States similarly restricted its refugee program throughout the 1990s, especially with the 1996 Illegal Immigration Reform and Immigration Responsibility Act (IIRIRA). In this chapter I point out some similarities in refugee and asylum policies in the EU, in Austria, and in the United States, including both the structural procedures to ensure rigid selection and the consequences for refugees. This comparison attempts to fill the void in refugee studies’ predominantly national coverage of refugee phenomena. EU, Austrian, and U.S. asylum admissions illustrate a restrictive and excluding policy approach toward asylum seekers and refugees in the North/West.

Harmonization of Refugee Policies in the EU he process of the “harmonization” of EU laws is, in essence, political. In the fields of immigration and asylum it is closely linked to completion of the internal market and elimination of border controls within the EU. Informal intergovernmental cooperation, or the harmonization of immigration and asylum policies, has been underway for more than a decade. Like the formal agreements, it has most often sought the lowest-common-denominator position to maintain and extend barriers rather than search for a new and more liberal stance. Founded in 1985, the Ad Hoc Group on Immigration and Asylum initially addressed asylum-related issues and policies. This group assisted in drafting the Dublin Convention, which was signed in June, 1990, and has been in force since September, 1997. The Convention attempts to harmonize member states’ asylum policies so that asylum seekers are required to make their application in only one state.3 Since the Treaty on the European Union went into force in November,

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1993, EU member states have been involved in formal intergovernmental cooperation to harmonize elements of their asylum policies. The overall results have been influenced mostly by attempts to devise an adequate response system to the growing numbers of asylum applicants in EU member states in the 1990s (table 2). The decrease in applications filed since 1993 is based in part upon new legislation that, quickly enacted, restricted access to territory and refugee-status determination procedures for many asylum seekers. The increasingly restrictive measures that exclude potential refugees from the host countries’ territories are based upon governments’ and international humanitarian organizations’ narrow interpretations of humanitarian laws rather than upon the defiance of those laws. Restrictive interpretations of international humanitarian tools, such as the 1951 Convention, are possible because of existing loopholes in the humanitarian legal system of the late twentieth and early twenty-first centuries, a system that has little binding force for states to begin with. For immigration and asylum policies, individual states, rather than the European Commission, Parliament, or Justice and Home Affairs Council, remain the main designers of an increasingly exclusivist European harmonization. Moreover, in the fields of migration and asylum policies, governments play the roles of lawmaker and judge in addition to that of the executive power. This “triple role of government” has enabled individual states to develop legal requirements limiting the responsibility of the state toward asylum seekers.4

Bosnian Refugees and Exclusivist European Laws Despite the spring 1992 pleas of the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees to ease the refugees’ plight, the general unwillingness of Western European states to admit more Bosnian nationals had determined their asylum policy by summer 1992. Germany and Switzerland had introduced visa requirements in April, 1992. Denmark followed in May; Slovenia in early July; Sweden, the Netherlands, Luxembourg, Belgium, and Finland soon afterward; and Great Britain in November, 1992. Hundreds of Bosnians arrived in Western Europe in 1992 with passports newly issued in Belgrade (the capital of Serbia, which, according to UNHCR estimates, at that point hosted more than 1.1 million refugees).5 The issuance of new passports for Bosnian Muslims was commonly perceived as an indication that Serbia was actively engaged in deportations. Serbia’s expulsion of Bosnian Muslims thus justified, for policy makers, restricting Bosnian refugees’ access to EU territory. The EU and others in the international community argued that they were not willing to support Serbia’s deportations by admitting refugees to their territories. The refugees consequently became the victims not only of Serbia’s expulsion but also of the Western world’s exclusion. Many fewer than 1.1 million Bosnian refugees (approximately four hundred thousand) had arrived in European countries by mid-July, 1992. Nevertheless, — 30 —

Table 2: Resettled Refugees and Asylum Applications Received in the EU (1989–2000)

Refugees Resettled 1989 1990 1991 1992 1993 1994 1995 1996 1997 1998 1999 2000

4,070 4,100 4,060 5,810 5,710 12,630 5,180 3,570 2,500 2,420 1,630 n/a

Total:

51,680

Asylum Claims Received 282,860 388,220 484,090 667,770 510,780 300,340 263,660 226,120 242,710 291,220 334,447 220,957 4,213,174

Recognized 28,230 28,360 35,580 30,900 43,740 44,890 45,800 44,100 38,610 29,050 32,730 n/a 401,990

Rejected 141,680 237,300 277,270 278,570 476,190 349,200 199,180 234,510 192,140 209,120 191,250 n/a 2,786,410

Sources: UNHCR, Statistics—1998 Statistical Overview—Table V.1 “Asylum Applications Submitted in Selected Countries,” http://www.unhcr.ch/statist/98overview/tab5_1.htm.; UNHCR, Statistics—1999 Statistical Overview, “Refugees and Others of Concern to UNHCR,” http://www.unhcr.ch/statist/99oview/tab401.pdf; UNHCR, Registration and Statistical Unit Programme Coordination Section, “Asylum Applications Submitted in Europe and North America, January–November 2000,” http://www.unhcr.ch/statist /0009asy.pdf; UNHCR, Refugees and Others of Concern for UNHCR—1999 Statistical Overview (Table VI.2), “Monthly Asylum Applications by Country of Asylum, 1999,” http://www.unhcr.ch/statist/99oview/tab602.pdf; UNHCR, Refugees and Others of Concern for UNHCR—1999 Statistical Overview (Table V.3), “Recognition of AsylumSeekers under the 1951 Convention in Selected Countries, 1980–89,” http://www.unhcr.ch /statist/99oview/tab503.pdf; UNHCR, Refugees and Others of Concern for UNHCR— 1999 Statistical Overview (Table V.4), “Recognition of Asylum-Seekers under the 1951 Convention in Selected Countries, 1990–99,” http://www.unhcr.ch/statist/99oview /tab504.pdf; UNHCR, Refugees and Others of Concern for UNHCR—1999 Statistical Overview (Table V.7), “Rejection of Asylum Applicants in Selected Countries, 1980–89,” http://www.unhcr.ch/statist/99oview/tab507.pdf; and UNHCR, Refugees and Others of Concern for UNHCR—1999 Statistical Overview (Table V.8), “Rejection of Asylum Applicants in Selected Countries, 1990–99,” http://www.unhcr.ch/statist/99oview/tab508.pdf.

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fear of an approaching “refugee wave” spread throughout Western Europe. Politicians and the media began to argue that the war expellees would inflict unbearable financial responsibilities upon their host societies. For example, Bavaria’s interior minister warned in the Independent that “if we open the border today, tomorrow we could have 700,000, 800,000 or 900,000 refugees.”6 Many European countries, some of which had had liberal refugee policies, enacted more restrictive measures in asylum matters in the 1990s. For example, Denmark, which is one of ten resettlement countries worldwide, in 1998 amended its Alien Act of 1983 after a xenophobic election campaign in which refugees and asylum issues figured prominently. As a result of this amendment, asylum seekers had to substantiate an individual fear of persecution to be granted de facto status. No longer did generally poor conditions, including civil wars in countries of origin, constitute grounds for that status. The amended law furthermore restricted family reunification and allowed for the expulsion of Convention refugees who served a prison sentence of four or more years. Additionally, it instituted a “bread-and-water” method—a direct result of the Dublin Convention and the safe-third-country clause—to induce asylum seekers to cooperate with Danish authorities to establish travel route and identity. Refugees frequently “forgot” their travel route and identity to avoid expulsion based on safe-third-country or safe-country-of-origin clauses. Refugees refusing to provide identity and travel-route information could be deprived of their monthly allowance and would then receive only bags of food. Rejected asylum seekers who failed to leave Denmark would be sanctioned. The U.S. Committee for Refugees (USCR), however, questioned the success of the bread-and-water methods by emphasizing that “only seven asylum seekers became more cooperative after a period of ‘bread and water.’”7 With the new Alien Act, implemented in July 2002, Denmark has enacted one of the strictest asylum laws in the world. The law introduces accelerated procedures for the determination of asylum claims; it authorizes the detention of asylum seekers who committed minor felonies, such as shoplifting, or who gave incorrect information concerning their identity to the authorities; and it prohibits refugees from traveling back to their home countries. The Danish asylum law is but one example of how national legislation has been influenced by international trends seeking to restrict refugee movements. The safe-third-country clause limits the responsibility of each state toward the asylum seeker. Puntervold Bo argues that the legal concept was “invented” by states to exclude refugees arriving from certain countries from the asylum procedures.8 Asylum seekers must apply for asylum in the first country in which they arrive, even if they are in transit to another country. Western European states have declared that countries that sign international human-rights declarations can be considered safe under the terms of the 1951 Convention.9 The list of safe countries—the so-called White List—included, in the late-1990s, Pakistan, India, Cyprus, Ghana, and Bulgaria. When potential refugees arrive — 32 —

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from a safe third country they are not allowed a merit hearing to establish their claim. Instead, they are sent back to the third country without any guarantees from the latter about whether they will be regarded as asylum seekers or merely as travelers without valid travel documents. Thus, the safe-third-country clause constitutes another manifestation of the exclusivist attitude toward refugees and asylum seekers in Europe. In combination with the personal-target and the state-agent-as-persecutor requirements, the safe-third-country clause provides states with a range of methods to deflect refugees.

Temporary Residence versus Convention Status in Austria: A New Refugee Status n spring 1992, Austrian officials feared that the country would soon be flooded with Bosnian refugees. No clearly established judicial or administrative guidelines existed for processing thousands of refugees, and government officials soon began to implement legal measures that would make it impossible for Bosnian refugees to receive political asylum (Convention refugee status) in Austria. The state issued numerous ordinances about the residence status of Bosnian War expellees that frequently resulted in the inconsistent treatment of Bosnian refugees. The Bundesasylamt (Federal Asylum Office) rejected Bosnian asylum applications if the applicants could not demonstrate their fear of individual persecution; if they could, this office argued that their persecutors were private groups rather than state-related institutions and dismissed their claims. The Austrian government thus circumvented responsibility for Bosnian refugees by using the roles of the lawmaker, judge, and prosecutor to pass and enforce restrictive alien and asylum legislation.

I

Entry and Asylum in Austria: Vague Legal Status Aided Refugees . . . At First In early summer 1992 Austria’s interior minister stated that “we could find room maybe for one more trainload, but what about the second, third, and the 10th train?” The trainloads did keep coming. Samir, the Bosnian Muslim from Bijeljina, arrived by train in Vienna on July 13, 1992. After his arrival, a policeman asked him, “Why are you in Vienna?” Samir answered that he wanted to “go to Germany,” which apparently satisfied the police. This was, for Samir, the entire examination by the Fremdenpolizei (branch of the police dealing with aliens), which was in charge of the initial registration of Bosnian war expellees. Like many other Bosnians, Samir came without a visa and stated that he would continue his journey to Germany (which in reality he had not planned to undertake because he wanted to stay with his sister in Ober St.Veit). At that time Bosnian expellees arrived en masse at Vienna’s train stations, and there were no orderly refugee-processing procedures. Between — 33 —

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April and August, 1992, more than thirty thousand Bosnian refugees entered Austria.10 While numerous other European countries quickly enacted visa requirements for Bosnian nationals, Austria did not, and Bosnian refugees benefited from the legally unclear situation for former Yugoslavian areas. Until November, 1992, the Austrian government granted Bosnians admission by pragmatically continuing to apply the 1965 Austrian-Yugoslav Agreement on Visa Policies. It was uncertain at that time whether the obligations of international law were assumed by the newly formed states of the former Yugoslavia. The bilateral agreement permitted visa-free entry into Austria for three months, after which time Austrian authorities—by interpreting the legal provision generously—granted a three-month extension. By the end of 1992 they had introduced several restrictions, through internal ordinances of the Ministry for the Interior, that progressively limited entry into Austria. Until the government enacted the 1992 Residence Law in 1993, it continued to grant admission and residence under the provisions of the 1968 Asylum Law, the Passport Law, and the Law of the Alien’s Branch of Police.11 Paragraph 12 of the 1992 Residence Law enables the federal government to pass decrees “during times of heightened international tension, armed conflict or other circumstances that endanger the safety of entire population groups, . . . and to order that directly affected groups of aliens who can find no protection elsewhere shall be accorded a temporary right of residence in the federal territory.”12 The state could provide temporary residence for Bosnians for as long as it deemed necessary. Other 1993 restrictions, however, included ordinances stating that Bosnians needed valid travel documents, sufficient financial means, and, by April, 1995, a visa to enter Austrian territory. For Bosnians, it was very difficult to obtain any of the required documents. Throughout the war, the Austrian Ministry for the Interior, however, continued to keep a door open for Bosnian refugees. Through sometimes confusing decrees, it seemed to have sought to ensure the entry of most Bosnians seeking refuge in Austria. Thus, in the first half of the 1990s, it seems Austria adopted a rather Janusfaced approach to Bosnian refugee admissions: Although the government began to restrict entry through the enactment of a number of ordinances, it kept the door open for Bosnians entering Austria on humanitarian grounds. With this approach, however, the government offered arbitrarily inconsistent responses to Bosnian nationals. For example, a number of Bosnians in my Austrian sample entered and remained in the country after having spent months in Croatian refugee camps; some explained that their relatives had been rejected and could not join them in Austria because of the safe-thirdcountry clause of the ordinance issued in September, 1992. The provisions, similar to later asylum and foreigner laws, allowed for a limited number of refugees in Austria but were based upon decisions often made by individual — 34 —

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border patrol or foreign police officers. Moreover, van Selm-Thorburn points toward reports from nongovernmental and international organizations suggesting that illegal entrants were rejected or accepted arbitrarily.13 If Bosnians arrived without legal papers, they were at times rejected and deported either directly or indirectly to Bosnia via Hungary.

Denial of Asylum for Bosnian Refugees: The Role of Legal Interpretations Both the 1968 and 1992 Asylum Laws use the 1951 Convention definition of the term refugee. To raise a legitimate asylum claim, the applicant must unequivocally qualify as a refugee under Article 1 of the 1951 Refugee Convention. The criteria determining refugee status in Austria, thus, are in principle identical with those detailed in international refugee law.14 Although most Bosnian citizens were subject to Paragraph 12 of the Residence Law (regulating their temporary residence), they could also apply for the more permanent 1951 Convention refugee asylum status. To do so, they had to meet certain eligibility requirements that they would not have to meet for temporary protection status. Those Bosnians who applied for asylum were subject to the 1968 Asylum Law or its amended versions, the 1992 and 1997 Asylum Laws, both of which granted a temporary right of residence during the asylum proceedings provided that the applicant satisfied two criteria:direct arrival from a country of persecution and submission of the application for asylum within one week of entry. These criteria, in effect, prohibited the vast majority of Bosnians from applying for Austrian asylum. According to the statistics of the Ministry for the Interior, between May, 1992, and April, 1998, a total of 4,477 Bosnians applied for asylum in Austria out of an estimated 91,400 registered Bosnian refugees. Of those who applied, 1,277 were recognized as Convention refugees.15 The Austrian Federal Asylum Office rejected more than two-thirds of the asylum claims of Bosnian refugees, holding that the applicants had failed to establish a well-founded fear of persecution based on race, religion, nationality, membership in a particular social group, or political opinion in the sense of Article 1 of the 1951 Convention. That they had been driven from their homes by paramilitary forces was deemed merely a reflection of the general dire predicaments everyone had to endure in Bosnia as long as the country was torn by warfare. In its decisions the Federal Asylum Office frequently stated that it was widely known that warlike situations often led to human-rights violations. It maintained that the conditions of suffering were not directed against specific individuals—the personal-target requirement—or defined groups of individuals, but rather were rooted in the general circumstances prevailing in Bosnia. Thus, the applicants had not demonstrated that they would be specifically at risk on returning to Bosnia.16 The office rejected the application of a Bosnian woman who claimed that she had been expelled from her home village by Bosnian Serb forces, that her — 35 —

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house had been burned down, and that she had spent more than two months in a detention camp in Trnopolje. For the Federal Asylum Office, the alleged detention affected all detainees, not just the applicant. Moreover, it also rejected claims of applicants who had been raped by paramilitary forces.17 In one decision, it explained to the rejected asylum seeker: “The fact that you have been raped . . . is irrelevant under Austrian law because it cannot be inferred therefrom that the perpetrators acted with persecutory intent. The acts, doubtless criminal, were obviously committed by drunk soldiers on their own initiative. The acts of Serb soldiers are to be condemned, but they do not constitute persecution.”18 This statement exposes not only the officials’ dismissive attitude toward rape victims but also a complete ignorance of war politics among the rivaling ethnonationalist groups in Bosnia. The office argued in particular that the Bosnian rape victim had not been able to demonstrate that she had been raped for reasons cited in the 1951 Convention. The crux of the rejection is an understanding that raping and looting soldiers did not act as agents of the state but rather as independent individuals; raping women was apparently seen as a quasi-private activity. The office most frequently denied asylum to Bosnian applicants on the grounds that they could not prove sufficient fear of individual persecution because in “civil wars” entire groups of people are persecuted, rather than individuals, and the state does not engage in violence against individuals.19 Austrian courts argued that any persecution had to be state-related to justify the granting of asylum. Harm inflicted by private groups was not considered sufficient if the state could not be expected to offer protection, such as was the case in war-torn Bosnia when Arkan’s “Tigers,” a Serb para-military force, threatened Bosnian Muslim inhabitants. Persecution by Arkan’s Tigers, considered a private group by Austrian courts, was not a sufficient reason to be granted asylum in Austria. This is what Samir experienced. With the implementation of the Austrian Bund-Länder Aktion granting Bosnian refugees temporary protection, the Federal Asylum Office on May 1, 1992, began to reject Bosnian nationals’ asylum applications seemingly en masse. Asylum was denied to Bosnian Serb Milena, who was married to a Bosnian Muslim and who was abused by both Muslim and Serb paramilitary troops; to then sixty-four-year-old Bosnian Muslim Rabija, who survived the detention camp in Omarska, where Serb soldiers tortured and summarily executed scores of Muslims and Croats; and to then sixty-two-year-old Bosnian Muslim Hajra, who lost her front teeth in a beating by Serb paramilitary forces. Not one Bosnian national in my sample was granted political asylum (Convention refugee status) in Austria. All of them, however, were considered de facto refugees. They would not have been accepted as Convention refugees in Germany, France, or Switzerland either, but in the United States they would have been accepted as refugees meeting the Convention criteria.20 — 36 —

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Asylum Procedures and the Independent Federal Asylum Board The total number of asylum applicants in Austria dropped sharply from 27,310 in 1991 to 16,240 in 1992 to 4,750 in 1993 because of the 1992 Asylum Law, enacted in 1993, and the TPS (initiated through Paragraph 12 of the 1992 Residence Law) for Bosnian nationals. This decrease happened even though civilians were increasingly affected by the war through ethnic cleansing and looting in Bosnia. In the midst of the Kosovo crisis in 1998, Austria recognized a mere five hundred asylum applicants.21 The total Austrian asylum approval rate in 1998 was 12.5 percent, which ranks close to the Danish approval rate of 15 percent. The Austrian Federal Asylum Office, however, stopped considering 4,612 asylum applications in 1998, according to the USCR, in most cases because the claimant had disappeared. Thus, out of a total of 13,805 applications filed in 1998, one third of all asylum applicants in Austria went underground after meeting with officials from the Federal Asylum Office in the first merits hearings. In 2001 the number of abandoned claims had risen to 14,436. Applicants’ disappearances indicate some major flaws in Austrian asylum and alien laws and procedures in general and in the amendments that went into effect on January 1, 1998, in particular. Of the 6,693 asylum applicants whose cases were adjudicated on their merits in 1999, the Federal Asylum Office granted asylum to 3,393, an approval rate of 50.7 percent, a dramatic increase from the 12.5 percent approval rate in 1998. This substantial increase in asylum recognition, granted mostly to Kosovars, curiously occurred while the far-right Freedom Party (which appealed to stop “over-foreignization” in the country) won 27.2 percent of the vote in national elections, becoming Austria’s second-largest party. The increasing recognition numbers, however, resulted from the activities of the newly established, independent Federal Asylum Board, which ruled, for example, that authorities cannot consider the Slovak Republic a safe third country because asylum seekers, who were returned from Austria, did not have access to Slovakia’s asylum procedure.22 Before the institutionalization of the independent Federal Asylum Board with the 1998 Asylum Law, the administration assumed the additional role of judge in asylum issues. When turned down in the first instance by the Federal Asylum Office, the asylum seeker could file an appeal, which would be considered by the Ministry for the Interior. Therefore, until 1998, the Ministry for the Interior had handled both the initial rejection of asylum (through the Federal Asylum Office) and the later appeals of negative decisions, simultaneously functioning as both the accused party and the judge. The Federal Asylum Board, an independent body outside the state bureaucracy, now deals with appeals. While it constitutes, in theory, an alternative determination procedure outside state administration, it is too early to evaluate whether it will become a truly independent body or remain in the shadow of the Ministry for the Interior.23 — 37 —

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The 1998 Asylum Law incorporated EU law to justify additional surveillance at the Austrian borders with non-EU states. With the implementation of the Dublin and Schengen Conventions in 1997 and 1998, Austria assumed the financial and administrative responsibilities for refugees who filed their asylum applications on Austrian territory. The Dublin Convention is an EU agreement establishing a mechanism for determining member states’ responsibilities for adjudicating asylum requests. Generally, it holds that the EU state that permits an asylum seeker entry or is the first country of arrival in the event of illegal entry is responsible for examining the asylum request. The Schengen Convention, a multilateral accord, tried to eliminate border controls between participating member states. It also established a system of common visas and data exchange about asylum seekers and other foreigners. In retrospect, however, these “new” responsibilities of the Dublin and Schengen Conventions are in fact quite old. Austria, at least in theory, had had these responsibilities toward refugees and asylum seekers since the creation of the Second Republic in 1955. Considering that Austria borders the Czech and Slovak Republics and Hungary and Slovenia, all of which were non-EU member states prior to May 2004, the Ministry for the Interior saw these Convention implementations as reason enough to increase surveillance of these borders sharply to prevent unauthorized aliens from entering the country. According to the USCR, 19,653 persons attempting to enter Austria clandestinely were arrested in 1998 alone. The Austrian case demonstrates that individual EU member states remain vastly autonomous in their decision-making processes in the field of asylum policy.24 Bosnian refugees’ experience demonstrated how the 1990s asylum policies in Western Europe influenced the lot of refugees. In the United States, however, Bosnian refugees, unlike Haitian refugees, were rarely affected by the asylum procedures because they were considered of “special humanitarian concern.” As a result of the United States’s ill-fated involvement in the Bosnian War (chapter 1), Bosnian resettlement was supported by the U.S. administration and favored in the U.S. priority system (the latter’s criteria for eligibility for resettlement remained wide open for Bosnians until the end of 1999;see the discussion later in this chapter). Therefore, in 1998, Bosnians were the single largest group to resettle in the United States. Austria instead granted temporary residence to Bosnian refugees, illustrating in particular that TPS rather than Convention status has been the preferred solution of Western European states.

Bosnian Refugees’ Status in the United States: A Generous Interpretation n contrast to Austrian asylum and alien laws, the U.S. refugee program is clearly structured and, at first glance, lacks arbitrariness and confusing ordinances. For Bosnians seeking to escape the war, the U.S. Resettlement Program, with its processing priority system, kept the door open long after

I

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Bosnian Refugees and Changes in Asylum Law

European countries had closed their borders. Mainly through the familyreunification program, thousands of Bosnians have entered the United States annually since 1994. Moreover, under the premises of family reunification, the resettlement of refugees is highly economical for the U.S. federal government, because most of the costs are usually carried by the refugee’s relatives. Nevertheless, with the passage of the 1996 Illegal Immigration Reform and Immigration Responsibility Act (IIRIRA), U.S. immigration law began to embrace exclusivist features similar to those in Austria and other European states.25 The U.S. refugee program consists of three parts: the asylum system, overseas assistance, and the refugee resettlement program. The attorney general designated Bosnians who were in the United States before August 10, 1992, to have temporary protection status. TPS ended for Bosnian nationals on February 10, 2001. Although the number of Bosnian nationals who could benefit from TPS was comparatively small, all the Bosnians in my U.S. sample were able to take advantage of the generous U.S. resettlement scheme.26 The United States grants “refugee status” to persons outside the United States who meet the Convention definition of a refugee, as incorporated into U.S. law, and who are considered to be of “special humanitarian concern” to the United States. Each year the administration sets an admission ceiling on the number of refugees it will admit. Generally speaking, resettlement is something of a misnomer because the majority of entrants in the second half of the twentieth century have not been settled in countries of first asylum but have come to the United States directly from their countries of origin. Most Bosnian refugees resettled in the United States, however, arrived from Croatia, the Federal Republic of Yugoslavia, Germany, Italy, or Austria. Unlike overseas refugee admissions, there is no limit to the number of persons already present in the United States who may be granted “asylum” if determined to have a well-founded fear of persecution.27

U.S. Resettlement Program and Processing Priorities For more than a year after the outbreak of the war, Washington did not admit any Bosnian refugees. After 1993 the number of refugees admitted steadily increased until 1999 (table 3). In 2001 a total of 14,594 Bosnians were resettled in the United States, the second largest number of refugees after refugees from the former Soviet Union. Therefore, more than 120,000 Bosnian refugees were resettled in the United States between 1993 and 2000.28 According to the U.S. Refugee Act of 1980 and its processing priority system for Bosnian nationals, Samir, Milena, Hajra, and Rabija would most likely have been granted refugee status in the United States. The 1980 Refugee Act does not include any references to state-related persecution as a necessary prerequisite for gaining refugee status. This does not mean, however, that Bosnians applying for resettlement in the United States at any of its processing — 39 —

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Table 3: Admission of Bosnian Refugees to the United States (1993–1999) Year

Refugees admitted 1,887 7,197 9,870 12,030 21,357 30,906 22,696

1993 1994 1995 1996 1997 1998 1999

Sources: USCR, “Refugees Admitted to the United States, by Nationality, 1986–99,” http://www.refugees.org/world/statistics/wrs00_table7.htm; USCR, “Country Report: United States,” 1997, http://www.refugees.org/world/countryrpt/amer_carib/1997 /us.htm; USCR, “Country Report: United States,” 1998, http://www.refugees.org/world /countryrpt/amer_carib/1998/us.htm; USCR, “Country Report: United States,” 1999, http://www.refugees.org/world/countryrpt/amer_carib/1999/us.htm; USCR, “Country Report: United States,” 2000, http://www.refugees.org/world/countryrpt/amer_carib /2000/us.htm; USCR, “Country Report: United States,” 2001, http://www.refugees.org /world/countryrpt/amer_carib/2001/us.htm.

facilities in Zagreb, Split, Belgrade, Vienna, Rome, Madrid, and other parts of Europe were granted refugee status en masse.29 To apply for resettlement in the United States, Bosnian refugees had to first qualify as a “processing priority,” which granted them an interview with the Immigration and Naturalization Service (INS). The first processing priority (P–1) was open to any refugee as long as the refugee had received a referral from either the UNHCR or a U.S. embassy. Therefore, P–1 theoretically included those persons whom the 1951 Convention defines as refugees and those who would be considered political refugees in Austria. A very small number of Bosnian refugees qualified under the P–1 category. These few were in urgent need of medical attention not available in their countries of temporary residence.30 However, the story of the Bosnian Muslim Adem in my sample demonstrates that even persons urgently needing medical attention were not always granted P–1 status. While working for the military police in Sarajevo, Adem, then in his early twenties, was hit by a shell in October, 1993, and lost his right arm. He explains that he came to New York to “take care of [his] health.” Adem left Sarajevo for Croatia in June, 1994, and awaited his adjudication in Split, Croatia, until September. He was not, however, granted P–1 status; one of his friends, a U.S. resident, acted as a cousin and filed an affidavit of relationship (AOR), through which a legal U.S. resident confirms that he — 40 —

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or she has a certain family relationship to the asylum seeker. Like the vast majority of Bosnians, Adem was granted refugee status not because of his need for medical attention or because of other humanitarian considerations, but because he met family-reunification criteria. Damir is one of the few Bosnians in my sample who entered the United States with P–1 status. A Bosnian Muslim in his early forties, Damir arrived in New York City in January, 1994, having survived four Croatian detention camps. Before the war Damir had worked as a journalist in his native city Mostar. A French committee for the protection of journalists finally found him in a Croatian camp and referred him to the UNHCR as a P–1 case. Not every detainee was considered a priority-one case. Bosnian Muslim Tarik, for example, who had spent four months in a Croatian detention camp, was not classified P-1. When Tarik, a man in his mid-fifties, was finally released, the Croat authorities ordered him to leave the country and took him to Zagreb, from where he left for Denmark. After a cousin filed an AOR for him, Tarik and his family ended up in San Jose, California, and later moved to New York. Like Adem, Tarik fell into the P–5 category, although he could have been considered as either a P–1 or P–2 priority as well. Priority two (P–2), is also determined by humanitarian concerns. It is applicable to a limited number of specific nationalities (including Bosnians, until February 1, 2001) and to categories of refugee applicants that fit the U.S. refugee-resettlement program’s criteria. This latter group included former Bosnian detainees held because of their ethnicity, religion, or political opinion; Bosnians in ethnically mixed marriages; members of ethnic groups that were targeted by governmental authorities or quasi-governmental authorities and who became victims of torture or other systematic and significant acts of violence; and surviving spouses of civilians who would have been eligible under these criteria if their spouses had not died.31 The P–3, P–4, and P–5 categories reflect the importance the United States places on family reunification. Family reunification in the refugeeresettlement program remains the most cost-efficient way for the state to admit refugees because individuals rather than government sponsor the refugees. Most of the Bosnian refugees in my U.S. sample (eighteen of twenty) were referred as priority three, four, or five. P–3 includes spouses, unmarried children of any age, and parents of persons lawfully admitted to the United States as permanent residents. The U.S. State Department’s Bureau of Population, Refugees and Migration announced the decision to terminate the filing of AORs as of June 1, 2000, for P–3 Bosnian refugees.32 P–4 defined as eligible for resettlement the grandparents, grandchildren, married sons and daughters, and siblings of U.S. residents. The registration for P–4 status for Bosnians closed on November 1, 1999. P–5, which included uncles, aunts, nieces, nephews, and first cousins of U.S. residents, was available for Bosnian Muslims only;registration ended on March 31, 1997. Thus, only Bosnian Muslims who — 41 —

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had AORs signed, notarized, and submitted to a refugee resettlement agency on or before March 31, 1997, were eligible to be processed for admission during fiscal year 1998. P–5 status was not available for any nationality in 2000. P–3, P–4, and P–5, while they existed, were quickly used by Bosnians to effect a “chain migration” to the United States.

Political Bias of the U.S. Refugee Program and the IIRIRA: Instruments of Exclusion Possibly because of the United States’s involvement in the Bosnian War, Bosnians were, until 2000, generously resettled in the United States; other groups of refugees, however, were not, especially those from African and Latin American countries. A trend—quite similar to that in Austria and Europe—developed in the United States between about 1980 and 2000 to restrict refugees’ access to U.S. territory. Since the Refugee Act of 1980 was enacted (formally replacing the political, Cold War rationale for asylum and U.S. resettlement with a legal and humanitarian rationale), various major developments have restricted U.S. refugee and asylum policy. The policy of forcibly returning to Haiti, without a hearing, persons fleeing that country resembled Western Europe’s restrictive policies of returning refugees to safe third countries or to countries of origin without merit hearings. These developments manifested primarily in the 1996 IIRIRA.33 The IIRIRA altered key concepts (e.g., entry, exclusion, and deportation) in U.S. immigration law and thus moved the U.S. asylum system closer to those practicing prevention through exclusion, which is currently the policy of EU member states. Before the IIRIRA, entry—even without documents—presumed presence, which allowed for legal protection in deportation proceedings. The IIRIRA removed the distinction between deportation and exclusion proceedings and, in effect, created a single “removal” proceeding to determine admissibility. It replaced the term “excludable” with “inadmissible.” Generally, it authorized immigration officers to “order the alien removed from the United States without further hearing or review” if the officer determined that the alien had arrived without proper documents. An exception is made if the alien “indicates an intention to apply for asylum” or fears “persecution.” Refugees usually have improper documentation, if they have any. If the person entering without legal documentation makes an asylum claim, the IIRIRA is to instruct immigration officials to refer her or him to an asylum officer. If the latter determines that the alien does not have a “credible fear” of persecution, the law directs the officer to order the alien removed from the United States “without further hearing or review.”34 With the credible-fear-of-persecution clause and the expedited-removal procedure in the IIRIRA, the United States implemented a process of screening potential refugee applicants through a multistep, hierarchical interviewing procedure.35 The INS deported 172,312 people in 1998 and 176,990 in 1999, a 255 per— 42 —

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cent increase from the 69,536 it deported in 1996 (the year the IIRIRA was passed). The 1999 total does not include some seventy-two thousand persons in INS custody who departed voluntarily after being charged with a violation of immigration law; nor does it include approximately 1.5 million apprehensions and the potential refugees who voluntarity returned after being rejected at U.S. borders. According to the American Committee on Migration and Refugee Affairs (CMRA), the Lawyers’ Committee on Human Rights documented cases from 1998 in which Kosovar Albanian asylum seekers were deported under the expedited-removal proceedings. In 2000 a total of 85,796 aliens were removed through the expedited-removal process, and in 2002 the INS removed 146,000 persons.36 After the enactment of the Refugee Act of 1980 and throughout the 1980s, political and foreign-policy considerations figured prominently in the U.S. asylum system. Decisions that were supposed to be governed by international standards, such as the 1951 Convention and its 1967 Protocol, were instead frequently subject to political considerations. The political bias of the U.S. refugee policy becomes clear upon review of the number of approved asylum seekers from different nations. According to one study cited by Osuna and Hanson, from 1983 to 1990 the approval rate for Salvadoran asylum applicants was 2.6 percent, for Guatemalans 1.8 percent, and for Haitians 1.9 percent. During the same period, the approval rate for Iranian applicants was 61 percent, for Romanians 68.2 percent, and for applicants from the former Soviet Union 76.7 percent. No refugees from Central America were admitted to the United States in 1998 (but about 5,500, mostly Salvadorans and Guatemalans were admitted in 1999). However, in 1998, a total of 30,906 Bosnians were resettled in the United States, and in 1999, a total of 22,600 Bosnians were admitted. U.S. resettlement preferences appear to have been determined by U.S. foreign policy and—when viewed in retrospect—especially by its failures.37 Similar to the exclusivist tendencies in Austrian asylum law that resulted from the refugee influx into Europe in the 1990s, the IIRIRA was motivated at least in part by the influx of Haitians into the United States. The so-called Haitian crisis was perhaps the biggest U.S. refugee dilemma in the 1990s. The forced return of more than forty thousand Haitian refugees between 1991 and 2001 was soundly criticized both within and outside the United States on the grounds that it flew in the face of national and international prohibitions against refoulement—that is, according to Article 33(1) of the 1951 convention, the expulsion or return of refugees to the country where their lives would be threatened—and that it selectively discriminated against Haitians. U.S. measures, such as the interdiction program for Haitian refugees, resulted in the same problems for potential refugees in or on their way to U.S. territory as those faced by refugees in Europe because of the safe-third-country and safecountry-of-origin clauses and the community’s sharply increased surveillance of its borders.38 — 43 —

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U.S. refugee policy with its three parts—overseas assistance, asylum, and refugee resettlement—provided certain groups (especially Vietnamese, Russian Jewish, and Bosnian refugees) with effective and adequate protection. The family-reunification program in particular is far more inclusive than similar programs in Austria. The three favored resettled groups, however, illuminate the greatest weakness of U.S. policy: the influence of U.S. foreign policy over humanitarian policy. In addition, refugee groups considered to be of humanitarian concern for the United States, do not always benefit from refugee policies, especially during the adjudication processes. An outstanding example of this was the extensive backlog at INS processing facilities during the Bosnian war.39 Since 1996 and the enactment of the IIRIRA, the United States has increasingly turned toward preventing refugees from entering rather than protecting them. Both the Austrian and U.S. governments enacted policies seeking to ban certain undesired refugee groups’ access to asylum or refugee status by narrowly interpreting the most basic instruments of international human rights and protection.

Comparing Exclusivist Legal Instruments hile Austria “invented,” to use Puntervold Bo’s terms, TPS, and while the concepts of safe third countries and safe countries of origin became popular in European decision-making circles, the United States introduced an excluding measure through the expedited-removal clause of the IIRIRA. According to all these procedures, the refugee is denied a merit hearing to articulate his or her claim in a full asylum interview. The 1996-enacted IIRIRA is similar to Austrian policies of exclusion in that it also employs increased border surveillance and includes countries with questionable human rights records as safe third countries on the White List. The Act also designates as safe countries of origin (e.g., Haiti) or countries with viable internal-flight alternatives that would not meet common-sense definitions of safe. Furthermore, it instructs border personnel to refuse entry and exclude from merit hearings any refugees with such third-country or internal-flight options.40 The IIRIRA has shortened the process of asylum adjudication and handed down to the individual immigration officer in charge a substantial amount of responsibility previously held by immigration judges. According to the expeditedremoval clause of the IIRIRA, the potential refugee has to demonstrate to the initial asylum officer a credible fear of persecution. It requires that asylum seekers without legal documentation show a “significant possibility . . . that [they] could establish eligibility for asylum,” according to the well-founded fear-of-persecution standard used under current law for adjudicating asylum claims.41 The IIRIRA instructs asylum officers to consider the credibility of the alien and whatever “other factors” are known to the officers in making the

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Bosnian Refugees and Changes in Asylum Law

credible-fear determination. Before 1996, INS asylum officers had no authority to deport aliens, even after a full-asylum interview. They issued an “order to show cause” for aliens who were not granted asylum and who appeared to be deportable. This referral system moved aliens in deportation proceedings to an immigration judge before whom the alien could make her or his asylum claim once again. With the implementation of the IIRIRA, an immigration judge may review the asylum officer’s negative decision, but only if the asylum seeker requests it. Many refugees may not know of this option, however, because they are denied access to legal counsel during detention. Thus, in the vast majority of cases the INS immigration and asylum officers became the final decision makers in asylum claims in prescreening procedures.42 Furthermore, the IIRIRA insulates expedited removal from judicial review, holding that such removal orders are not subject to further administrative or judicial appeals, stating that no court shall have jurisdiction “to hear any claim attacking the validity of an order of removal” implemented according to this procedure. Therewith, the act grants the power to determine the legitimacy of the asylum applicants’ claims nearly exclusively to INS asylum officers. In 1999 a total of 89,521 people were removed from the United States through expedited-removal procedures.43 In 1999, officials arrested about forty thousand people attempting to enter the country clandestinely in Austria, and 437 asylum seekers were removed on safe-third-country grounds.44 At least until the founding of the independent Federal Asylum Board in 1998, asylum seekers in Austria whose applications were rejected by the Federal Asylum Office could appeal only to the Ministry for the Interior. With the implementation of the IIRIRA, legislation that upholds the same underlying political principles as those in Austria and some other EU member states to minimize asylum numbers, many refugees and displaced people were excluded from the United States. While the determination of credible fear of persecution is pending, the IIRIRA states that the alien must be detained. In this way, the IIRIRA resembles the Austrian practice of detaining asylum seekers, especially when the authorities assume the claimant might disappear before the merits decision is made. Asylum seekers are thus detained to ensure their deportation if denied asylum. Detention continues to be used frequently during pending asylum decisions in Austria, although the 1998 asylum legislation granted provisional-residence rights to applicants. These measures clearly reflect a shift from refugee protection through resettlement in the 1970s and 1980s to preventing their moving to the countries of the Northern/Western world. Austrian efforts to limit the scope of the 1951 Convention through the implementation of legal measures such as TPS, safe third country, and safe country of origin are very much like the United States’s restrictive asylum procedures implemented through the IIRIRA and its expedited-removal clause. Austrian authorities refused Bosnian refugees political asylum on the — 45 —

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basis of a narrow interpretation of the 1951 Convention and the term “refugee.” Therefore, the vast majority of Bosnian refugees could not apply for or receive asylum in Austria.45 The United States does resettle more refugees than any other country, although it is not the most generous in terms of the numbers admitted in relation to its own population. The Clinton administration decreased refugee ceilings and the numbers of refugees permitted to resettle in the 1990s—from about 132,000 in 1992, to 70,090 in 1997, to 72,515 in 2000, and finally to 68,426 in 2001—without much public or international protest.46 In 2002 the United States resettled 27,100 refugees.47 In an international comparison of the numbers of resettled refugees and asylees between 1975 and 1993, Sweden ranks as the European front-runner, with twenty-one refugees accepted in the country per thousand citizens. By 1999 the ratio of refugee population to total population in Germany was 1 to 288;in the United States, 1 to 455;on the West Bank and in Jordan, 1 to 3; in Lebanon 1 to 11; and in Yugoslavia 1 to 22.48 The general effect of refugees and migrants on Northern/Western countries has been considerable but is certainly less dramatic than its effect on many nonWestern countries.

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CHAPTER 3

Residence and Initial Problems in Austria and the United States

The real crime has been done to me after I left the war zone. —Mr. Kikic, Bosnian refugee

SOCIAL SCIENTISTS, such as William Rogers Brubaker, have claimed that the distinction between citizen and denizen (legal, permanent resident) has become less relevant for the provision of social services to those who reside within a nation’s territory.1 Focusing on “post-national citizenship,” Yasemin Soysal has suggested that international pressures within the human rights regime, and the internal realities of guest workers’ becoming permanently settled have forced states like Germany to extend social rights to noncitizens. In contrast to Brubaker and Soysal, however, Gary Freeman maintains that the “distributive logic of the welfare state extends only to members.”2 I focus on the significance of the specific type of welfare regime in host countries. Whether the state is considered a welfare state (e.g., Austria and Germany) or a so-called liberal welfare state, in which public assistance and social services are of marginal importance (such as the United States), influences the adaptation and acclimatization processes of refugees possibly as much as their places of origin, education, or war trauma experience. Individual welfare provisions and the structural arrangement of settlement-support schemes in Austria and the United States are primarily responsible for determining whether refugees are provided or denied benefits. Refugees themselves, in turn, are more active participants than passive recipients in their host communities, shaping their settlement with all means possible to better their socioeconomic lot. Bosnian refugees used available resources to progress both socially and economically in New York City and Vienna. The result of the refugees’ efforts

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in these two host societies with quite different structural settlement arrangements was that they held the same socioeconomic status in both places. After their arrival in the United States, Bosnians could take advantage of an extensive resettlement program, a public-private partnership providing a wide variety of services. Austria denied Bosnian refugees—a people who frequently survived torture, expulsion, and persecution by paramilitary troops—Convention asylum status. The U.S. resettlement program has been based on the premises of permanent residence and early economic self-sufficiency through employment, while Bosnians in Austria held an uncertain temporary residence status over a number of years, and most could not seek legal employment. Bosnian refugees in the United States had direct and immediate access to the job market and to public-assistance schemes. Moreover, the United States has made more progress in dismantling discrimination in employment, housing, and other spheres of social and economic life in the past thirty years. And most important, in the latter half of the 1990s the United States (unlike Europe) experienced the biggest and longest-lasting economic boom in decades.3 Based on these factors, one would assume that the resettlement experience of Bosnian nationals in the United States was smoother, their adaptation to the U.S. economy more successful, and their upward mobility steadier. One would also assume that the TPS in Austria led to an acculturation and acclimatization experience for the individual Bosnian refugees that was more troublesome, more likely to result in a permanent proletarianization of previously successful professionals, and more apt to force a large number of Bosnians to live marginally, both legally and economically. In short, one may assume that Bosnians in Austria were more likely to experience a severe and enduring degradation of their economic and social lives. These sets of assumptions do not reflect reality. The Bosnian nationals in my sample held the same kinds of jobs in both countries, independent of their previous careers. In spite of vastly different adaptation schemes and integration policies, Bosnians in both countries experienced quite similar socioeconomic downward mobility. Differences were detectable, however. In Austria the initial socioeconomic adaptation rested to a larger degree on the shoulders of women, whereas in the United States adaptation seems to have been less gendered. Women’s work was influenced by the particular demands of the black labor market in Austria. In contrast, women’s participation in low-skill labor in the United States appears to have been at the discretion of individual families and their medium- and long-term objectives.

Austria’s TPS uring the initial phase of the Bosnian relief scheme in Austria (1992–93), de facto refugees were granted TPS but denied the right to work or to

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travel freely within Austria. The majority of Bosnian refugees in Austria, over time, gained more permanent-residence rights, and the Ministry for the Interior estimated that about sixty-five thousand Bosnians had economically “integrated” into Austria’s labor market by 1998.4 Most Bosnian de facto refugees, therefore, eventually gained migrant status. After eight years of legal residence, Bosnians in Austria are eligible to apply for citizenship but first have to give up their own citizenship. This makes the transition for Bosnians seem more permanent and decisive. While Bosnian Americans do not have to give up one part of their identity and can be both Bosnians and Americans, Bosnians in Austria have to become exclusively Austrian, even though they will in fact remain foreigners in Austria for their entire lives in the eyes of many Austrians. Because of its geographic location, Austria was the first Western European country affected by the “Bosnian refugee crisis” and thus set the precedent in Europe for employing TPS for refugees from the Balkan area. The question remains, however, why people fleeing the same conflict were granted Convention refugee status in the United States but not in most European countries. Part of the answer lies in the different legal interpretations employed by Austria and other European states to avoid applying Convention status to protect Bosnian refugees. To be sure, TPS is a relatively new legal status that Austria started employing in fall 1991 for refugees fleeing the war in Croatia. Its enactment was possible only through a particular interpretation of the Convention refugee definition, and its framework, once developed, allowed Austria and other Western European states to reject the vast majority of Bosnian refugees’ asylum applications. Most important, TPS denied Bosnian refugees certain financial and social services that would have been granted had they been admitted as Convention refugees. In Austria, Convention or political refugees receive a number of social services and benefits, such as social security and health and unemployment benefits, as well as immediate permission to seek and accept employment. In essence, a political refugee is entitled to the same social services as an Austrian citizen.5 Because of TPS, Bosnian refugees were in effect excluded from most of these benefits.

Being a De Facto Refugee in Austria Bosnian refugees fell under TPS almost automatically when they entered Austrian territory after April, 1992. In most states that provided TPS, with the exception of Canada and Great Britain, where temporary protection operates within the asylum procedure, the decision to grant temporary protection occurred simultaneously with a legally enacted or de facto suspension of asylum. This was also the case in Austria. Authorities and refugees alike clung to the idea that the Bosnian War would soon end. Therefore, Bosnian refugees— such as Samir and forty-three-year-old Bosnian Serb Milena, both of whom were in mixed marriages at the outbreak of the war—became de facto — 49 —

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refugees. Whereas Samir hoped that Arkan’s paramilitary troops would spare him and allow him to stay in Bijeljina because his wife was an Orthodox Serb, Milena was threatened and abused by both the police of her hometown Doboj (because she is Orthodox) and by Serbian paramilitary troops, who beat her with wooden sticks, mistaking her for a Muslim because she had traveled on a bus with Muslims. The Austrian Federal Asylum Office granted asylum to neither Samir nor Milena. If it had, they would have been able to move freely to any area they wished in the republic, work legally, use the federal employment agency’s (Arbeitsamt or later the Arbeitsmarktservice) service to find jobs, and apply for other social services. Instead, both spent months in refugee camps and could not work legally and/or move to other areas of the country in their first years in Austria.

The Austrian Bund-Länder Aktion: A Federal-Provincial Relief Scheme About a hundred thousand Bosnian refugees resided in Austria, a country of roughly eight million citizens, throughout the war. With TPS, most of them benefited at one point or another from the Austrian relief program initiated especially for them in the spring of 1992. In agreement with the Länder (provinces), the Austrian Ministry for the Interior set up the so-called BundLänder Aktion (federal-provincial plan), which became the key relief program for displaced Bosnians. From May 1, 1992, until August 31, 1998, more than ninety-one thousand persons registered in the program, which provided them with food, shelter, and health care. The plan consisted of two types of contracts: one dealing with private housing, the other with public housing. The administrative obligations of the Länder were to register displaced persons, arrange their housing, and pay a monthly cash grant of ATS 1,500 (about US$125 or EUR 110) to those owning the private accommodations. At the end of 1992, of 42,545 refugees in the plan, 33,392 lived in private accommodations while 9,153 were registered in public accommodations in large complexes, mostly military compounds.6 The relief program did not directly support the refugees in private accommodations with cash payments. For many Bosnian refugees, such as forty-one-year-old Muslim Besim and his thirty-five-year-old wife, Selma, who arrived in Vienna from Zvornik with their two children, this meant no regular income for more than five years. The Bund-Länder Aktion was based on the de facto refugee status, enacted through Paragraph 12 of the Residence Law of 1992, which granted official recognition and temporary right of residence to war expellees (see chapter 2).7 From the beginning of the Bosnian refugee influx in spring 1992, entry into and temporary residence in Austria was guaranteed to most refugees without major difficulties, it seems; regular employment was, however, prohibited. In July, 1993, the first time-limited right of residence without an individual eligibility procedure was introduced into the Austrian legal system with the enactment of the Residence Law. Paragraph 12 of this law enables the fed— 50 —

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eral government to pass decrees providing temporary protection for refugees in need. A decree in conjunction with the Residence Law concerning the temporary protection of Bosnian refugees was immediately issued. Bosnian citizens who had to leave their country of origin because of the ongoing war and who were not able to find protection in another country were granted, en masse, a time-limited right of residence until June 30, 1994. In the following months and years the time limit was extended: first for a half year, then for a full year, then for seventeen months, and, finally, until July 31, 1998. The Bosniergesetz (Bosnians Law), passed in 1998, regulated the transformation of the Bosnian refugees’ de facto status under TPS into a permanent residence status, the guest-worker status, under certain conditions (e.g., proof of legal employment or other sufficient financial support).8 Arriving in Austria in April, 1992, Besim’s family, for example, applied for political asylum twice, although Besim and Selma considered themselves temporary war expellees rather than asylum seekers. Their asylum applications were denied both times. At the end of 1992, they changed their status to de facto refugees. Since July, 1998, Selma has held a residence permit (Niederlassungsbewilligung), excluding her from the Aktion, and changed her legal status from de facto refugee to migrant worker, making her a subject of the Aliens Act and allowing her family to remain in Austria as guest workers. The Austrian government, however, provided Bosnian refugees in the plan with health care and reluctantly began to open the labor market to them in the following years (1993–98). Welfare aid provisions were regulated by the Länder and covered daily needs, mainly through financial grants for housing, food supplies, and clothes, and also provided health care. While some Länder did not discriminate based on nationality, others granted welfare support only to Austrians or asylees. However, welfare was, in general, only granted to the extent that the person under consideration had no other financial means to meet his or her daily needs. During the Bund-Länder Aktion the vast majority of Bosnian refugees lived in private accommodations, provided to them by churches or grassroots organizations, bed-and-breakfast owners during off-season, or individual friends and family members who had already lived in Austria as guest workers for longer periods. In 1994 nearly twice as many Bosnian de facto refugees lived in private accommodations as in publicly provided accommodations in Vienna, and the number of people in the latter decreased substantially throughout the Aktion.9 In the plan the direct care and relief supervision for Bosnian refugees in Vienna fell to the Viennese city government (Magistratsabteilung 12, MA 12). By January, 1994, a total of 2,781 Bosnians were publicly accommodated, while 4,814 had found private housing in Vienna. Two-thirds of the financial obligations for those refugees were carried by the federal government, while the remaining third was covered by Vienna and Lower Austria.10 — 51 —

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Labor Politics and Social Benefits for Aliens in Austria Only with their entry into the formal job market, which is structured through a rigid priority system, did Bosnian nationals became eligible for a number of social-welfare support schemes provided for the country’s residents. Although finding lawful employment was crucial for Bosnians wanting to profit from social services and benefits, gaining legal employment was tricky and difficult. The main concern of the Austrian administration has traditionally been to limit the employment of foreign workers to protect Austrian workers. The granting of work permits (Beschäftigungsbewilligungen) to Bosnians was therefore closely linked to a maximum quota for foreign employees in the country; according to federal law, the number of foreign workers in Austria is not too exceed 8 percent of the total number of native employees. Nevertheless, the minister for labor and social affairs is entitled, under special circumstances, to issue a decree to raise this number to 9 percent if the economy is stable.11 In his analysis of the Austrian labor legislation for foreigners, August Gächter emphasized that “this whole system is well known, exists intentionally and has been relied upon.”12 He states that these labor-market regulations have been consciously implemented to reduce the number of foreign nationals in the labor market in the past (e.g., in the mid-1970s and in the aftermath of the 1981 recession).13 These regulations have significantly contributed to an increase in the number of illegally employed foreigners, especially Bosnians, because the exclusion of foreigners from the labor market was not market-driven and thus initially affected only formal employment and not actual employment of Bosnian refugees in Austria. While the refugees’ food, lodging, and health care were guaranteed and supervised by the office for the Bosnier Aktion in the Department of Integration and Migration of the Ministry for the Interior, Bosnian refugees’ socioeconomic mobility was rigidly limited. In July, 1993, more than a year after the arrival of the first refugees, the Ministry of Labor and Social Affairs issued an ordinance allowing a modest number of work permits to be granted to de facto refugees. Bosnians were listed as a “third category” after nationals (including EU citizens and Convention refugees) and migrant workers who had already lived in Austria for a longer period. According to the Ministry of Labor and Social Affairs, by the end of 1993, forty-eight hundred work permits had been issued in Vienna alone, but many of these were valid only for temporary and seasonal jobs. At the time, more than eight thousand Bosnian refugees lived in the city. A total of 15,020 work permits were issued in 1993 in Austria, to be shared among all foreigners who sought legal employment for the first time, including the integrated children of guest-worker families: 47,746 Bosnian refugees were registered in the Bund-Länder Aktion alone.14 In practice, however, this meant that in 1993 work permits for de facto refugees were granted only for jobs that could not be filled by unemployed — 52 —

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Austrian citizens or migrant workers holding residence permits. Permits were usually denied to Bosnian refugees for jobs in their own professions (e.g., technical engineering). The regional employment centers would seek instead to fill an open position with an Austrian citizen or migrant worker who collected unemployment benefits. Work permits were even more difficult for Bosnian refugees to acquire in the following years because of the reduction of permits for nonnationals. All non-Austrian and non-EU citizens wishing to work in Austria are subject to the Law on the Employment of Nonnationals, which requires employers to obtain work permits for potential foreign employees under certain conditions. Bosnian refugees themselves needed to find a company willing to employ them. The government excluded from the Bund-Länder Aktion de facto refugees who received work permits. In the course of finding legal employment, the status of the Bosnians legally changed from de facto refugees (subject to the 1992 Residence Law) to migrant workers (subject to the Aliens’ Act). Legal employment was therefore a condition for the more permanent residence permit for migrant workers. In general, the employer applies for a work permit at the regional employment center, which issues a permit for one year if the country’s economic situation is considered stable. This control mechanism, however, leads to explicit discrimination against Bosnian refugees in the labor market. Furthermore, foreign workers have to be legally employed in the same company for at least fifty-two weeks in the previous fourteen months to “move up” in the hierarchically structured labor market: after the first fifty-two weeks of employment with a work permit the person can get his or her work authorization (Arbeitserlaubnis), which is valid for two years, locally restricted but no longer bound to one employer only (see table 4). Bosnians were keen on keeping their jobs because their residence rights depended on their legal employment. Anecdotal evidence points toward this set of legal restrictions resulting in whole companies specializing in the employment (and sometimes exploitation) of Bosnian refugees in Vienna. As Besim put it, “Foreign work is dirty, hard and with little pay;” employers knew that the Bosnians were bound to do the job, having no real choice if they wished to remain in Austria. While working long, strenuous hours for little money, Bosnians did not dare to complain because they could not afford to lose their jobs and residence permits. When the Bosnian de facto refugees in Austria, however, managed to get a work permit and legal employment, they automatically became eligible for a number of social services and benefits, including unemployment and family benefits, medical insurance, and maternity and paternity benefits. Furthermore, Bosnian women especially may have benefited from the general social services and public-assistance schemes provided by the Austrian state after their entry into the legal job market. As long as the women meet the requirements of the Maternity Law and the Law on Parental Leave, maternity and — 53 —

Table 4: Interrelationship of Labor and Residence Laws in Austria

The hierarchical structure of the Austrian labor market concerning work permits for foreign (non-EU) nationals: 1. Beschäftigungsbewilligung (work permit): maximum validity: one year, granted to employer, limited to one employer, and restricts refugee’s geographical movement; total number of work permits granted can not exceed 8–9 percent of the total number of Austrians employed. After the foreigner has been employed for fifty-two weeks, she or he can be granted a work authorization. 2. Arbeitserlaubnis (work authorization): prerequisite of fifty-two weeks of employment in the preceding fourteen months; maximum validity: two years, granted to foreign nationals, no restrictions as to employer but only valid in one province. After the foreigner has worked legally in Austria for five years, she or he can apply for a liberty pass. 3. Befreiungsschein (liberty pass): applicant must have either five years of legal employment in Austria during the past eight years, or be divorced from an Austrian citizen after a marriage lasting at least eight years; maximum validity: five years, with no restriction as to employer and no geographical limitations. While employed, the foreigner must also apply for a Niederlassungsbewilligung (residence permit). The first application for a residence permit must be filed outside Austria. The foreigner must give a reason for her or his residence Austria on the application. Valid reasons are employment, marriage, etc. To get a residence permit, the foreigner must either be lawfully employed and earning a sufficient income or must have another source of financial support to remain in the country. Moreover, health insurance is required. (All Bosnians who hold a residence permit therefore had to leave the country at one point or another to apply for the permit.) Source: Beratungszentrum für Migranten und Migrantinnen, Die Rechtliche Stellung von Ausländern in Österreich (Vienna: Beratungszentrum für Migranten und Migrantinnen, 1998), 3–16.

Residence and Initial Problems

paternity benefits are granted irrespective of nationality. Bosnian women fell under the Maternity Law and Law on Parental Leave if they were legally employed for a minimum of one year in Austria. Family benefits were granted if the applicant was either an Austrian citizen or had been residing in Austria continuously for five years, had been granted asylum, or had been employed in the federal territory for a minimum of three months. The latter condition became relevant for a number of Bosnian de facto refugees who held a work permit and were legally employed.15 As did all Bosnian refugee women in my Austrian sample—with the exception of Dzemila, who was eleven years old upon her arrival—Selma worked illegally for years as a maid. In June, 1998, she finally got her work permit to work as a room attendant in a Viennese hospital. Her new legal employment enabled the family to change their status from de facto refugees to migrant workers, which meant they were excluded from the Bund-Länder Aktion. In the meantime, her husband, Besim, took German and computer courses before he got a job in September, 1998, as a manager of a grocery chain’s beverage section. Selma’s and Besim’s gradual adaptation to the Austrian labor market seems to have followed a pattern typical for many Bosnian refugee families. The segregation and discrimination in the legal labor market resulted in Bosnians’ being concentrated in its lowest segments. Thus, Bosnians continued working in maid service, tourism, construction, and farming, the same occupations in which they had been working illegally. Such de facto discrimination enhanced the already-weighted employment of women in the kinds of jobs that they had held on the black labor market. The gender-based distinction severely affected existing gender roles and relations in Bosnian refugee families. Applying for work permits for maid service or tourism jobs, Bosnian women not only began to provide the main family income but also were frequently employed in legal occupations sooner than Bosnian men. By holding legal employment, Bosnian women secured their families’ residence rights as well as such social benefits as health insurance. The women considered the cleaning work—although often strenuous and causing skin conditions and diseases—a flexible part-time occupation that left them with time to take care of their families. Throughout the 1990s thirty to forty thousand Bosnian refugees, the majority of them women, changed their de facto refugee status to the more permanent guest-worker status.16 Restrictive Austrian employment policies resulted in the increased participation of Bosnian refugees in the black labor market. The women in my Austrian sample were relatively willing to take any job for financial reasons, whereas the men, it seems, did not adapt quickly to the discriminatory segregation of the labor market and to their subsequent loss of social status. The forty-year-old Bosnian Muslim Mejra explained the refugee women’s motivations: “Bosnian women wanted to prove to their relatives that they were — 55 —

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industrious and hardworking. They wanted to demonstrate to their families that they were worthy, . . . worked hard and were successful.” A social worker at the NGO Beratungszentrum für Migranten und Migrantinnen in Vienna, Angela Ivezicˇ, explained that, even though they were victims of war and exodus traumas, Bosnian women behaved more “pragmatically”— quickly realizing that they had to rebuild their existence—than did Bosnian men during the time of adaptation.17 Bosnian women found themselves working illegally as maids, baby-sitters, or dishwashers shortly after arrival. Thus, in some instances, Bosnian women in Vienna were the first to earn the main income for their families. Like the Bosnian refugees in New York, these women took advantage of both the city’s infrastructure and its demand for unskilled labor. In neither location did those holding jobs illegally receive health insurance or other social benefits from their employers. The vast majority of Bosnian de facto refugees in Austria, however, were enrolled in the Bund-Länder Aktion, which provided health coverage. In 1994 the local Viennese authorities estimated that about 40 percent of the Bosnian refugees, mostly women, were working as cleaning staff or baby-sitters, or in other illegal occupations on the black labor market.18 All the adult female refugees I interviewed in Austria had worked illegally at one time or another. As of February, 1999, the Bosnian women and men who still lived in the St. Gabriel Caritas refugee camp did what they call “work therapy,” which, according to Hasa, a sixty-two-year-old Bosnian Muslim, is “any work that distracts my mind from the memory of the war experience.” Initiated and managed by the Caritas camp management, the program puts the men to work as gardeners for nearby homes while the women grow vegetables in the camp’s garden or knit socks and sweaters to be sold at special refugee bazaars. Permitting refugees in camps to do such seasonal work seems to have been tolerated by the local authorities.19 Many people in refugee camps, which were for the most part located in rural areas lacking appropriate infrastructure, could rely only on work therapy. Numerous refugees in private accommodations, however, soon adapted to the restrictive policies of the legal labor market. For example, Besim, the former manager of an export company, began working illegally on farms around Hainburg, a village in Lower Austria, only two months after his arrival in Austria. Through the Bund-Länder Aktion, he lived with his family and other Bosnian refugees in a Hainburg bed-and-breakfast for two years. As was the case for many others, he needed money to support his relatives in Bosnia and to buy school supplies for his children. As Besim stated, “One year Zlata [Besim’s and Selma’s then nine-year-old daughter] needed a typewriter for school, and I went to work illegally in the fields of the farmers in the neighborhood to earn the money. The next year, she needed a computer and I worked illegally in the woods as a lumberjack to earn the money.” Like a number of Bosnians refugees in the United States, who initially were resettled — 56 —

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in other areas but then moved to New York City because of anticipated professional or educational opportunities, Besim moved his family from Hainburg to a suburb of Vienna in the fall of 1994 and continued to work illegally in the construction industry. In the meantime, his wife Selma cleaned people’s homes.20

TPS and Refugee Resettlement in the United States: A Public-Private Partnership he U.S. Immigration Act of 1990 contains a much broader interpretation of TPS than is found in Austria and other European countries. The act refers to persons kept away from their state of origin by ongoing armed conflict that poses a serious threat to personal security; environmental disasters, such as earthquakes, floods, droughts, or epidemics, in which the foreign state is unable to handle the return of nationals; and any other extraordinary and temporary condition that prevent aliens from safely returning to their homeland. In the United States, TPS developed after a succession of other policies and statuses: withholding deportation, suspending deportation, extending voluntary departure (EVD), and deferring enforced departure (DED). In the United States the development of TPS preceded the wars in the former Yugoslavia but was subsequently implemented for Bosnians. Determining which groups may be given TPS is based on very broad criteria. First created for Salvadorans, it was thereafter extended to refugees from Somalia, Lebanon, Liberia, Kuwait, Bosnia, and Rwanda. There are, however, no apparent guidelines or criteria to determine which countries’ citizens warrant TPS; the decision is at the discretion of the U.S. attorney general. TPS applicants must prove that they were in the United States within a designated registration period and before a cutoff date, regardless of any improvements or lack thereof in the situation in their country of origin after that date.21 This distinguishes the U.S. implementation of TPS from TPS as applied in Europe, where the situation in the country of origin is supposed to determine the termination of TPS. Implemented on August 10, 1992, the U.S. TPS was extended for Bosnians until February 10, 2001. The vast majority of Bosnian nationals in the United States, however, do not have TPS but hold refugee status and have been resettled there from European countries, including from Austria. Bosnian refugees’ resettlement in the United States is usually organized by one of the nine national resettlement agencies, which have, collectively, more than 450 affiliated resettlement offices throughout the country. In the 1980s the United States institutionalized a “complex and nationwide system of federal, state, local, and private agencies” and programs to assist refugees in adapting to U.S. society.22 Certainly, Bosnian refugees ought to have profited from the existing conglomerate of resettlement schemes and programs in the United States. The driving force behind any individual

T

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refugee-resettlement organization’s success or failure, however, depends on obtaining federal funds. The organizational race for funding unfortunately left many Bosnian refugees without the support needed in their first months of acclimatization.23

Institutional History of Refugee Resettlement Schemes in the United States As a nation of multiethnic refugee and immigrant populations, the United States frequently recognized the special needs of new arrivals. The country provided voluntary organizations with limited federal funds to assist refugees arriving from Cuba after 1960, from the Soviet Union in the 1970s, and from Indochina between 1975 and 1979. Nevertheless, there was a growing recognition in the U.S. Congress that refugee-resettlement initiatives lacked a coherent policy orientation, an adequate national infrastructural base, and a comprehensive service-delivery design.24 When the U.S. refugee-resettlement model suffered a severe crisis in the late 1970s, the U.S. Congress passed comprehensive legislation to attempt to rectify the problem. The Refugee Act of 1980 was meant to systematize and consolidate the federal refugee agenda. It required selecting refugees for resettlement based on quotas approved by the president after consultation with the U.S. Congress, and primarily aimed to economically and socially integrate refugees into U.S. society. The act also institutionalized a link between refugees in resettlement and the welfare state by establishing the Office of Refugee Resettlement (ORR) in the Department of Health and Human Services. ORR was charged with channeling federal funds to public and private organizations that provided social services to refugees, and with reimbursing state governments for the cost of refugees’ financial and medical assistance. To receive reimbursement, each state had to submit a refugee-resettlement plan, designate a state agency to administer the plan, and appoint a state refugee coordinator to establish adequate training opportunities for refugees. In the 1980s, according to Lorraine Majka, refugees were allowed to access various employment and nonemployment forms of aid on an as-needed basis. She argues that there was, however, limited concern about the outcomes of refugeeassistance initiatives at that time.25 One objective of the refugee-resettlement policy was early self-sufficiency, which over time became subject to rigid controls. Early self-sufficiency is now the basis for competition among agencies for funding. In the first years after the Refugee Act’s passage, its relatively flexible and broad provisions became more restrictive, selective, and systematic. The overall objectives of refugee-resettlement and -assistance initiatives shifted from the general social and economic adjustments of refugees to the more measurable goals of encouraging early employment and reducing welfare dependency.26 In 1999, therefore, a complex hierarchical and bureaucratic system existed for resettling and assisting refugees, and the actors included — 58 —

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voluntary organizations, agencies, councils, and assorted public and private departments and bodies, as well as refugee self-help organizations, so-called mutual assistance associations, and their committees. These various units frequently attempted to deliver coordinated forms of aid to multiethnic client bases.

Bosnians in the U.S. Resettlement Program The resettlement scheme for Bosnian refugees in the United States began late in 1993, more than one year after the outbreak of the war, and lagged about a year behind similar programs in Western Europe. The Department of State prevented earlier resettlement efforts for Bosnians, employing the same logic as other Northern/Western states of refraining from granting Convention asylum to Bosnian refugees. They worried that Bosnian refugee resettlement would reinforce and support Serb ethnic-cleansing schemes rather than provide a durable solution for thousands of people who had fled their country fearing persecution and genocide. The State Department’s stand on Bosnian refugee resettlement, however, changed considerably after 1992 and made the resettlement program widely accessible to Bosnian nationals who had dispersed throughout the Western world. By 1997, two years after the Dayton Peace Agreement, U.S. resettlement of Bosnian refugees was thus, nationality-wise, the most generous of all categories for resettling refugees in that country. Bosnians falling into any of the five processing categories open to them (P-1, P-2, P-3, P-4, P-5) were resettled in the United States. The P-5 processing category, which is based on the filing of affidavits of relationship (AOR) by American residents who were uncles, aunts, nieces, nephews, and first cousins of Bosnian Muslims willing to resettle in the United States, was open only to Bosnian Muslims and had been very rarely applied in refugeeresettlement schemes since the Indochinese crisis in the 1970s. Thus, the opening of the P-5 processing category for Bosnian nationals—as well as the generally liberal resettlement policy, reflected in the approval of refugee cases—hinted at an attempt by the American government to make reparations to its Bosnian allies for a war that was lost as much in Dayton as on the battlefield. A number of refugee-agency officers cited this generous policy that resulted in a short-term Bosnian chain migration. Many Bosnian refugees who had arrived in New York City went to work immediately to save money and thereby ensure that they could sponsor parents, brothers, sisters, nieces, nephews, cousins, and other relatives (for Bosnian refugee resettlement in the United States, see table 3). Thus, while repatriation efforts increased year after year in many European countries, most prominently in Germany and to a lesser extent in Austria, the United States continued to resettle Bosnians throughout the second half of the 1990s—and especially after 1996—largely based on family-reunification criteria.27 — 59 —

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Initial Acclimatization of Bosnian Refugees in New York City The majority of Bosnians resettled in the United States were processed by the INS in Croatia and other locations in the former Yugoslavia. Throughout the second part of the 1990s, however, an increasing number of Bosnian refugees reached the United States via Germany, Italy, Denmark, Austria, and other European countries in which they had initially been granted TPS but not permanent residence status. In Vienna, Ms. Moser, the Austrian Caritas officer in charge of referring and advising refugees who sought resettlement in the United States, stated that the Bosnian de facto refugees were one of the most problematic refugee groups. Most of her clients belonged to the group of Bosnian refugees who had not yet been able to find legal employment in Austria and, after the end of the Bund-Länder Aktion, had been pressured to leave the country and find a new permanent residence by either resettling in one of the principal resettlement countries or repatriating to Bosnia. For Moser, it was “a squabble with the Bosnians,” because many of the applicants for resettlement did not really want to leave Austria, where they had spent the better part of the last decade. Considering their choices, however, many opted for resettlement rather than repatriation. Moser estimated that, because of the generous resettlement scheme for Bosnians, about 99 percent of applicants were accepted into the U.S. resettlement program between 1995 and 1998. Bosnian refugees therefore applied en masse for resettlement in the United States, but many resisted the final step of getting on a plane to the United States and instead disappeared into the underground in Austria. Moser emphasized that, according to her estimates, about 30 percent of the admitted Bosnians refused to leave Austria in the end. To her, the Bosnians are “a people who need to be pushed.”28 Many Bosnians, especially those who had made decent careers (even in the black market in Austria), only reluctantly moved to the United States. As in the Bosnian resettlement scheme, the U.S. Department of State’s Bureau of Population, Refugees, and Migration (PRM) and the ORR usually work with national voluntary-resettlement agencies to involve communitybased organizations in personally welcoming refugees and supporting them in their acclimatization to life in the United States. The vast majority of Bosnian refugees who were not family-reunification cases—the so-called free cases—were welcomed by representatives of their sponsoring resettlement agency at the airport. Compared to other areas, such as Chicago or upstate New York, New York City was considered an “impacted area,” and for this reason some, but not all, resettlement agencies there focused on familyreunification cases only.29 To relocate refugees nationwide, representatives of the nine resettlement agencies met once a week with the State Department’s representatives of the Refugee Data Center—the information-gathering center for refugee pro— 60 —

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cessing—to distribute the weekly refugee arrivals throughout the United States. The resettlement locations depended either on sponsors’ locations, for family-reunification cases, or on resettlement agencies’ resources, for free cases. The number of Bosnian refugees living in New York City’s five boroughs in 1999 was estimated between ten and fifty thousand, depending on both the source of information and the definition of “Bosnian” (for identity issues and disputes, see chapter 4).30 For free cases in the United States, agencies met the refugees’ initial needs for housing, clothing, and food. At this point local and volunteer affiliations became more important in providing furniture, clothes, and food. It was rare for Bosnian refugees in the United States to receive financial support, however. The PRM allocated a lump sum of $740 per refugee to the resettlement agency, without differentiating between free cases and family-reunification cases. The payment was meant to support the refugee during his or her first month of resettlement. While most of this amount went toward refugees’ immediate and basic needs (e.g., filling the refrigerator or paying the first month’s rent) for free-case referrals, part of this sum supported the agency’s administrative staff. The percentage that remained with the agency varied among agencies, as did the handling of the PRM money in general. Some agencies, for example, handed $740 (minus administrative deductions) to arriving refugees, whereas other agencies used it to pay refugees’ rent and other expenses. These inconsistencies, which resulted from different processing procedures and different refugee needs, contributed to the widespread confusion of the newly arrived.31 Moreover, this was just the beginning of the refugees’ struggles with institutional inconsistencies, especially in the U.S. welfare system and bureaucracy, which, as one of my sources pointedly put it, endeavored to “deny and distract.” In most cases money allocated in the United States was insufficient for refugees’ survival in the first month. Refugees were encouraged to enter the job market as soon as possible, which makes many of the stories about their first weeks in United States similar. For example, Enes, who was twenty-seven at the time, began working in a factory two days after his arrival in New York City in December, 1994. Similarly, two weeks after her arrival in San Francisco in March, 1995, nineteen-year-old Sanella began working in a toy store. While none of these refugees used their resettlement agencies’ job-placement services, those services were available. Like the Viennese local authorities in charge of Bosnian refugee settlement (the MA 12), U.S. resettlement agencies had caseworkers to assist refugees during their initial period in the United States. Many caseworkers were former refugees and so spoke the language of the newcomers. Most of the jobs offered to Bosnian refugees through placement services did not provide health or unemployment benefits. No family or maternity benefits existed for refugees in the United States. In New York City, however, Amelia Mufarevicˇ, a Bosnian — 61 —

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caseworker for Interfaith Community Services, helped her clients apply for Social Security and Medicaid and enroll in English as a Second Language (ESL) classes (for adults) and school (for children). She also referred the refugees to the job-placement officer in her agency.32 When entire refugee families arrived in New York, refugee agencies helped find immediate employment for at least one person in the family. Frequently, Bosnian fathers and husbands in New York City found employment through job placements before their wives did because the agencies contracted mainly with construction companies and factories. Women were employed before their male partners in cases in which the latter attended job-training programs or other educational courses with the objective of working in the profession that they had held in Bosnia. This was especially true for welleducated refugees in the United States.33 Many Bosnian women in my sample entered the job market shortly after their arrival in the United States. However, some could stay home and take care of their families. For example, Admira, who was thirty-two when she arrived with her husband and two small children in 1995, stayed home the first couple of years while her husband attended ESL classes and worked in construction. She then got her first job as a housekeeper in a hotel. Similarly, Jasmine’s fifty-two-year-old father, a former high school teacher, has worked as a doorman since 1995. Jasmine explained, however, that her forty-nine-yearold mother, a former nurse, could not work as a nurse in the United States and has psychological problems related to war trauma and her continuous worries about family members left behind in Bosnia. She stayed home (as a housewife) in New York but visited Sarajevo frequently. Thus, the thriving U.S. economy allowed for some Bosnian women to remain at home while their male partners provided the main income. Caseworkers furthermore advised refugees who had not yet found employment and were applying for public assistance at the end of their first month in New York City. Caseworker Mufarevicˇ , for example, was responsible for counseling refugees on issues of most immediate concern, and conducted frequent house visits during the first three months of refugees’ resettlement. Three months was the PRM-required follow-up period for refugees, but Mufarevicˇ emphasized that she worked much longer with most of her more than a hundred refugee cases.34 Other agencies employed similar acclimatization and adaptation programs. At the International Refugee Committee (IRC), for example, caseworkers accompanied the refugees to health screenings and job interviews and developed a “resettlement plan” with them. According to its program officer for resettlement Colleen Ryan, the resettlement plan included the refugees’ short-, medium-, and long-term objectives in the United States. Through federal funds, such as ORR’s Matching Grant Program, the government sought to ensure that newly arrived refugees found employment and — 62 —

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became self-sufficient as soon as possible so that they did not have to apply for public assistance.35 Bosnian Muslim Alan’s story about his experience with IRC resettlement activities, however, showed that refugees’ individual concerns were in some cases entirely ignored by the agencies. In his case, the resettlement agency employed the “deny and distract” approach that seemed a hallmark of U.S. welfare and public-assistance schemes. Alan described in colorful detail the arbitrary bureaucratic agitation he had to endure during his initial contact with the resettlement agency. After arriving in New York City in February, 1994, Alan stayed with a friend’s family for three months. His friend brought him to IRC where a “rude case manager did not offer . . . any information but just confused” him. After he told her that he had studied medicine in Bosnia, she, as his caseworker, sent him to Columbia Medical School and NYU where, Alan estimated, he would have needed about $200,000 to study medicine. In 1999 Alan was working as a job developer for the nonprofit Church Avenue Merchants Block Association (CAMBA) and learned that the IRC caseworker should have sent him to lower-priced City University of New York (CUNY) schools. Back in 1994, however, he was lost and confused. He remembers that he had an incredible toothache. His caseworker, however, failed to tell him that he was eligible for Medicaid. Finally, IRC paid for his ESL course rather than his first month’s rent. Alan’s caseworker eventually got fired and, according to Alan, got hired by the INS. He now knows that he would have been a perfect case for the Matching Grant Program, but his caseworker sent him to an IRC-affiliated New York City employment project, and he ended up wandering from restaurant to restaurant applying for jobs: “I met many Polish and Irish guys in these restaurants.” One Polish person sent him to another restaurant to apply for a job with the hint:“The workers there are all Bosnians.” Alan, however, soon found out that those waiters were Albanians, not Bosnians. In short, what Alan needed was some direction and advice on “how to present and sell myself ” to potential employers. He finally got a job with the International Organization for Migration (IOM), picking up refugees arriving at the John F. Kennedy Airport. At that time he lived on 87th Street and it took him two hours to get to the airport with public transportation. His first paycheck was $180. Although Alan’s story may not describe most Bosnians’ experience with their resettlement agencies, it illustrates an extreme case of bureaucratic misinformation and ignorance and its effect on newcomers. In the large scheme of resettlement, quick economic integration ranks as the most important objective for newcomers. Though seemingly crucial to this objective, English-language training, advice on how to present oneself at job interviews, and suggestions on how to determine whether a job provides career opportunities are secondary at best. What is crucial for both the resettlement agency’s funding and the refugee’s immediate survival is providing him or her with the first available job. — 63 —

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The Matching Grant Program and the Ultimate Objective: Self-Sufficiency Under the U.S. Matching Grant Program, one of the largest federal-assistance schemes for refugee resettlement, the ORR awards $2 for every $1 raised by the agency up to a maximum of $2,000 in federal funds per client. Of this money, at least 20 percent must be in cash, whereas the balance may be in cash, in-kind services, or donated goods. Thus, for every client there ought to be an average of $3,000 in goods and services available, according to ORR. To participate in the Matching Grant Program, the placement agency provides in-house case management with detailed progress reports on the individual refugees who profit from the grant. Furthermore, the agency must provide social-adjustment services, ESL classes, job training, and job placement for refugees throughout the first 120 days of resettlement. The Matching Grant Program thus uses the link to continuous funding to provide an incentive to speed the economic integration of refugees. Federal ratings of agencies’ efficiency is based primarily on their success placing refugees in jobs. Organizations with low efficiency ratings are removed from the assistance-delivery network. Thus, as Majka pointed out, the U.S. policy of assistance and method for assessing agencies’ performance is less focused on the agencies’ ability to deliver (often more) critical forms of aid, including culturally sensitive counseling or ESL courses and job trainings.36 Although these services may not provide refugees with immediate economic selfsufficiency, they can lead to better employment opportunities in the future. The government’s emphasis on finding work often overrides consideration of refugees’ long-term goals. In extreme cases these well-intended assistance schemes resulted in sometimes unbearable living situations for Bosnian refugees. One of my interviewees, who had been a professional in Bosnia, was placed by IRC’s job-referral service in one construction job after another. One job consisted of carrying cement bags. His colleagues, mostly Latin Americans, harassed him daily. The IRC did not heed his repeated requests for other job placements, however. The agency seemed to have forgotten the medium- and long-term objectives of the resettlement plan and threatened him with exclusion from the Matching Grant Program. By then, my interviewee considered himself “without direction,” depressive, and “suicidal.” One morning he went into the IRC office and told his caseworker that he would “bind dynamite around [his] waist to blow up [himself ], the IRC office, and the entire building” if nobody helped him find a different job. The situation was resolved peacefully. Certainly the case was an extraordinary example of culture shock; yet, within a deeply traumatized population of war refugees and concentration-camp and rape victims who had previously been professionals and had thriving careers, this response is not entirely unexpected.

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New Welfare Reform and Its Impact on Refugees Bosnian refugees, like other refugees in the United States, are eligible for food stamps, Supplemental Security Income (SSI), and Medicaid. Before the Personal Responsibility and Work Opportunity Reconciliation (PRWOR) Act of 1996, refugees were also eligible to receive Aid to Families with Dependent Children (AFDC) and to participate in Job Opportunities and Basic Skills ( JOBS). The PRWOR, however, eliminated AFDC, JOBS, and other emergency-assistance programs and created block grants for states to provide timelimited cash assistance to needy families. It also provided that elderly refugees who entered the country on or after August 22, 1996, were eligible for SSI for only five years. The Balanced Budget Act (BBA) of 1997 extended this eligibility period to seven years. Moreover, under the Temporary Assistance to Needy Families (TANF) program (enacted in 1997), states gained more power to design their own welfare programs.37 In local welfare offices, however, refugees are frequently confused with immigrants, most of whom are not eligible for SSI.38 Refugee agencies and caseworkers have recognized the steady reluctance of local branches of the Social Security Administration and welfare offices to include refugee applicants in public-assistance programs. In her New York office, Kathy Hawl emphasized that New York State was keen on keeping the welfare rolls as short as possible in the latter part of the 1990s: “If the refugees are eligible for TANF, give it to them. We are not talking about generational welfare [dependency] here—ha, ha!—give it to them! The federal government reimburses the state. . . . But they do not want to open the case so that they can keep the recipients’ numbers low.”39 In some cases, it takes refugees more than half a dozen trips to the local welfare office to ascertain which documents are necessary to prove refugee status before they are able to register for public assistance or SSI.40 Bosnian de facto refugees in Austria experienced similar treatment when applying for welfare services. There, however, the individual welfare officer’s responsibilities were clear, and although abuse of positions in the government bureaucracy is common, officials could ask for additional documentation but could not avoid their responsibility entirely. The “deny and distract” tactic in U.S. welfare offices reinforces the resettlement agencies’ objective of placing newly arrived refugees in jobs as soon as possible. If refugees received TANF, their participation in workfare programs frequently conflicted with their ESL classes or job-training schedules. The new welfarereform policies thus caused an additional handicap for Bosnians receiving public assistance on their way to self-sufficiency, rather than creating a tool to develop the skills needed for economic integration, argues Ellyn Reilly, head of CAMBA.41 Most Bosnians in my sample did not receive TANF or any other form of

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public assistance over longer periods of time. The experience of the twentyfive-year-old Bosnian Muslim Zaim, who arrived in New York from Sarajevo via Zagreb with DM 150 in May, 1995, is one example among many. Zaim did not receive any cash from his resettlement agency but started working as a busboy for $6.50 an hour and room and board at a Long Island golf club. In the winter of 1995–96, while laid off from this seasonal position, he attended an accounting course for six months (offered by the nonprofit organization Hellenic American Neighborhood Action Committee—HANAC) and received unemployment benefits. Zaim, however, continued working as a dishwasher for two days a week to keep his lodging at the golf club. By October, 1996, Zaim had changed jobs and has since worked as a housekeeper in a downtown Manhattan hotel for $20,000 a year. He is enrolled in one of the CUNY colleges for his bachelor’s degree and rents a one-bedroom apartment in Astoria, where he lives with his twenty-four-year-old brother and a friend. Zaim sponsored both of his brothers, who arrived in New York City in 1996 and 1998. Recalling his resettlement experience he stated, “They told me that it [would] take me three years to get settled and back to a normal lifestyle. And it took me that long. But I could bring my brothers over, which is good.” This young Bosnian seemed proud of his acculturation to New York City, which he achieved without public assistance. Meeting me on a Saturday at 9 p.m., he was very tired, having come directly from a twelve-hour shift. Similar to Zaim’s resettlement and social-welfare experience were those of the sisters Azra and Najla, Merisha’s family, and Damir, who arrived with his wife, daughter, and mother. None of them received welfare or public assistance. In fact, most Bosnians in my sample did not receive any substantial public assistance for long. Interestingly, the exceptions to this were not disabled or elderly Bosnians, as may be expected, but rather former professionals, such as medical doctors. In some cases, Bosnian professional couples were able to supplement their incomes with public assistance while one person in the family studied to pass state equivalency tests so that they might work in their profession in the United States. This was evident in the resettlement experience of Jasna, a Bosnian Muslim in her late forties, who arrived with her husband in New York City in November, 1994. Jasna explained, “My husband decided when we came here that he will not do anything but work in his field.” He had worked as a pediatrician in Banja Luka and had established a reputation as a good kidney-disease specialist in Bosnia. Jasna’s husband (now in his late fifties) could “study for the New York state exams because of [her] support and his ambition.” When she arrived in New York, Jasna, her husband, her two teenage sons, and her sister moved into the one-bedroom apartment that the family still occupied in 1999. While taking ESL courses—“I did not know a word of English when I came here”—Jasna applied for public assistance six times. Finally, she managed to get $500 a month in public assistance for her family for eighteen months. At — 66 —

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least a third of this amount, she remembers, was in food stamps.42 Every visit to the office reminded her of her refugee-camp experience in Croatia. She “began to cry a lot” and gained weight. For her, “the worst thing was public assistance.” She recalled, “It was really, really awful. I cannot describe it.” Since that time, circumstances for this family have improved. Both her sons earned scholarships to go to college, and her husband worked as a physician’s assistant while he continued studying for the numerous medical equivalency exams. Jasna, who holds a degree in economics and worked as an accountant in a hospital in Banja Luka, worked in Manhattan as an administrative assistant at a private high school. The vast majority of Bosnians in my sample, however, did not receive any substantial financial support (federal or state) beyond the initial PRM payment, and thus they had to put aside the desire to work in the professions in which they had been employed in Bosnia.43 They worked mostly in entrylevel and low-skill jobs during their first months in New York City. Thus, the resettled Bosnians’ initial encounter with the American free-market economy in New York strongly resembled the experience of Bosnian de facto refugees in Austria during their first months of acclimatization, but encounters with the two host societies occurred in rather different political, social, and legal contexts. While the resettled Bosnians in New York immediately held longterm residence status, their counterparts in Austria were perceived and processed as temporary residents. The latter were thus initially handicapped through restricted access to the job market and social services. When they finally found legal employment, however, a number of federal social services became available. This in turn aided Bosnian refugee women with children, in particular, in their adaptation and integration efforts. There are no similar social-relief schemes among the perplexing U.S. welfare policies.

Comparing Relief Schemes in Austria and the United States ased on differences between the Bosnian refugee-relief schemes and their institutional arrangements, an observer might conclude that Bosnian refugees in New York City enjoyed a wider range of acclimatization support, economic opportunities, and residence rights and thus integrated more successfully into society than a comparable group of Bosnian de facto refugees in Austria. This conclusion is too simplistic—at least in the short run. I am not rejecting the notion that in longitudinal evaluations the free-market economy in the United States might show more possibilities for professional and socioeconomic mobility than the current systems in Austria and the EU, especially for healthy, young, and well-educated Bosnians. At present, however, the settlement and integration processes of Bosnian refugees are too current to determine longitudinal outcomes. The reasons for greater potential for success in the United States than in Austria are complex and include

B

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Chapter 3

structural inequalities as well as widespread xenophobia against certain groups of foreigners in Austria. It is true that while Bosnian nationals received temporary protection and very limited residence rights in Austria, their counterparts in the United States held refugee status and full residence rights. Yet the Austrian Ministry for the Interior, in cooperation with the provinces through the Bund-Länder Aktion, provided refugees with health coverage and housing (and in many cases financial support) throughout the duration of the Aktion from May, 1992, to August, 1998. However, the highly regulated Austrian job market, controlled by the Ministry of Labor and Social Affairs reluctantly allocated about thirty thousand work permits to be issued to Bosnian de facto refugees over a threeyear period. When holding legal employment, Bosnians became eligible for unemployment benefits and, after March, 1998, for Notstandshilfe (emergency relief aid) because both benefits are based upon employees’ previous contributions to the Department of Social Security. Also, if Bosnians fulfilled the requirements of the Maternity Law, Law on Parental Leave, Law on Family Benefits, and the Law on Social Insurance, these benefits were granted to them just as they would be to Austrian nationals.44 The Austrian Ministry for the Interior and the Ministry of Labor and Social Affairs were the main sources of regulation and support (as well as frustration) for Bosnian de facto refugees in Austria. In the United States, the State Department and the Department of Health and Human Services implement the refugee resettlement program. Bosnians were eligible for TANF, food stamps, and SSI as the main welfare provisions. There were no benefits comparable to the Austrian family benefits or maternity leave provisions. With the 1996 welfare reform, substantial financial responsibility was passed from the federal to the state level, resulting in various state-directed welfare programs. In New York, for example, this included health benefits for every child. The complex system of public-assistance schemes in general has allowed for, and maybe has even encouraged, the sentiment and practice of “deny and distract” among local welfare offices. Although the same sentiment (possibly spiced with some xenophobia) could be found in Austrian social-service offices, the hierarchical structure of that system allowed for less denial through neglect because officers were more closely supervised by the Bosnier Aktion of the Ministry for the Interior and were well aware of their duties and responsibilities toward the applicant. In short, they may have harassed refugees for their lack of language skills, but in the end they could not deny family and other benefits to qualified applicants. Again, structurally, the difference between the United States and Austrian support schemes was simple. In the U.S. resettlement program, which traditionally relied on a public-private partnership, the government engaged in a very efficient outsourcing process. However, after the initial three-month support period, the agencies ended support for most refugees. Consequently, re— 68 —

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ceiving additional support, such as public assistance, became very difficult for individual refugees in the United States because there was no direct institutional link between resettlement agencies, local welfare offices, and individual refugees. In contrast, when Bosnians were admitted to the Bund-Länder Aktion, which largely relied upon existing local and federal governmental structures to aid refugees, they were registered by the Ministry for the Interior and guaranteed financial support and health coverage while they remained in the Aktion. The public support offered to refugees was not always wholly positive. It was characterized by a very rigid power relationship that seemed to make the refugees appear more helpless than they actually were. The result could be that the refugees were treated as incapable, a point made by Östen Wahlbeck in another context.45 Although public support for many Bosnians in my Austrian sample was minimal, they were generally pleased with the aid they did receive, and the Aktion and the subsequent labor legislation for Bosnian refugees undoubtedly led to some positive results. Besim, for example, states that “Austria is the best country for Bosnian refugees.” In his opinion there are a number of reasons for this, the most important being that Bosnians had no problems getting the limited public support that was granted to them. This stands in contrast to the experience of Bosnians in New York, where many of my interviewees faced problems getting the limited public services to which they were legally entitled. The complexity of resettlement and welfare programs in the United States contrasts with the clearly defined responsibilities of the Austrian administrative offices in charge of migrants and refugees. My assessment of the two countries’ support schemes and administrations supports Majka’s findings in her comparison of U.S. and British refugee-relief schemes. In short, Majka argued that the U.S. resettlement program was based on rigid efficiency controls, that is, it demanded that refugees achieve economic self-sufficiency, which did not involve other less measurable but nonetheless crucial elements of adaptation, such as cultural orientation.46 In contrast to the job-placement branches of U.S. resettlement agencies, the Austrian regional employment service was not responsible for Bosnian refugees’ job searches. Despite the sometimes substantial antiforeigner sentiment of parts of the Austrian public, the general provisions of the Austrian welfare state, which were open to all residents who met the requirements, aided Bosnian refugee women especially. The social-service programs that particularly helped women were not available in the United States, which increased the economic pressure on families, especially single mothers with small children. And, after the enactment of the 1996 PRWOR, public-assistance recipients in New York needed to participate in workfare programs. When finally allowed to work legally, Bosnians, however, were excluded from the Aktion and lost that financial support but became guest workers in Vienna. As legally employed guest workers, Bosnians became eligible for the — 69 —

Chapter 3

social benefits and residual rights granted to migrant workers, such as health insurance and family benefits. Gächter is certainly correct in labeling Austrian labor-market policies toward foreigners “forced complementarity,” because it is an ill-fated administrative effort to protect Austrian workers from the allegedly cheap competition of foreign workers. The underlying logic of this policy is that foreign nationals entering the Austrian job market can only supplement but never substitute for native workers in times of low unemployment. Bosnian de facto refugees experienced this discriminatory policy to the fullest. The Austrian welfare state, however, aided refugees through welfare provisions that were simply nonexistent in the United States. The national infrastructure of the Austrian welfare system allowed individual officers to “deny and distract” Bosnian applicants only to a certain point, whereas in the United States local welfare officers succeeded in almost totally denying access to welfare programs. Thus, although exposed to two vastly different integration policies—one relying on NGO support and controlling mechanisms, the other on governmental bureaucracies in charge of welfare distribution—Bosnians experienced their initial economic adaptation quite similarly in both countries.

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CHAPTER 4

Settlement Realities for Bosnians in Vienna and New York City

Uncritically accepting an arbitrary male viewpoint . . . has impeded study of women and of private domain. . . . We are caricaturing fifty percent of the Mediterranean world. —David Gilmore, “Anthropology of the Mediterranean Area” .

MORE SO than in the United States, the labor market in Austria is segmented by gender, as well as by nationality, and it initially provided differently for Bosnian men and women.1 Female refugees benefited from jobs available in the so-called female-intensive industries, despite their triple oppression— being subordinated by class, gender, and ethnicity. The literature on migration and emancipation has tended to emphasize that, through employment, female newcomers generally “gain greater personal autonomy and independence, while men lose ground.”2 Studies in the fields of migration and refugee studies have commonly implied a move toward more egalitarian gender relationships in the resettled group as a result of Westernization. I argue that Westernization, as identified in the tradition-modernity approach, has been the implicit ideological foundation for most studies on migrant and refugee women, leading to an ethnocentric perspective of migrant and refugee adaptation to Western host societies. The tradition-modernity view has been criticized by Marxist and other critical theorists, who traditionally emphasize broader units of analysis, such as socioeconomic classes. Current scholarship within the field of migration and refugee studies has assumed that during settlement both gains and losses (according to Western liberal standards of living) occur for refugee and migrant women. Numerous studies have ignored the implicit social continuations and changes that occur

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in the individual newcomer group and the group’s gender roles during settlement.3 To discover those changes, researchers would need to consider the refugees’ life experience before their flight into other countries. Lately, nonWestern migration and refugee-studies scholars have begun to emphasize that conditions that an outside observer might consider unequal, oppressive, or unjust in the newcomer groups do not always appear that way to the migrant or refugee women themselves. These scholars attest that sociocultural change, particularly under conditions of forced migration, is both more complex and more ambiguous than is assumed in linear models of refugee adaptation, but few have analyzed these complex adaptation patterns. Based on this premise, my purpose in this chapter is to focus on Bosnians’ social organization and socioeconomic participation and their individual psychological and social conditions in both host countries. The adaptation of refugees to their new environments depends not only upon the host society’s settlement-support schemes but also upon the refugees’ own efforts, the existing social structures, and the policies of the receiving society. By focusing on the public-private dichotomy as experienced by Bosnian women, chapter 5 elaborates on their notions of identity before and after their flight. In this chapter of the microanalysis I seek to illustrate refugee women’s socioeconomic and psychological realities in settlement. My findings do not support the popular arguments about gendered benefits in host communities. A number of case studies have shown that in certain patriarchal refugee enclaves in New York, such as the Cuban and Chinese enclaves, women derived fewer advantages from social networks than did their male counterparts.4 This was not the case for the Bosnian women in my samples. Indeed, a number of women used their networks very efficiently to gain, among other things, (illegal) jobs early on in the settlement process. In the next chapter, a historical analysis of Yugoslavia’s patriarchal structures and women’s methods for surviving the period of “institutional equality” there reveals the processes that led to Bosnian women’s particular selfunderstanding and their understanding of feminism. My findings do not support the conclusions of various liberal feminist works in migration and refugee studies that emphasize emancipation through wage labor. I attest that liberal feminist scholarship misses the point in migration and refugee studies by not giving historical and economic variables a prominent position in its analyses. It was predominantly economic necessity that pushed Bosnian women into the labor market and into low-skill and low-paying jobs; these women, however, held on to their traditional sociocultural understanding of womanhood. Bosnian women in exile, in short, work not because they feel the need to liberate themselves from their male partners but rather because they have no choice if they want to survive. Bosnian refugee women in the United States and Austria did not envision themselves as liberated and emancipated when they entered the paid work— 72 —

Settlement Realities for Bosnians

force but rather continued to perceive themselves in their traditional roles as mothers, daughters, and wives. However, this was, at least, in part the case because of the economic need to find work shortly after arrival, even if in lowpaying, low-skill positions. Thus, women and men who had successful careers in their countries of origin experienced a steep downward mobility in their host countries. Moreover, female Bosnian refugees were frequently forced into low-paying, low-skill jobs because they could not afford to attend acculturation programs, such as language schools, in the host countries. In most cases, the social-support and acculturation schemes were insufficient to provide the refugees with tools to improve their language skills enough to find jobs in their prior professions. Refugees instead had to worry about breadand-butter issues immediately after their arrival in the host countries.

Self-Perception during Acculturation: A Gender-Based Explanation espite the various differences between the two host societies, the socioeconomic profile of Bosnians in New York and Vienna is quite similar. Most refugees that I interviewed came to their host societies with their families, characterized themselves as belonging to the middle class in Bosnia, and many had held professional jobs back home. Bosnian women and men, however, acted quite differently in the two settlement communities. In both cities, virtually every Bosnian woman to whom I spoke worked, regardless of her age or her marital or socioeconomic status. This was not the case for all male Bosnian interviewees. The majority of Bosnian men, however, also worked in both host countries.

D

Bosnian Refugee Families in Vienna The majority of Bosnian women began to work (illegally) right after their arrival in the host societies. Selma worked as a cleaning women to support her children, and her husband Besim began studying German in Vienna shortly after their arrival. Besim soon began working and was promoted to head of the beverage section in a grocery store in 1999, whereas Selma still worked in housekeeping in a Viennese hospital in 1999. The story of Semsa, a twentytwo-year-old Bosnian Muslim from Rudo who arrived with her brother, Sead, in Vienna at the end of June, 1992 (after both had spent two months in a refugee camp in Belgrade), is similar to Selma’s story. While studying German and architecture, Semsa cleaned house for middle-class Viennese families because her brother could not find work. When he finally got a job in the construction industry, Sead’s hands became “too blistered to hold a spoon,” according to Semsa, and she decided that her brother should quit the construction job immediately. She wanted to work harder to provide the family income rather than see her brother in pain. — 73 —

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The stories of Azemina, Rijalda, and Irma, though in some ways similar to Selma’s and Semsa’s stories about their economic acclimatization, illustrate more pointedly some of the hardships. The Bosnian Muslim Azemina arrived in Vienna as a thirty-three-year-old woman with two children, while her husband, an engineer, remained in Travnik. He came to Vienna three times and tried to acculturate to the city. By the third time, Azemina, already living with the children in her own apartment, had even arranged a job and a work permit for him. In spite of all this, he returned to Bosnia. They are now legally separated from each other. Rijalda, a twenty-nine-year-old Montenegrin, came from Brcˇko to Vienna in June, 1992, with her Bosnian Muslim husband, Aljia, and their two daughters. Aljia, who had owned a sawmill and a café back home, was determined to open a restaurant in Vienna, but the restaurant failed, and he fell into a severe depression lasting two years. Irma, a fortythree-year-old Bosnian Serb, came from Doboj to Vienna with her Muslim husband and their two daughters at the end of October, 1992. Irma’s husband, who had been the manager of a plumbing company, wanted to return to Doboj by any means; in Vienna, he became depressive, alcoholic, and violent with family members. He committed suicide in Vienna in 1996. While Bosnian men frequently had severe difficulties adapting to their new communities and accepting their loss of social status, the women—in spite of their war experience and exodus traumas and the loss of social status for those who had pursued professional careers in Bosnia—adapted quickly to the new economic and social demands.

Bosnian Refugee Families in New York Bosnian women in New York had similar experiences to Bosnian women in Vienna. For example, Enisa, a fifty-year-old Bosnian Muslim from Sarajevo followed her older son to Astoria, Queens, in February, 1996. Her husband arrived in the United States in November, 1997. Referring to her husband’s perception of New York City, Enisa stated with certainty, “He does not like it here” and said that he did not have a regular job. To support her family, Enisa thus had to work as a cook and cleaning woman in a number of Bosnian pizzerias and bars. Enisa’s story is similar to that of Tarik’s wife, Ana, a Bosnian Muslim in her late fifties who arrived in Astoria, Queens, in 1998 with her family from Cˇaplina, Bosnia, after settlements in Croatia, Denmark, and California totaling more than four years. While her husband, a former marketing director, went to work as a journalist for a Bosnian weekly, where he basically worked for free, she took a job as a cashier in a drugstore and thus supported her family single-handedly. Arriving from Sarajevo with her family at JFK Airport in March, 1995, Sabrija, a thirty-nine-year-old Bosnian Muslim photographer and mother of two daughters, cleaned other people’s houses for two years. Her husband became an apprentice for a photographer in New York, where he literally worked for one sandwich a day. — 74 —

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In summary, then, the former bookkeeper Selma, the student Semsa, the social worker Azemina, the former housewife Rijalda, the manager of the municipal finance department Irma, and the photographer Sabrija—all these professionals—became cleaning women to support their families.

Gender and Identity The Bosnian women discussed in the previous section found ways to endure the discrimination of the labor market, the decrease in their social status, and the psychological humiliation frequently experienced because of their work. Furthermore, they often held (illegal and legal) jobs sooner than did their fathers, husbands, and sons in both countries. Although many Bosnian women were severely traumatized during the war and had difficulty articulating these issues, in their new settings they seemed to think of traumas in terms of problem solving and negotiation. To be sure, individual women expressed anger and despair in their interviews. Some felt that they would never be entirely happy again and others were frustrated that they had never received an apology for what had been done to them. In their narratives in general, however, women tended to disregard notions of ethnic identity and the politics of national exclusivism. They minimized or even joked about the humiliation and harassment they had experienced but emphasized their social and economic aims and achievements. Focusing on their friendships and their love for their children, these women spoke about their personal objectives in terms of individual security, comfortable homes, and dynamic strategies for finding jobs with higher salaries. They were deeply engaged in education, either their own or their children’s; the search for bigger, more comfortable apartments; the responsibilities of borrowing money;and the pursuit of better jobs or jobs in their former professions. Women’s self-understanding seemed to be marked by their experience of everyday life struggles—from their children’s sickness to their encounters with bureaucratic officials. Here lie the strongest points of contrast between the women and men I interviewed. The women I interviewed focused on their families’ futures and on compromises that could advance their social and economic acculturation, while men more frequently compared their current situation with memories of the past. The Bosnian men tended to link their identity to material possessions and social status. For example, Aljia’s narrative included many comparisons of his current life to his life in Brcˇ ko. He had been a well-known innkeeper, but in Vienna nobody knew him. Borrowing money and trusting each other was normal in Bosnia; in Vienna, Aljia was cheated out of the restaurant he tried to rent. He had been a respected person in Brcˇ ko, while in Vienna the foreign police harassed him and his guests with frequent searches during the year that he managed a restaurant. Male Bosnian refugees still struggled more than did their female counterparts with political events, the loss of their belongings and status, and the — 75 —

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war. They had more trouble accepting the exodus and status degradation than the women did. All Bosnians identify themselves as Europeans and since settlement have felt abandoned by Europe, a sentiment most often expressed by men. Muslim men frequently pointed out that Bosnians are “Europe’s Palestinians” and emphasized that Europe did not act according to its democratic responsibilities toward the Bosnian people. In their stories, the Bosnian Muslim men frequently focused on the effects of Serbian nationalist politics on their particular Bosnian identity, and on their sense of not belonging. The definition of the Bosnian people as a multicultural ethnic conglomerate of Bosnian Croats, Serbs, Muslims, and various other groups became the ethnic definition of Bosniaks, Bosnian Muslims, in these parts of their narratives. Ethnicity defined in a primordial sense—as an exclusivist marker based upon blood and land— frequently appeared in the men’s narratives.5 Through the war, exodus, and loss of social status and material possessions, however, it appears that important social and ethnic markers of Bosnian identity disappeared, especially for men. Many Bosnian men, regardless of age or education, either remained in a state of nostalgia or continued to wrestle with their experiences of the war, particularly those men who had been imprisoned in concentration camps or had spent a prolonged time as soldiers at the front. Therefore, many men’s adaptation to new social and cultural environments was not easy. One example is the thirty-two-year-old Bosnian Muslim Enes; he had arrived in New York City in December, 1994, and began to work as a housekeeper for La Guardia College. Soon afterward he had a work-related accident, began receiving disability payments, and could not work for months. He tried other jobs, such as dishwashing, cleaning hospitals, and painting. At the end of the interview, Enes explained that his suffering was far from over. He saw a psychologist for a couple of months in 1998 because of an incident on July 5, of that year. He had gone out and had a couple of beers on July 4. He was driving home at 4:30 a.m. when he suddenly “lost control” of his foot “after pressing the gas pedal.” He crashed into a basement apartment. When the police came they thought he was “dead-drunk.” The police wanted to arrest him, but Enes had a flashback of his imprisonment in Bosnia and ran. The police, however, caught up with him, charged him with drunk driving, and imprisoned him. Enes insisted that the blood test had shown that there had been no alcohol in his blood. As a consequence of this suicide attempt, Enes was put on antidepressants for months and had to see a “shrink,” as he put it. This would not be his last arrest or encounter with the New York Police Department. In U.S. jails, “they torture you mentally,” according to Enes. He was bitter and disillusioned about living in the United States and concluded: “Everybody is busy here. The way of living here makes you cold. They think just about themselves. It makes you feel lonely. People have weird relations here. I would like to go back to Europe. I want to get the U.S. citizenship and — 76 —

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then move to Holland. I love that country. My sister lives there. Here most people have problems. Few say that they love the country.” Although both his parents are dead, he wanted to go back to Europe. Because of their past experiences and the loss of social status, many Bosnian men still felt paralyzed, it seems, in limbo, unable either to move forward into a new life or to return to their roots. They lived in a world of memories, idle talk, jokes, folkloristic references, and parables. Out of dire need, women, however, were more likely to find inspiration and renewal in their encounters with Austria and America. Some of the oral histories of the married Bosnian women in my Vienna sample were more existential; three of them had lost their husbands in or after the war and one was separated from her husband. This was not the case for the interviewed women in the United States. Although some female interviewees in the United States had classified their marriages as unsuccessful, they had not yet attempted to file for divorces. Moreover, none of them had had the misfortune of losing her husband in the war.

Women’s Identity Construction through Socioeconomic Adaptations The relatively rapid acclimatization of Bosnian women in Austria was paradoxically advanced through a discriminatory labor-market policy, which at first entirely excluded Bosnian de facto refugees from the labor market, then gradually opened it, but only for unskilled laborers. That regular work and income was of quintessential importance for refugees, regardless of their gender, was evidenced by the refugees’ goals. Employment was given the highest priority, and professional, vocational, or academic training/studies ranked a close second in both the New York and Vienna refugee communities. Both Bosnian women and men in these cities emphasized their need for employment because only paid labor could provide a degree of socioeconomic stability and a foundation for upward social mobility. Moreover, Bosnian women never mentioned feminist desires or emancipation from their fathers, husbands, or families in this context. In the host societies, employment in any sector was crucial for both Bosnian men and women, because resettlement/integration and welfare schemes did not provide enough for entire families to survive.6 Based upon their own interpretation of the refugee situation and their construction of identity (manifest through cultural and religious traditions and emphasis on the family and children), Bosnian women realized that they had to be pragmatic and thus began rebuilding their future from the bottom of the economic ladder. In contrast to Enes’s distressing account, Bosnian women’s narratives frequently minimized the abuse and harassment they had experienced during the war and the exodus. This minimization may well come from the feelings of shame that these victims of violence had often experienced or from the need to suppress the abuses and to “continue living,” as one of my female interviewees put it. Instead, they emphasized their objectives and their children’s achievements. For example, in her narrative of — 77 —

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her adaptation experience, Zeljka, a petite Bosnian Muslim in her late forties who lived with her two teenage daughters in Vienna, explained that over the last couple of years, she had earned about ATS 11,000 (about US$850) per month. She lived in a forty-square-meter apartment for which she paid ATS 6,000 per month. To pay the realtor’s commission to rent the apartment in the first place and the monthly rent, Zeljka took out an ATS 100,000 loan. She began to clean apartments for middle-class Viennese on weekends and in the evenings, after her regular workday as a counselor, to repay the loan. Zeljka did not initially elaborate on her living situation in Vienna, but when asked to describe her current housing situation she explained in detail what she calls “kind of an ironic story”: These refugees come from Bosnia, usually considered a poor country; Vienna is the capital of a rich Western country. For Bosnians, to have a pleasant and beautiful home was always an important part of daily life. I grew up in a house that was a hundred years old, but my parents had installed plumbing for running water and built bathrooms. In every room there was a jug of water to wash one’s hands, necessary for one of our religious traditions. Some of my Orthodox friends, however, had their toilets outside the main building. In Vienna many Bosnian women were shocked by the apartments that were offered to them. Frequently, old buildings in Vienna have one or two collective bathrooms for a whole set of apartments. This was extremely shocking for many Bosnian women because of the importance they had assigned to living in a nice flat [with private amenities] as part of a good life. Criticizing the poor hygienic situation of many cheaper apartments in Vienna, Zeljka, however, carefully switched from her first-person narrative to one encompassing the living situation of “Bosnians” and “Bosnian women.” To justify the quoted comment Zeljka immediately explained that Bosnian women want to reach the same status of living they had had before the war started: “They are ambitious.” Moreover, for Zeljka, “refugee women are also realistic and want their children to remain in Austria. If possible they want to take care of their children in Austria.” Zeljka thus justified having to take on work as a cleaning woman to meet her ambition and her family’s needs.

St  S  S S: S N ot all Bosnian refugees, however, found themselves in Austria as strangers in a foreign country without help: their lot was eased not only by a substantial group of Bosnian-friendly Austrian citizens but also by about two hundred thousand Yugoslav guest workers who had been living in Austria, especially in the larger cities, since the 1960s and 1970s. These workers had ex-

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perienced similar social and economic exclusions through limited access to both primary employment and adequate housing, and had had similar racist categorizations and representations applied to their particular groups by policy makers and service providers. The means of exclusion reinforced migrants’ confinement to certain sectors of the economy and restricted their access to political and social rights. When asked about their initial contacts in Vienna, a number of my Bosnian interviewees, predominantly women, repeatedly referred to either the support of guest-worker circles or well-established Austrian individuals who had provided assistance and advocacy, including paying doctors’ bills and tuition for German-language courses, or provided housing, clothes, and jobs. For example, many middle-class Viennese families heard through word of mouth about reliable housekeepers or baby-sitters and subsequently hired them on an hourly basis. This in turn increased the networks and social circles of Bosnian women who met and often worked for five or six families. For Zeljka and other Bosnian women in my sample, these settlement links (lasting relationships with natives or other non-refugees) eventually led to permanent jobs and rather substantial networks of friends and acquaintances who could provide material and nonmaterial support when needed.7 Therefore, networks linked many female Bosnians to crucial support and provided for often illegal, unskilled, and low-paying jobs.8

First-Asylum Links Reminiscent of Austria’s generous aid to Hungarian refugees in 1956, Austrians in general felt that both the Croats in 1991 and the Bosnians in and after 1992 were despairing neighbors in need of help. Not only guest workers from the former Yugoslavia but also numerous private Austrian citizens, churches, companies (including some banks), and nongovernmental organizations (NGOs) were generous and supportive toward the Bosnian refugees. Private Austrian individuals provided Bosnians with jobs, legal or illegal, language and job training, and tuition assistance. They also frequently opened their own homes to them. All Bosnians who had experienced this hospitality expressed gratitude. Semsa explains that her encounter with Irene, an Austrian national, changed her from an “apathetic refugee” into a student first of German and then architecture: “When I got to know Irene, suddenly everything made sense. She asked me if I wanted to study.” Semsa enrolled in a German course for Bosnian refugees. She quit the course after a short time because she disliked the Croatian teacher who was “sarcastic and chauvinist” but decided to study the language on her own. Finally, she enrolled in a German course offered by the Österreichische Hochschülerschaft, the main organization for Austrian university students, and Irene paid the tuition. Similarly, explaining her first-asylum links, Rijalda praised her host family:“We lived for three years with the Sager family. This was a super, super experience! Others did not have that much luck. My own siblings would not have helped me that much. From — 79 —

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the first day on we were accepted as family members. My daughters were accepted as if they had been Ms. Sager’s own. People don’t believe it when I tell them about our experience with the Sagers. We ate together, we went out together. . . . Nearly every weekend we did something together, for example, we went swimming or ice-skating. Mr. Franz and Ms. Emi are like grandfather and grandmother to my children.” Rijalda still referred respectfully to her former hosts using the formal Herr and Frau Sager or, when referring to them on a first-name basis, Herr Franz and Frau Emi. The hospitality that the hosts showed her family was very much appreciated by Rijalda. Rijalda insisted during the interview that when her seven-year-old daughter, Asemina, had to go to the dentist or when they needed something, she would ask Ms. Sager for help. Although they might have experienced extraordinary hospitability, Semsa’s and Rijalda’s experiences demonstrate how some Bosnian women created settlement links with native individuals. The resulting relationships provided some women in my sample with the foundation on which their personal inclusion in Austrian society would be built. These reciprocal relationships are more outstanding when one considers the stereotyping and rising antiforeigner hysteria and xenophobia that has come to affect people in Austria and elsewhere in Europe.

Job Placements through Asylum Contacts The Bund-Länder Aktion, like refugee-integration schemes in general, was dominated by Austrian authorities’ preoccupation with first providing for thousands of Bosnians in reception camps in the short term. After it became clear that the war would not be over in a matter of months, the authorities became more interested in possibilities for long-term integration, understood entirely as economic self-sufficiency. They did not give any particular attention to the social or professional needs or the existing and continuously growing networks between Bosnians and guest workers or private Austrian citizens. Yet, because of the spontaneous assistance of local people, both Yugoslav immigrants and Austrian nationals, Bosnian refugees in Vienna seemed to have established substantial material support and meaningful relations. The group of Bosnians who avoided the Austrian refugee camps and those who left those camps soon after arriving were especially quickly drawn into informal personal networks. About two-thirds of the total Bosnian refugee population stayed in private accommodations outside the camps for the duration of the relief scheme and developed contacts with natives. These “first asylum links,” in Katherine Valtonen’s terms, provided considerable material and intangible help. The context of personal interaction in which this support was offered acknowledged the humanity of individuals in the midst of otherwise dehumanizing events. In the refugees’ first-asylum environments, informality and interdependence were important bases for relations.9 In Vienna, particularly the Bosnian women in my sample and the female — 80 —

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Yugoslav guest workers found that they had much in common during the initial period of Bosnians’ integration in the first half of the 1990s. Through their understanding of themselves as daughters, mothers, and wives above all else, Bosnian refugee women and female guest workers in Austria quickly created support networks, discovering commonality in their daily socioeconomic struggle rather than discord as enemies in the ongoing war. Referring to their first contacts, Bosnian women in my sample frequently mentioned female Yugoslav guest workers who had been living in Vienna for decades, often without legal residence status. The latter tended to be employed in low-skill jobs but knew how the Austrian welfare system and society functioned. Moreover, not only did many guest workers’ households accept Bosnian refugee families during the Bund-Länder Aktion but female guest workers also frequently provided Bosnian women with access to (often illegal) jobs. Thus, whereas the bureaucratic Aktion organized the reception structures to ensure equal access to the meager services and benefits for the refugees, the majority of Bosnians in my sample, living in private accommodations, were introduced to new relationships through their host families or other social venues, such as parks, cafés, or other meeting places. While referring to the misfortune of not getting a work permit, the Bosnian Muslim Danijela, for example, explained how she got her first job: “A friend, a Croatian guest worker, who is a nurse, convinced me. She told me that, whether I get a work permit or not does not matter too much. She knew about a job I could get.” Through the connections of her Croatian friend, Danijela soon began working in a grocery store. Irma, the Bosnian Serb who was married to a Muslim, began to provide for her husband and her two teenage daughters by working for a housekeeping company. Her employment, offered to her by the company’s Serb owner, was illegal during the first couple years. While working full-time, Irma enrolled in a six-month bookkeeping course, which included German-language and computer-skills training, quickly gained her work permit, and began working as a bookkeeper for the housekeeping company in March, 1999. The initial employment history of Iskra, Amra’s mother, a Bosnian Muslim who arrived with her family in Vienna in September, 1992, is similar to Danijela’s and Irma’s. She worked from shortly after her arrival until January, 1999, “as a cleaning woman for a rich Austrian widow who had been married to a Serb,” according to Amra, who worked part-time with her mother. Thus, Amra, then barely of legal working age, got an illegal job and began to clean the homes of upper middleclass Viennese families with her mother. Marija, a Bosnian Croat in her fifties who fled Travnik after her husband was killed, became a housekeeper and baby-sitter for a young guest-worker couple, a position that provided her with not only a meager income but also room and board. When new positions became available, female guest workers, at that point often promoted to supervisory positions, frequently recommended Bosnian friends. Ethnicity played a substantially less important role in these networks than — 81 —

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it did in the United States. Female Yugoslav guest workers and Bosnian women quickly developed a network in which information was circulated about housekeeping jobs in private households and other illegal positions. In Austria, first-asylum links frequently provided the job placements that were the responsibility of resettlement agencies in the United States.

Socialization in New York City: A Lonely Experience While volunteer agencies provided them with crucial services such as job placement, the Bosnian refugees in my New York sample remained more isolated from other Yugoslav expatriate communities, migrant communities, and American citizens. Instead, Bosnians in New York adhered to kinship and other close relationships with relatives and friends. These intense group relationships have been referred to by Valtonen as “webs.”10 The social, economic, and cultural spheres of the web overlap considerably so that individuals sustain many reinforcing ties in immediate circles. In these circles Bosnians interacted holistically—in several capacities with the same people. For example, Natasa, who owned a Bosnian grocery store in Astoria, Queens, interacted with her environment, consisting nearly exclusively of her Bosnian clientele and friends, mainly by using traditional structures and rules. Natasa was a forty-two-year-old Bosnian Muslim woman who left her home in Brcˇko with her family, moving first to Germany and then to New York. In 1998 she opened a Bosnian grocery store in Queens and worked ten-hour days seven days a week. In her store she was not only owner and salesperson but also social networker for a number of other Bosnian women in the neighborhood. In addition, she fulfilled her role as a mother there because her daughters often came to chat, eat, and socialize with her. Natasa, however, saw herself as alienated from her home country because of the war, and she sought to become economically integrated in Astoria. She also realized, however, that she would never “fit into Astoria” entirely. Possibly in response to this alienation, she felt responsible, for example, for passing on Muslim religious and cooking traditions to her daughters. Natasa’s life centered entirely around her store, and her social relationships were based upon interactions in the store. In her web of relationships she found continuity, security, (some) reciprocal support, inclusiveness, and an intact identity as the Bosnian grocery store owner in Astoria. Some authors portray the web as a social network within a high-context society. For D. C. Herberg, for example, the kin networks are substantially conterminous with the society and define who one is as well as what one’s lifelong mutual rights and obligations are. Individuals from high-context societies are accustomed to interaction in a medium of prior understanding and to established patterns of relationships.11 A number of Bosnian women in New York moved from low-context to high-context societies. Sabrija, for example, worked as a housekeeper in private households in Manhattan but — 82 —

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eventually returned to her husband’s business, working as his newspaper editor and not earning an income. She insisted that she liked her housekeeping job very much because she cleaned the homes of “rich and famous people who were very nice” to her. In her job as an editor, however, she said, “I have found myself here.” In the low-context society of her work in Manhattan, Sabrija could express very little of her own identity and obligations and the rights that derived from her family. As a housecleaner she would have needed to negotiate her place or develop her context in each new situation and to continue that process over the long term. Her editing job, however, provided Sabrija with the stability of a clear identity as the publisher’s wife and editor, with the affirmation of interacting almost exclusively with other Bosnians. For many Bosnian refugee women and men in New York, these relationships emerged as the main buffer against the harshness of the conditions in resettlement. As such, it was naturally an important locus of cultural transmission (as supported by Valtonen) and remained both socially and culturally significant for the members.12 Moreover, it is evident from my research findings that while members’ ties to the web may have suffered from dislocation, they were not broken.

Diaspora Elements in Web Relationships The strongest and most emotional webs included refugees and their relatives left behind in Bosnia. The dual orientation toward both the country of origin and the country of settlement is not as contradictory and paradoxical as it might first seem. For the refugees, their country of origin and country of exile, as well as the time before and after the flight, constituted continuous and coherent lived experiences. According to Wahlbeck, the separation between these different frames is largely “forced” onto the refugee experience by outside observers.13 Bosnian refugees’ relations to their society of origin were not only a matter of memories; they were also often facilitated by frequent visits, electronic communication, and telephones. However, in contrast to the Palestinians’ situation, for example, the Bosnian refugees in my sample were not collectively committed to the maintenance or restoration of their original homeland. Feeling rather ostracized, Bosnians were disillusioned and disappointed by what had become of their once beloved and, as one of my interviewees put it, “truly multicultural” country; many no longer dreamed of returning home, and few if any were committed to a Bosnia restored to its previously safe and prosperous state. Most Bosnians in my sample believe that the homeland Bosnia no longer existed as they had known it. They continued to relate personally to Bosnia though, and their consciousness was largely defined through webs connecting them to kin left behind in Bosnian towns and villages or in the diaspora. — 83 —

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Elements of Change and the Wish to Assimilate ocial relationships are not stable or stagnant. They are constantly in flux. Bosnian refugees expanded their social relationships continuously by incorporating new acquaintances. Valtonen described the concept in which outsiders and other elements of change are introduced into the web as “syncretic webs.”14 Syncretic webs are part of the transnational links of a diaspora. For Bosnians, the syncretic web comprised close circles that were partially coextensive with the original web but that had been broadened, as the refugees gained experience of their host society, to incorporate new contiguous elements, such as interactions with resettlement agencies or refugee-camp workers or acquaintances in their new neighborhoods.15 Nearly every web eventually turns into a syncretic web. The younger generation of Bosnian women, many of whom had professional careers in New York lived in syncretic-web environments. The twentyfour-year-old Bosnian Muslim Sanella, for example, worked as a resource developer for an NGO in Manhattan. Through her job, she had developed a number of relationships with American and other coworkers. Her main social group, however, was still her family and a group of Bosnian friends who had fled from her hometown of Tuzla to New York, a few of whom she had known since high school. While pursuing her professional career and taking community college classes in the evenings, Sanella had expanded her daily social network to include a large number of acquaintances. Nevertheless, she talked to her family daily and on weekends socialized nearly exclusively with Bosnian friends. Sanella, however, defined herself as an eager assimilationist. She worked very hard to fit into the culture of New York and wished “to become American” as thoroughly as possible. She did so by energetically focusing on her professional career and by changing her appearance (e.g., frequently changing hair color and style) and lifestyle (e.g., mingling with the natives in Lower East Side bars and cafés). Moreover, she sought to perfect her English to make her accent undetectable. Well integrated economically and socially, Sanella had proceeded well beyond the original friendship and family network into both transnational and local syncretic-web relationships in New York but also sought to assimilate entirely into American culture. The syncretic web became particularly important for younger and professional Bosnian women in New York. The disposition of the syncretic web, linking individual newcomers with outsiders, that is Americans or individuals from other webs, approximated the first-asylum links in Vienna. Syncretic webs and first-asylum links provided networking possibilities that could eventually be turned into settlement links.16 With the exception of a few elderly Bosnian men who either lived in refugee camps in Vienna or in close family communities in New York and thus rarely spoke German or English, almost all male Bosnians in my sample had

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created syncretic webs as well. Most Bosnian men in my New York sample who socialized in syncretic webs also wanted to assimilate. One of my interviewees, the Muslim Nenad who was in his mid-fifties and had arrived in New York from Sarajevo with his wife and two daughters at the end of 1995, explicitly expressed a wish to assimilate: “If I go to the mountains I will bring skis. If I am in a river I will swim. You have a choice: stay here or go back.” For him, no conflict existed between his wishes to integrate totally and to raise his children according to Bosnian tradition. He explained, “I am here to become American;I want my kids to become Bosnian.” Later in the interview he stated that he believed “you have to blend in because if you don’t you will not survive.” Also Zaim, having left his family behind in Sarajevo, explained how he actively sought to integrate into his own ethnic group, saying: “I went to Astoria networking” on each day off work. He reflected, “All the people I know, I know through my own efforts. There is not much time; everybody has to work. Now, after living in New York for four years, I feel I am an expert here. I don’t feel like a foreigner. There is [however] no comparison between New York and Bosnia.” Asked to clarify what kinds of comparisons he was referring to, Zaim replied, “I don’t think that many Austrians want to come here and live here.” While he was very aware of his “refugee-ness” and foreign status in New York, he actively sought to create intra-group relationships with other Bosnians, some of whom became friends. Zaim considered life in Sarajevo, life in Europe, more satisfying than his life in New York, because he believed that “European life is better than American life.” He continued, “It is slower; people here are stressed. They get nuts. Life is really fast here.” He recalled that creating, in essence, both intra-group and syncretic-web relationships with Americans and other ethnic groups was hard work for him. Still, he insisted, “Ninety percent of my friends here are Bosnian and 10 percent American.” He, however, felt that he was sufficiently integrated into American society. Less than a year after I met him, Zaim fulfilled his dream of working in television, producing a show not in Sarajevo, as he had originally planned, but in New York City. Zaim’s story can be understood as an example of refugees’ attempts to achieve a career in exile while not entirely abandoning their desire to return, at least as temporary visitors, to their country of origin. Both Zaim and Nenad sought to integrate into society: Zaim into the Bosnian group in Queens, and Nenad into American society.

Experienced Discrimination of Bosnians in Austria No Bosnian refugee in my Austrian sample expressed hope of assimilating into the host society. Even with Austrian citizenship, Bosnians knew that they and their children would remain aliens in that country. The Austrian perception of home (Heimat) as a special place connected to nature and a particular landscape is based upon a notion of community (Gemeinschaft), like membership within an imagined ethnic community, that — 85 —

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excludes all foreigners (Ausländer), even if they have Austrian citizenship. Terms such as “Heimat,” which had become obsolete after its misuse under Nazi rule, were given new, socially acceptable meanings in late-twentiethcentury Austria. Farmers, as the original population of the Alpine and flat areas in Central Europe that constitute the Second Republic of Austria, for example, see Heimat—traditions and the land—above everything else. They seem to defend it constantly in quarrels with their neighbors and are suspicious of strangers in general. This Austrian exclusivism was most pronounced in the patriarchal societies of country dwellers up until the 1970s. When married into farmers’ families in a neighboring village, women were (and in certain locations, still are) considered outsiders for their entire lives, while their children are accepted into the village community. In those structures, individuals are judged both by what they have achieved (which is also crucially important for the possible acceptance of foreigners in the community) and by where they and their ancestors came from, even after generations of residence. The term Ausländer, however, refers not simply to the English word “foreigner” but also literally to “someone who belongs outside.” In their everyday encounters with Austrians, most of the Bosnian men and women experienced a cultural gap, where stereotypes continued to hinder successful social interaction with the receiving society. Bosnians were often seen as guest workers who were “uneducated,”“did the dirty work no one else wants to do,” and came from the “barbarian Balkans.” Such stereotypes usually do not differentiate between Turkish, Kurdish, Serb, or Bosnian guest workers or refugees. The Catholicism of Croat and Slovene guest workers distinguishes them from their southern neighbors because the Croats and Slovenes are frequently seen as a “civilized and modern people.” The majority of Bosnian men in Vienna articulated in their interviews that they had experienced xenophobia or racism in Vienna. No women in my sample, however, referred to such abuses. It may be that these women were generally not in places where such incidents occurred, for example, bars or other public meeting places. Surprisingly, many interviewees in Vienna still did not regard the xenophobia of the general Austrian population as a problem. Men frequently remarked that they did not see the discrimination that they had experienced in their personal life in Vienna as being very serious. (Considering the extent of documented blatant racism toward foreigners from Southern/Eastern Europe, that is rather extraordinary.) Perhaps their experiences of war, concentration camps, genocide, and institutional discrimination by Austrian bureaucrats made these xenophobic attacks appear minor. The discrimination that refugees experienced at the hands of some Austrian officials was, to them, much more substantial than what they experienced in the streets and public places of Vienna. When talking to Mr. Pfann, head of the Viennese governmental office for social questions (MA 12), a city office that supported Bosnian refugees in Vienna, he emphasized the acculturation — 86 —

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problems of Bosnians:“There are a number of cultural problems with Bosnians in public camps in Vienna. For example, we cannot account for meal preferences based upon religious faiths. . . . It is not my fault when they [the Bosnian de facto refugees in camps in and around Vienna] don’t want to eat Schweinsbraten [pork roast].”17 Schweinsbraten is considered a gourmet meal in Austria and is traditionally prepared on Sundays. Bosnian Muslims, however, do not eat pork and were put in a difficult position because it is not polite to turn down a host’s offering. The institutional discrimination against guest workers and other non-EU member states’ citizens is substantial in Austria. For example, Samir explained from his numerous encounters with officials: “The people are nice, but the politicians are horrible. The residence-permit procedures are a Schikane [chicanery] with all those papers and procedures. It is impossible to get them all complete to the officials. And after hours of waiting in line, when they then tell you that you don’t have this document or that document, you have to start all over again.” Samir emphasized that being at the mercy of bureaucratic arbitrariness in Vienna was “inhumane” and, for refugees, the worst form of discrimination against foreigners: “It has been a five-year-long fight for survival. . . . After five years I got my unrestricted visa. Now citizenship is not that important anymore.” Citizenship is a matter of practicality for Bosnians. It increases their ability to travel and provides them with a permanent residence permit. Samir’s residence document, which every Austrian resident must have, has the letter “A” (for Ausländer) imprinted on it, he said. “The same law was applied during the time of Jewish persecution in Austria,” added Samir. This kind of discrimination included not only administrative encounters but, often, everyday experiences. Aljia concurred with Samir’s emphasis on institutional discrimination against foreigners. He remembered one night when he had his restaurant and a “drunken policeman” pulled his gun on him because Aljia did not have a sign prohibiting alcohol consumption by underage customers. Aljia had to pay a substantial fine, but the authorities did not care about his complaints concerning the drunken, armed policeman. Thus, the institutional and administrative stigmatization of being a Bosnian refugee or guest worker remained substantial for many Bosnian men. No equal-opportunity laws exist in the Austrian labor market for refugees or other long-term residents. Referring to his numerous job applications, most of which brought a negative response, Besim described employers’ discrimination against foreigners: “When I wrote the letters, everything was clear. At that point they did not know that I was a foreigner. They invited me to interviews. During the interviews, however, everything I said was wrong. Therefore, they did not have to hire me. [That’s why] Austria has no workers . . . or too many students.”18 Thus, while the majority of Bosnian refugees in my sample had experienced actual systematic discrimination, Besim and Samir emphasized that they — 87 —

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did not feel alienated from Austrian society. For Besim, Bosnia once belonged to the Austro-Hungarian empire. The Habsburg empire initiated a period of cultural and economic booms in Bosnia. Besim stressed that, in his view, Bosnia was a European country and might still belong to the Austrian monarchy if the country had not been split up after World War I.19 Samir saw himself as willing to integrate. But he felt that greater integration would not be possible because of both the institutional and the socioeconomic discrimination that he experienced daily. Like most others in my Viennese sample, Samir and Besim were both keen to integrate. Both, however, realized that total integration into Austrian society was not possible for them or their children.

The Newest Arrivals: Migrating Bosnians group of younger Bosnian men arriving in New York in 1998 and 1999 seemed to have been involved in and most heavily reliant upon their relationships with Bosnian friends. Valtonen labeled these friends “compatriots in fate.” This category describes relationships with other persons who shared the same convictions and commitments and experienced the same risks and hazards.20 In contrast to Valtonen’s findings, my research did not indicate a particularly strong relationship among former prisoners of concentration camps or exilees in refugee camps in first-asylum countries. Perhaps for those who survived detention in concentration camps, their experiences were too traumatic and painful to be relived regularly through enduring relationships. It appears that rather lengthy involvement in the war, as soldiers or policemen in cities under siege, created the strongest compatriots-in-fate structures among young male Bosnian Muslims in New York. A substantial group of young Muslim men living in New York City who had served in the war had been sent by their families to the United States after Dayton on the premise that they would provide for their families back home in Bosnia. These young men, many of whom could not complete their education in Bosnia because of the war, had experienced severe risks and unique traumas during the war. In New York they preferred to socialize with others who could relate to them and had shared a similar past. While working as carpenters, construction workers, or plumbers, their social interaction with other former soldiers on the weekends was, for many, the only interaction of substance with other people. Moreover, some of these compatriots in fate shared apartments with each other. Characteristics of the compatriots in fate were, for example, a lack of English-language skills and both a strong orientation toward their hometowns in Bosnia and a bitter disillusionment with Bosnia, its government, and its people. Members of this group frequently expressed severe homesickness and a bitterness about being away from their mothers and families; they dreamed, for example, of home-cooked Bosnian meals. Yet, they harbored a resentful disgust for and aversion to the state they

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had once defended. The former soldiers rarely talked with each other about their past war service or about their losses in the war. This phenomenon is well known. For example, many World War II veterans in Germany and Austria would not talk about their war experience because of either tremendous emotional distress or guilt. Moreover, to talk about one’s war experience could, for the young Bosnians, undermine compatriots’ macho identity, which included, for example, bragging about the money they earned in their current jobs or the cars they owned. On weekends, when the group socialized in cafés and bars, or at parties and barbecues, conversation was mainly about their experience in New York. As the latest arrivals, they were less integrated into the American way of life and therefore still fell prey to feeling misunderstood and disoriented in New York City. It is evident among these individuals that the bonds formed during war outlasted the vicissitudes that had given rise to these bonds in the first place. It is too early to evaluate whether the compatriots in fate will remain in New York or eventually return to their places of origin. The compatriots, however, more than any other group, wished and planned for their eventual return. This corresponds to the established myth about guest workers from Yugoslavia and Turkey in Western Europe: guest workers had desired for decades to return to their home countries but (to the chagrin of officials in the host countries) did not return permanently. A similar phenomenon may eventually occur with the compatriots in fate in New York.

Creation of New Identity Boundaries: Class versus Ethnicity hile women’s narratives focused on interactions with their families, their colleagues at work, and (particularly in Austria) guest workers from the former Yugoslavia, male Bosnians’ narratives seemed to discuss their experiences more in terms of win/lose situations (e.g., Aljia’s losing his restaurant in Vienna). Their self-understanding was closely linked to their material losses during the war. Men, especially in Vienna, still felt hurt. In Austria, women more so than men created networks that grew to incorporate more and more Bosnian refugees. These networks were interrupted by conflict between different social classes rather than between ethnicities, often resulting in clashes in the work environment. Azemina explained the underlying problem: “There is a great deal of discrimination among colleagues. Decades ago, women who were not well educated had to leave [Yugoslavia] to find jobs in Western Europe. Now these women have been in Austria for twenty years. They are not Bosnian women but women from other parts of the former Yugoslavia. Bosnian women traditionally took care of their families and rarely left their home province. In companies [the older guest-worker women] are the bosses or lead the cleaning teams. Therefore, the bettereducated [refugee] women have to work according to the guidelines that the

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less educated give to them.” The class differences especially caused conflicts for women working as maids. Bosnian women, many having professional backgrounds, repeatedly endured severe humiliation and discrimination from the working-class women of other ethnic origins. The support of Bosnian women by (and the conflicts with) women in the Yugoslav guest-worker community and Austrian individuals stood in contrast to the encounters between a number of Bosnian refugees in New York and Americans and members of other ethnic groups from the former Yugoslavia. Jasna, for example, explained her disappointment with the Bosnian and former Yugoslav communities in New York:“When I came here, I dreamed that I would help other Bosnians and create a Bosnian community. I was really disappointed. There are many different people here. They belong to different groups. About two hundred thousand people from Serbia and Montenegro live in New York. They make good money but are poorly educated. They have their own way of thinking. In the beginning they helped Bosnians a lot, too. But then they changed their mind when they realized that we are ambitious and have legal [residence] status. When they realized that we would receive the green card, they became jealous. They kept their traditional old behavior from the countryside.” Jasna referred to the dichotomy between country and city to rationalize problematic encounters with immigrants from the former Yugoslavia. My research supported Jasna’s statements that firstasylum links were not—or at least not to any considerable degree—created among Yugoslav immigrants and Bosnian newcomers in New York. This might have been because of resentment in the immigrant communities, or because of immigrants’ fears that the newcomers, who had green cards, would jeopardize their own socioeconomic position, as Jasna believed. Two additional factors may have contributed to the climate of distrust and antipathy. First, most Bosnian refugees arrived in New York after 1993, when the war had fully extended its violent and ethno-nationalist potential, and had polarized the Yugoslav people. Thus, many nationals from the former Yugoslavia and refugees and immigrants abroad may have been exposed to and persuaded by nationalist propaganda. Second, the fact that the Montenegrins remained closely allied with the Serbs throughout the war resulted, for many, in “long-distance nationalism,” according to Benedict Anderson. Montenegrins, Serbs, and Croats created in New York—where ethnicity is, next to income, perhaps the most important identity marker—a harbor for their own ethno-national identities. While attempting to contrast patriotism and nationalism as two types of political loyalties, Lord Acton created the aphorism that “exile is the nursery of nationality.”21 This saying is true for the ethnicgroup differentiations of New York City’s Balkan population. Acton believed that nationalism arose not from whatever homeland had nourished people but from the experience of exile, “when men could no longer easily dream of returning to the nourishing bosom that had given them birth.”22 A sort of — 90 —

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dubious, quasi-biological displaced identity developed among New York’s immigrants from the former Yugoslavia and later, to a less refined degree, among Bosnian refugees. Antipathy between Bosnian women and female Yugoslav immigrants rarely developed in Austria maybe because the Bosnians’ de facto status did not include any preferential treatment by the state. On the contrary, although they received the bare minimum for survival, Bosnians were not granted continuous residence or work permits during their first months or years of residence in Austria (chapter 3). The general trend among female Yugoslav guest workers to include female Bosnians in their networks did not preclude particular women of both groups expressing their antipathies openly and refusing to include the war enemy in their lives. In general, however, female guest workers in Vienna sought to provide their female Bosnians cousins with what they needed most: housing and jobs. Such fruitful interactions did not occur to any significant degree between male Yugoslav guest workers and male Bosnian refugees in Vienna or between Montenegrin and other Balkan immigrants and Bosnian refugees in New York. Bosnian men, like many Yugoslav guest workers, identified with their individual ethnic groups, their regions of origin, and the politics of ethnonationalism, rather than with their families and traditions, as women did. Besim explained his antipathy toward Serbs: “The Serbs say we Bosniaks [nationalist term for Bosnians] are Serbs who are followers of Islam. We have been misdirected, confused by the Turks. But then I do not understand why they want to cut my throat. We [Bosnians] are not afraid of others but they [the Serbs] are. And a people that is afraid is dangerous. We Bosniaks mix into our culture what we like from other cultures. That is why we have been rich. . . . Then the propaganda began, as in the times of German fascism. You can find Goebbels’s ideology in Milosˇevi´c’s and Tudjman’s speeches.” Even the Bosnian men who left in the spring of 1992 and who had not seen combat in their villages and towns were engaged in their home country’s politics and in the war. Similarly, among the male Yugoslav guest workers, antipathy and anger toward members of other ethnic groups involved in the war were—at times—high. Rumors frequently spread throughout Vienna that a number of wealthy Croat restaurant owners were in the process of creating weapon depots in their apartments for eventual shipment to the front. Aljia once said, “If I am walking on this side of the street and I see a Serb walking toward me on my side of the street—I cross over to the other side.” Thus, there was a substantial amount of friction, based on ethno-political grounds, among male members of different ethnic groups in Vienna. Men much more than women seemed to be conscious of this and believed that it had a substantial influence upon their lives. Men also talked more about the political situation in Bosnia, Bosnia’s relations to Europe, and the history of the war. Men from the former Yugoslavia living in host countries, it seems, were much more interested in the current events — 91 —

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in their home country, while women were more concerned about the effects of war on family members and friends left behind in the home villages and towns. For men in my sample, then, this manifested itself in an increased nationalism, be it Serb, Croat, or Bosniak. In New York, nationality was more important to Bosnians than class issues. For example, Zaim cynically stated, “Nowadays everybody wants to be Bosnian.” He referred to a group of Yugoslav immigrants that the “real” Bosnians call “PGs,” standing for Plav Gusinge, a small Montenegrin village bordering Bosnia. Zaim explained that many Montenegrins, especially from the area around Plav Gusinge, emigrated to the United States in the 1960s and 1970s. Many of them had entered the United States illegally and had always had lowpaying, low-skill jobs. Now, according to Zaim, who considered himself a “real” Bosnian, those PGs were trying to pass themselves off as Bosnians. Therefore, as of 1999 there seemed to be a radical rift between not only the established Croat and Serb communities and the Bosnian newcomers but also between the “real” Bosnians and the PGs, which included people of Montenegrin origin. While Bosnians in New York City were only infrequently able to interact socially with Americans, some Bosnians in Vienna cultivated long-lasting networks with Austrians. Web and syncretic-web networks were the dominant social relationships in New York, while first-asylum and settlement links could be considered the most advantageous networks, especially for Bosnian women, in Vienna. Paradoxically, in Austria, Bosnians experienced a rigidly structured and state-controlled support scheme that from the outset afforded little room for social interactions with the natives. One could argue that the media hysteria about the “tide” of Bosnian refugees “overrunning” Austria had positive effects by mobilizing the awareness and humanitarianism of a group of private citizens in Vienna. Possibly because of the particular social patterns that were quite unfamiliar for Bosnians in New York City—for example, the lack of time and the degree of stress that New Yorkers seemed to experience daily—not all Bosnians there frequently interacted with Americans. This was true, as we have seen, even though the settlement schemes in New York were organized by NGOs, which depend on national funding but otherwise remained responsible for the integration of refugees. Moreover, the most concentrated Bosnian community is located in multicultural Astoria, Queens, which traditionally has been a magnet for newcomers. Bosnians in Astoria share the streets with Greeks, Pakistanis, Indians, Russians, and many other immigrant nationalities. If they also work in Queens, Bosnians might not meet too many “real Americans,” as one of my interviewees put it. Thus, many Bosnians in my sample were not quite satisfied with their integration into New York’s society. In Austria, Bosnians realized that, as Samir put it, “higher integration” into — 92 —

Settlement Realities for Bosnians

Austrian society was not possible because of existing institutional and socioeconomic discrimination and xenophobia. Inter- and intra-group integration into the Yugoslav guest-worker and Bosnian communities, however, was possible for many Bosnians (especially women) in Austria. Moreover, through their first-asylum links many Bosnian women in my sample not only arranged their first jobs but also created lasting, meaningful relationships (in resettlement links) with native Austrians. In contrast, professional training programs and job placements, instigated by NGOs such as the Hellenic American Neighborhood Action Committee and the Church Avenue Merchants Block Association, were the only ways that Bosnians could make acquaintances. In these programs and in English-language courses, most of the other participants were newly arrived refugees from other areas of the globe. Looking for a job often forced women to network in Vienna, whereas job searches were performed by the voluntary resettlement organizations in New York and, therefore, Bosnian women in New York did not have this networking experience. New York resettlement procedures have been characterized by voluntary agencies’ focusing on job placements in a multicultural setting, where interpersonal acts of altruism or humanitarianism may not be crucial or common. There were a number of different responses to the limited opportunities for contact; for example, while a group of young professional women sought to integrate entirely into New York’s society, a relatively recently arrived group of young men, the compatriots in fate, remained largely isolated from the dominant society. According to the findings from my New York sample, women tended to socialize in web, syncretic-web, and settlement-links networks, and to use them to mobilize resources as well as to find emotional support. In contrast, men often used syncretic-web networks and compatriots-in-fate relationships to socialize and relax. Moreover, it seemed that the men were more interested in recreating some aspects of traditional Balkan culture, in particular, socially mingling with like-minded individuals in cafés. I found gender-specific variations in the consciousness of refugees, in the way they sought interaction, and in their continuous relationships with the homeland. The newcomers’ reception in their host countries saliently influenced these variations. Men more so than women experienced feelings of displacement for longer periods of time. This finding supports Safran’s observation that refugees “continue to relate, personally or vicariously, to that homeland in one way or another, and their ethno-communal consciousness and solidarity are importantly defined by the existence of such a relationship.”22 The women continued to care for and relate to their relatives and friends in Bosnia but tended to see the political situation there as less significant than their husbands and fathers did; men, especially, saw themselves through a newly “invented” ethno-communal identity, which in New York City, in particular, was still in the making. They were very interested in Bosnia’s political — 93 —

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situation, the Balkan region, and the role that Europe and the United States played in the wars. In contrast, Bosnian women were focused on improving their current lot. Bosnian men seemed to have experienced the war and the loss of material belongings and social status more severely. They often experienced a kind of psychological nausea and lasting depression. In the best cases, they found employment after attending language and special-skills courses. In the worst cases, they remained unemployed, became alcoholics, or left their families. Although most women in my sample also had experienced a severe loss of social status and worked jobs in tourism and the maid-service industry in their host countries, many expressed a more hopeful outlook in their narratives than did Bosnian men. Women focused on being “Bosnian in Austria” or “Bosnian American” with all the associated social, cultural, and economic dilemmas and hopes. Exodus and adaptation to the host societies led to increased independence within their families for a number of Bosnian women, as a number of liberal feminists in migration studies have documented. In my case study, increased independence for many women occurred because they had either separated from their husbands who chose to remain in Bosnia, or had tragically lost their partners during the war or in settlement. Many Bosnian women earned a substantial portion of the household income. Natasa, who had become an entrepreneur by opening her own grocery store, explained: “I need the money for my children.” I have argued that these women adapted faster and more easily than the men to the host environments because of their own self-understanding and their traditional roles and social position in the former Yugoslavia. They employed first-asylum and later settlement links with Austrian citizens and/or guestworker families. Most of the women in my sample did not want to return to Bosnia, mainly because of their children, many of whom had lived nearly their entire lives in the host country and knew Bosnia only through stories and short vacations. The realization that life had changed in Bosnia and that most friends had died or left the country were also part of their decisions to remain in Austria or the United States, decisions that seemed to have been made by the women and children, rather than by the husbands and fathers. In comparison to Bosnian men, the women defined their Bosnian identity more through cultural and religious traditions, such as traditional methods of preparing and consuming food (“this stupid habit of sweet and salty layers,” as one of my interviewees explained) or, for Muslims, fasting during Ramadan. Thus, the women understood their own ethnic and gender identity independent of physical geography, primordial ties, or even political categories. The women’s energies and ambitions were focused on the dynamics of processes that, they anticipated, would improve their families’ social and economic lot while their identity remained grounded in the traditional values and norms and sociocultural behavior patterns of life in Yugoslavia. — 94 —

CHAPTER 5

Bosnian Women’s Social Position in the Former Yugoslavia

Mothers earn love and devotion, fathers our respect! Our mothers are angels, our fathers devils. Mothers advise and console, fathers command. Mothers suffer for their children, fathers fight for them. —Andrei Simic, ´ “Machismo and Cryptomatriarchy: Power, Affect, and Authority in the Traditional Yugoslav Family”

THE COMMUNIST models of working women that have influenced many female Bosnians are retreating, while the older essentialist ideas about the sexes are reemerging and advancing in refugee communities. There is, however, no public debate concerning those changes in either the countries of origin or in host societies. Moreover, Bosnian refugees, male and female, face new socioeconomic and psychological pressures in the host communities that may lead one to see gender issues as unimportant and minimal. I argue in this section that the older models of ena (woman) and therewith the traditional or patriarchal models of womanhood, while they never really disappeared during socialism, continue to influence not only the self-understanding of Bosnian women but also the expectations of their families and partners. While the male-dominated public sphere lost significance during the secession wars, household chores, traditionally perceived as female work, became essential for the survival of the family during the wars, particularly in areas under siege. Women’s ability to adapt in times of crises is exactly what has allowed Bosnian women to endure hardships. However, this struggle also gave the traditional notion of self-sacrificing motherhood a new significance.

Chapter 5

Women’s Liberation and Its Subversion through Patriarchal Traditions rom 1943 to 1980 in Tito’s Yugoslavia the promotion of greater equality between the sexes was an explicit objective of the Socialist platform. As in the Soviet Union and other Socialist countries, an organizational monopoly existed under the auspices of the party itself, the League of Communists in Yugoslavia (LCY), also called the Communist Party of Yugoslavia (CPY), and its transmitting organization, the Socialist Alliance of Working People of Yugoslavia (SAWPY). Sabrina Ramet argues that at the very center of the LCY’s position on gender equality and other social issues was that all progressive forces should work within the program of the LCY.1 It did not recognize a separate question of gender relations because socialism promised to solve all basic social problems; working outside party channels was interpreted as unnecessary, indicative of a lack of faith in the party, and potentially counterrevolutionary. Thus, any activity organized outside the official platforms of the LCY and SAWPY could be seen as, in Tito-era jargon, anti-self-management and working against the entire party program.2 Feminists who refused to subordinate their cause to the party program were perceived as working against the goal of gender equality and thus—in essence, counterproductively—promoting patriarchy. Although feminists in Yugoslavia choosing an autonomous route risked social ostracism and political persecution, women’s liberation and equality remained a crucial plank in the party platform and one of the primary aims of Tito’s regime.

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Women in the Labor Force and Government The inconsistency between the theoretical “institutional equality” of the sexes and the practical lot of women in Yugoslavia’s social, economic, and political environments became apparent when Yugoslav scholars pointed out two unresolved structural problems. First, women tended to work in particular economic sectors, such as the textile and leather industries, tourism, health care, and elementary education rather than participating in all sectors of the labor market equally with men. Second, even though women played active roles in the partisan resistance movement during World War II, in postwar Yugoslavia they remained severely underrepresented in leadership bodies, such as the party hierarchy, delegate system, and self-management councils.3 Thus, in 1980 about 80 percent of employees in social services and textile industries, and nearly 75 percent of health care personnel were women.4 Despite the official party line supporting incorporating women equally in public offices, women’s political participation and representation in the bodies of power remained limited. Among the 468,175 members of the LCY in 1948, only 93,604 (roughly 20 percent) were women: Ramet points out that they represented only 9.7 percent of the delegates to the Fifth Congress of the — 96 —

Bosnian Women’s Social Position

LCY and only 4 percent of the deputies to the federal assembly. While women constituted 52.8 percent of registered voters in 1950, their representation in political offices actually fell between 1948 and 1952; female representation on local administrative committees decreased from more than 19 percent to about 13 percent, according to Ramet. Their representation in the LCY Central Committee lingered around 14 percent in 1985.5 These statistical data emphasize the gap between the official party objective of achieving institutional and representational equality and the real position of Yugoslav women. While Yugoslavia had some of the most progressive legislation in the world regarding women, the laws had little effect on the de facto inequality of women.

Feminist Progress in Legislative Terms Women in Eastern Europe did not engage in a discourse of selfreappropriation—here understood as reconstructing women’s own history, identifying the coordinates unifying women’s condition in varying contexts, debating the origins and implications of differentiation in gener roles and sexual identities, and attempting to change the latter—as Western feminists did, primarily because the Communist states provided neither legal nor public arenas for debate. The Socialist states of Eastern Europe had legalized abortion in the 1950s, and in 1969, according to Ramet, the federal assembly adopted a resolution on family planning, establishing that families had the right to determine how many children they wished to have. Yugoslavia’s fourth constitution in 1974 confirmed this policy. The legal text itself, however, stands out as a remarkable example of the double standard employed by the LCY concerning women’s issues: it emphasized the patriarchal structures of society by referring to “the right of man to freely decide on the birth of his children,” and stating, “This right can be restricted only for the purpose of health protection.”6 By describing the underlying patriarchal structures in the Yugoslav state, this text articulated the legal basis of women’s subordination to men’s decision making; a woman was allowed to terminate her pregnancy when it was considered the best choice by her husband. As the wording of the 1974 constitution demonstrates, many of the rights de jure granted to women remained de facto subject to men’s discretion. Thus, while the official rhetoric emphasized the equality of the sexes, in reality Yugoslav women continued to live under patriarchal rule. Older social and cultural norms and values also kept many Yugoslav women in their “proper” place, where they could not rid themselves of the biological or essentialist attestation of sexual differences, as Western feminists did.

Bosnian Women in Socialism and Traditional Patriarchy Despite the official rhetoric about sexual equality, a division between the private and public spheres was maintained during the period of workers’ selfmanagement in Yugoslavia. Moreover, the Yugoslav family, like families all — 97 —

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over the Balkan and Mediterranean area, has traditionally been characterized by patriarchal customs. For example, women typically prepare and serve meals to the family, which usually includes the extended family. For one of my male Bosnian interviewees, the following “joke” emphasizes the traditional Yugoslav sociocultural view, according to which women ought to perform the household chores: An American, an Austrian, and a Bosnian woman sit together and complain about their husbands. The American woman argues that her husband came home drunk and she decided she would no longer cook for him. The first day, she did not notice anything different. Nor did she on the second day. On the third day she noticed that he had hired a cook. Since that day, says the American woman, she has not cooked. The Austrian women tells a similar story. Her husband came home late one day and she decided to quit cooking for him. After a number of days he too had hired a cook, and the Austrian woman no longer had to cook. The Bosnian woman explains that her husband too came home drunk a couple of days ago. She also decided to stop cooking for him. She did not notice anything different on the first day, or on the second day. On the third day, however, she noticed a black mark over her left eye. While the Bosnian husband told this joke, his Bosnian wife sat beside him, listened, and smiled politely at the punch line. For some authors, cultural stereotypes expressed through, for example, jokes, sanction abuse of and violence against women in families. Moreover, Mirjana Morokvasic emphasizes that a double standard was dominant in Yugoslavia throughout the latter half of the twentieth century. Vera Erlich argues that in the Balkan region, wife beating was such a part of the prevailing ethos that a woman who had never been beaten might consult her doctor, thinking that there must be something wrong between her and her husband. Morokvasic emphasizes that some fathers still consider the birth of a daughter a family tragedy, for which the mother is seen as “responsible,” whereas they boast of a newborn son, which he “made.”7 These behaviors and stereotypes were engineered in the Balkan (and other Central European) societies generations ago and—combined with the norms of socialism and consumerism—have remained influential in the various Bosnian social and ethnic groups today. Indeed, what Andrei Simi´c has called “machismo and cryptomatriarchy” allowed the male population to find certain social outlets in violence or chauvinist behavior while those means of expression remained impossible for women.8 Yugoslav women’s roles in society have been the focus of little systematic sociological or anthropological research. Moreover, as Morokvasic points out, few writers have dared to generalize the complex cultures and societies that — 98 —

Bosnian Women’s Social Position

once characterized Socialist Yugoslavia, a country that exhibited a broad spectrum of regional and ethnic variations, as well as distinct rural-urban and socialclass differences.9 During the Socialist era, at least the upper and middle classes in Yugoslavia were influenced by the official rhetoric of institutional equality and emancipation. According to writers such as Bianca Petkova and Chris Griffin, during communism the family was typically represented as a harmonious “micro” unit of society in which partners’ relations were based on love and mutual support.10 Moreover, Bosnian writers, such as Indijana Hidovic Harper, have stressed their independence and emancipation because they were brought up in harmonious extended families, which some authors consider to be one influential dimension of community life for the Bosnian Muslim middle class. Hidovic Harper argues accordingly:“Brought up in a small town in Bosnia, with both parents working, looked after by my grandmother, cocooned in the safety of a large extended family and a small-town, closely knit community, a European with the distinction of belonging (albeit in a secular way) to a unique religious minority, I was raised to enjoy all the privileges of financial affluence, good education and the tolerant liberal environment of my social class.”11 Hidovic Harper furthermore names the benefits and achievements of (mostly middleclass) women in Socialist Yugoslavia. She explains that she grew up in a family with three generations of working women, her personal choices were wide open, and, before the war, she became a “woman of her own making.”12 She confirms the official Communist view emphasizing the family and kinship ethos, which was traditionally prominent among the Yugoslav and Mediterranean peoples. Hidovic Harper’s description of her youth and of the roles of women in her family was not typical for most women in the former Yugoslavia and characterizes only one small part (the well-educated elite) rather than the majority of the farmers and workers in that society. As in other Socialist countries, women’s emancipation—notably their enhanced participation in production, which in theory would bring them economic independence and liberation—consisted in reality of working a “double day.” Along with a full-time job in the factory, school, or office, women had to manage the home, look after their children, and remain socially and politically active. Thus, the ideal Communist woman had, for Petkova and Griffin, a quality referred to as “social activism” that was to allow her to develop her potential and personality fully. The term applied to women who, being actively involved with the collective at work, also became better mothers. Petkova and Griffin emphasize that “women who had no children and whose interests ‘selfishly’ lay solely in the home (a bit like ‘housewives’ in the West?) were dealing a ‘severe blow’ to their ‘social activism.’” Lingering patriarchal views upheld the expectation that women worked “men’s jobs” with a “feminine touch.”13 One result of this particular view has been that all Bosnian women I met seemed to put an astonishing emphasis on looking professional even when coming from their cleaning jobs. Thus, women in the labor — 99 —

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force in the former Yugoslavia and in exile today not only bear the double burden of working in and outside the home but also must appear feminine and womanly throughout their hectic days. Bosnian women in exile are influenced both by their new host environments and by traditional role models and behaviors that continued to dominate Yugoslavia’s patriarchal society throughout the twentieth century.

Roots of Womanhood in Yugoslavia imi´c argues that as a product of the historical processes of corporate and anti-individualistic ideology, the contemporary Yugoslav family stands in sharp opposition to the ideal of the independent nuclear household so touted in most of Western Europe and North America. The author emphasizes that this contrast is not necessarily one of form and composition but rather one of conceptualization: Yugoslav people tend to view the family not as an entity isolated at one moment in time but rather diachronically as one stretching endlessly backward into the past and forward into the future, “the generations flowing almost imperceptibly one into the next without sharp ruptures or discontinuities.” Therefore, lifelong mourning, for example, is not unusual, particularly on the part of older women who are seen as the arbiters of ritual propriety, according to Simi´c.14 Peace activist and Women in Black against War founder, Stasa Zajovic, refers to the philosopher Vujacic to explain the social position of women in her native Montenegro:“Female qualities are especially evident in a woman (mourning, wailing): A mourning song renders evident not only the emotionality of a woman but also her ‘natural’ right to judge the events and people. She appears in several roles through a mourning song—as guardian and a builder of morality.”15 For Zajovic, women in Montenegro are oppressed, at best. Her childhood memories are filled with images of women in black clothes. Women in black symbolize, for Zajovic, the “impossibility of choice, the ultimate picture of life without colors, without nuances.”16 Women are seen within the culture as mothers and guardians of morality and death. The subordinate position of women has been enshrined in rituals. Morokvasic describes the following rituals as distinctly subordinating women to male rule: a woman kisses the hands of old men; she takes her husband’s and her father-in-law’s shoes off and washes their feet; she serves the table, standing by while they eat, and never eats with them.17 Those customs, to be sure, express respect and extreme deference toward male members of the family. In marriage the bride becomes a new member of the groom’s family in the traditional Southern Slav patriarchal society. As in other rural cultures in Central and Southern Europe, the newly wed woman has an inferior social position in the family, at least until she gives birth to a son, according to Simi´c. The basis of the patriarchal system is the extended family and is found in all parts of the Balkans and the former Yugoslavia except in the Catholic and relatively

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wealthy Slovenia. A subsistence economy developed around the family, and the married couple and their children—the nuclear family in the Western sense—had a specific place in it. Simi´c’s sociopsychological concepts of “machismo” and “cryptomatriarchy” are based on the ethic of kin or family cooperation and interpersonal dependency within the family on the one hand and patriarchal traditions on the other. Thus, the wife initially enters the husband’s home as an outsider, and according to Simi´c, during her first years of marriage is “unprotected by children of her own who, upon their birth, will be full members of their father’s lineage.”18 And as in other rural societies in East-Central and Southern Europe, even after marriage, little communication, positive affection, or companionship between the couple is expected.

Effects of Guest-Worker Migration upon Women Simi´c emphasizes a number of differences between Yugoslavian and other rural cultures in Europe. First, in Yugoslav society, the marriage constitutes an exclusive relationship only in the realm of sexuality and procreation because it is at all other times subsumed in the context of the larger kinship group.19 Second, the position of women in the lower socioeconomic classes changed when, as a result of industrialization, more men began to commute to factory jobs outside their village or even emigrated to gain employment in other European countries. Moreover, Yugoslav women’s participation in the workforce has traditionally been as unpaid labor on farms in the country’s large agricultural sector. This and other informal female work therefore does not appear in formal labor-participation statistics. In 1976, according to Morokvasic, half of Yugoslavia’s population was rural, while a third lived in “mixed households.”20 As in the mountainous areas of other European countries, such as Austria or northern Italy, these mixed households drew their subsistence from both agriculture and industry;at least one member worked in industry while the household derived part of its income from agriculture. In her case study of the Central Bosnian village she calls “Dolina,” Tone Bringa emphasizes that most households there did not own sufficient land to be economically viable, although most had plots of land where they grew vegetables. The majority of the village’s households were mixed households. Influenced by increasing labor migration, the change from subsistence to wage labor took sixty to eighty years in Dolina, typical of Central Bosnian village society.21 One result of this process was the feminization of agriculture; while most men found work in nearby factories or moved to other regions or to Western European countries to become guest workers, women took over the agricultural part of household production. These women, however, were not registered as wage earners in official statistics. The number of women and men in Yugoslavia working in agriculture declined in the second half of the twentieth century. The first wave of migration from Yugoslavia occurred during the economic reform in 1965, after the — 101 —

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“economic miracle” had produced, in Western and Central Europe, average annual growth rates of up to 8 percent throughout the 1950s. Thus, these countries were seeking cheap, unskilled labor. One result of this migration, according to Morokvasic, was that more women than men worked on Yugoslav farms in the 1970s.22 More husbands found work in factories in Yugoslav cities or abroad, and women continued to run the farms. The 1971 census showed that there were more than 750,000 workers abroad;ten years later, in 1981, this number had increased to 874,968. Between 1971 and 1981 the number of emigrants from the poorer and less-developed areas of Yugoslavia increased substantially: Montenegrin migration increased by nearly 25 percent and Central Serbian by 33.5 percent. Analyzing data from Yugoslavia’s Federal Bureau of Statistics, Iren Gabrity Molnar found that in 1981 alone, 327,289 people (3.3 percent of the total population) emigrated to Western European countries.23 This substantial emigration of Yugoslavs left a socioeconomic void that had to be filled by others, often women. Moreover, it put the Socialist country and the LCY in a peculiarly unique position. The LCY, as the only Communist regime that tolerated substantial emigration, saw workers’ departures as easing the negative effects of labor surplus and overpopulation, especially in rural areas where agriculture could no longer provide sufficient employment. Furthermore and most importantly, the country benefited from the foreign currency that emigrants sent home. This was especially significant in Yugoslavia because Yugoslav guest workers in Europe frequently returned home to their families. This behavior pattern differs, for example, from that of Italian immigrants to the United States at the turn of the twentieth century, many of whom returned to Italy only after earning enough money to buy farmland. In contrast, Yugoslav guest workers in Austria returned home during traditional holidays and spent their vacation time there but periodically returned to Austria for work.24 In extended families the absence of one member is not as traumatic as in nuclear families. Simi´c argues that the absence of husbands did not necessarily bring hardship and unhappiness to their wives and families: “A twenty-nineyear-old Belgrade woman with three children replied with great surprise when questioned if she missed her husband who had been working in Libya for almost two years: ‘Why should I? I have my children and my mother and father.’”25 One of the Bosnian women in my sample, however, was troubled by the absence of her husband, who had worked cyclically in Germany between 1972 and 1996 when he was not teaching art at a high school in Brcˇko. She brought up two children alone while her husband worked as a tile layer in Germany. What annoyed her was not the frequent absence of her children’s father (one of her daughters explained that “we did not know him before we left Brcˇko” in 1997); rather, this woman was deeply disappointed because she found out that her husband had betrayed her and was with another woman while abroad. Nevertheless, she did not consider divorce, and the family was — 102 —

Bosnian Women’s Social Position

still intact. She remained bitter and distressed about this incident but considered her husband’s long-term absence from the family not a sign of an unsuccessful marriage but an indication that they were fulfilling their proper roles—his to provide a respectable income and hers to provide and maintain the home for the family.

Sociopsychological Links within the Family In the traditional Yugoslav family, the young wife cultivates unusually strong links with her children, especially her sons, according to Simi´c. Both Simi´c and Morokvasic refer to Erlich’s studies published in 1971 and 1976, which stated that especially in the early years of a marriage few emotional and communicative ties exist between a woman and her husband and his family, and thus the young wife attaches herself to her children.26 Also common in other rural areas of South-Central Europe, the particular affection for sons has been bound to their inheritance of the father’s property. Bringa describes how in Dolina, inhabited by Bosnian Muslims and Croats, young women strengthened their bargaining positions with their husbands and in-laws. After giving birth, a young woman becomes a mother and by implication fully a woman, a ena.27 The success of the son’s marriage depends to a great degree on the ability of the daughter-in-law to get along with her husband’s mother, who is, in the final analysis, the arbiter of her excellence as a wife. She has to be patient until she too has succeeded in creating a similar position through the medium of her own sons.28 Erlich emphasizes that “a mother ties herself to her son in the battle against the dominance of his father” and her in-laws. Her son also constitutes the principle weapon against the demands of the mother-inlaw because he provides the status and pride of grandparenthood.29 These particular relationship patterns in Yugoslav families are not reminiscent of the ancient patriarchal and suppressive Balkan culture but are common in farming areas in all Western societies. Focusing on the life of rural women in southern Italy, Ann Cornelisen describes the unusually strong links between mothers and sons:“Once a woman has power, however slight her influence appears to be outside the family, she consolidates it into a hold over her sons stronger than that famous boast of the Jesuits. Only death will loosen it, but already her daughter-in-law has learned the art of day-by-day living and day-by-day power and has tied her sons to her as firmly as though they were still swaddled.”30 In contrast to the sons, who elevate their mother’s status, daughters are of lesser social value in traditional rural societies because they almost always marry into other households. Zajovic emphasizes that “people still say that having daughters is the same as not having children at all, that daughters are ‘other people’s dinner.’”31 It is when the son becomes an adult and assumes his social place within the family and community that an aging mother can exert influence and power. Thus, it becomes evident that men and women experience different life — 103 —

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trajectories, with men attaining most power in middle age and women gradually accruing greater authority, influence, and prestige as they grow older. One of my male interviewees in his late forties confirmed the shifting power relations in his family:“Between twenty-five and forty-five a man is king. After forty-five, his wife is king and he becomes a farmhand.” Simi´c argues that the middle-aged wife frequently assumes the role previously occupied by her mother-in-law, and in this way, the asymmetrical power relationship that typifies a young couple is reversed. For him, a woman can accrue great prestige, authority, and autonomy, especially after the death of her mother-in-law because her husband transfers the dependency he felt toward his mother to his aging wife.32 Simi´c and Morokvasic agree that the generally particularistic and personalistic nature of Balkan culture, of all ethnic groups, did not significantly diminish under Marxism, economic development, and modernity. According to both authors, its patterns remained constant through the tremendous socioeconomic mobility that occurred after World War II.33 The system of intensive reciprocal ties between family members and kin continues to provide individuals who might be living in areas of the former Yugoslavia, in other European countries, or in the United States with what is perhaps their most vital resource in the struggle for success or simple survival.

Macho Culture Transplanted While the social position of women steadily increases with age in traditional Yugoslav communities, men seek a number of outlets that allow them to distance themselves from their families and mothers. What Simi´c called “machismo” might be expressed through extravagant demonstrations and dramatizations of masculinity in public places, such as bars or cafés. Spending large sums of money; brawling in local bars; exhibiting hostility; drinking heavily, usually in the company of a small group of male friends but sometimes also prostitutes, “bar girls,” or female singers; and destroying property, such as tableware and chairs, are some of the core elements of macho behavior, according to Simi´c.34 Similar behaviors can occasionally be observed when groups of young male Bosnian refugees in New York City get together on weekends. During my fieldwork in New York, a number of stories circulated about the bravery, endurance, and fighting skills of a group of young male Bosnian Muslims from Sarajevo who accidentally entered a Croatian bar one night in July, 1999. Half a dozen Bosnian men in their early and mid-twenties, most of whom had fought in the 1992–95 war, faced a roomful of young Croats. After some provocative words were exchanged, glasses were thrown, and soon the fighters were using tables and chairs to attack one another. The Bosnian storyteller did not fail to emphasize that the casualties on the Croatian side were triple the casualties on the Bosnian side by the time the police finally broke up the fight — 104 —

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and arrested those involved. What was more striking than the story itself (whether it was true or not) and what illustrated the dimensions of macho culture was the storyteller’s insistence that the fight was provoked by a Bosnian man, disregarding both American legal norms against violence and rowdyism and the broader perception of Bosnian refugees as victims of a political and militantly nationalistic war. Instead, the storyteller wanted to emphasize the male prowess and stamina of his Bosnian friends. Frequently, Bosnian men made considerable sacrifices to accentuate their manhood. For example, some men lived with three or four other people in tiny apartments (mostly in Astoria, Queens) so that they could save the money to own a luxury car, thereby demonstrating their financial success. A substantial number of young Bosnian men drove BMWs or Audi 5000s. Possessing recognized status symbols such as cellular phones and luxury cars seemed to elevate men’s self-esteem. For many Bosnian men, when those symbols of success were absent—during their flight and asylum—their self-esteem suffered. Melitta Sunijc, the press secretary for the UNHCR in Vienna, mentioned similar behaviors among male Bosnian refugees in Austria who sought very early on in their residence in Austria to reestablish their self-esteem with material possessions. A number of Bosnians purchased used Mercedes cars early in the settlement process to demonstrate their economic success or upward mobility. This, however, alienated the native population. According to Sunijc, there were a number of cases, especially in the Austrian countryside, where Bosnian fathers drove through their host village in a Mercedes shortly after their children received free clothing, schoolbooks, and other charity from the local community. This behavior at times resulted in conflicts between newcomers and natives, heated debates at bar tables, and local prejudice toward and ostracism of Bosnians in certain rural Austrian areas. For instance, Catholic Austrians frequently misunderstood this machismo (and Bosnian men’s often anxious need to demonstrate their questionable—in natives’ eyes—economic success) as chauvinism.35 Furthermore, Bosnians refused to act according to some people’s expectations: as the poor, helpless, grateful (and groveling) victims of war; rather, they tried to escape this image as soon as possible by proving to their own group, as well as to outsiders, that they were economically independent and were becoming acculturated to the new society by leading what was considered a socially and economically successful life. The expressions of status through monetary and material symbols is closely linked to the Yugoslav guest-worker tradition. When guest workers returned once or twice a year to their families and places of origin, they displayed the economic success they had—which, in reality, was frequently less than moderate, at least according to Western standards—using the same kind of luxury and consumer goods that Bosnian refugees used in Austrian villages, Vienna, and New York City. While the behavior of the men in my sample conflicted with Austrian Catholic and rural traditions of simplicity, it rarely provoked — 105 —

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conflicts in the American capitalist and consumer-oriented host society. One could argue that Bosnian men adapted quite appropriately to the American free-market system by becoming consumers. These exclusively male behaviors are rooted in the same social phenomenon that Simi´c calls machismo.

The Power of Motherhood Any dramatic exhibitions of male prowess almost always occur outside the family. There is a rigid segregation of “masculine” activities from family activities.36 Regarding Yugoslav American males, Lorelei Halley observes: “A mother’s continuing control, coupled with interior distress at one’s own dependency and bondage (which undercuts one’s honor), and deep resentment at the perpetual and unpayable debt (including the deeply felt obligation to support one’s mother in all her conflicts, even in conflicts between her and one’s wife) could at times provoke outbursts of rage.”37 The mother provides a perfect conceptual counterpart to the image of the aggressive and heroic male. The power of this maternal image is rooted, for Simi´c, in a moral superiority derived from selfnegation and suffering based on a mother’s devotion to the well-being of her children at the expense of other forms of self-realization.38 Here lies the root of Bosnian mothers’ motivation to provide for her children and to improve the family’s circumstances quickly during settlement by any means necessary. The theme of the martyred and self-sacrificing mother is deeply imprinted in the culture and appears repeatedly in Southern Slav epic poetry. A very dramatic and demented example of this self-sacrifice is found in the epic Zidanje Skadra (The Building of Skadar). King Vukasˇin, with his two brothers, orders the building of the city of Skadar, but the construction is threatened because female nature spirits constantly destroy their work. To appease these spirits, the wife of one of the brothers is entombed in the city walls, leaving behind a small son in the cradle. However, because of her pleas, openings are made in the masonry so that her breasts are left free to nourish her small son. Even after she dies, the milk continues to flow until the child has grown up. Later, a spring of “healing water” appears at the site.39 This juxtaposition of the conceptually irresolvable imperatives of machismo and the authoritative mother within Balkan culture confirms, according to Simi´c, the existence of society as “an equilibrium between opposing forces” (à la Max Weber) in Yugoslavia.40 For other observers, it might not substantiate a true equilibrium between the sexes but rather point toward a compromise based upon the rigid division of spheres and duties enshrined in a traditional family ethic.

Redefining Private and Public Spheres onsidering Simi´c’s ideal-typical description of the power mosaics in Yugoslav families, it becomes clear that the equality of the sexes through the Socialist constitution and LCY efforts failed. These constitutional, legal, and

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political norms had only a limited effect on the position of women in Yugoslav society. Their position was defined instead by traditional values and cultural and social behavior patterns that remained dominant in the private sphere. It is precisely in the private domain where the grip of patriarchal values remains most tenacious, according to Morokvasic. A demarcation of the private sphere never occurred, or, to put it in feminist jargon, the personal never became political, in Yugoslavia. A double sexual standard dominates society and frequently hinders the implementation of egalitarian legislation. Morokvasic emphasizes that it is still the worst possible insult for a man to be called a woman. In the 1980s a Yugoslav woman could become economically independent, socially active, recognized, and respected at work and yet remain a mere servant at home.41 After Tito’s death in 1980, and especially during the wars of the 1990s, women were the first to lose their jobs. A masculinization of the emerging new economy and politics meant that opportunities for work outside the family were decreasing for women. In addition, structural changes were accompanied by the reemergence of traditional ideologies. New strains of those ideologies formed about kinship and family links and the role of women with the 1991–95 wars of secession and the resulting diaspora of the Croat, Bosnian, and Kosovar peoples. Furthermore, the new states, with the exception of Slovenia, quickly curtailed long-established women’s rights and restricted long-standing abortion rights. Militarism and nationalism reinforced the cult of masculinity, and under Church leadership an ideological battle for more births and an end to abortion came to the fore. In Serbia all this was also imbued with an anti-Western and anti-Albanian rhetoric, according to Branka Magasˇ.42 Attitudes toward the home and household chores have changed substantially as a result of the war experience. Some authors, such as Beverly Allen, have suspected that before the establishment of peace through the Dayton Agreement in December, 1995, especially in areas of siege during the secession wars, gender roles were being radically redefined. Allen emphasizes that chores traditionally assigned to women in the patriarchal, gender division of labor—chores, that is, related to domestic work and reproduction—have been perceived more in line with traditional masculine values associated with heroism, risk-taking, boldness, and courage. The women who, over and over again, risked death by incessant sniper fire to procure water, flour, rice, and other foodstuffs for their families, have gradually become notable figures of strength in the family and in the community. At the same time, Allen finds that the men who remained in the cities and were thus not at the front were seen as less masculine by the stringent code of patriarchy. Given the conditions of their existence in these cities, moreover, these men no longer enjoyed one of the time-honored bastions of Central European male privilege: the life of the café and all its attendant benefits for business and socializing.43 Many men, — 107 —

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therefore, have been deprived of activities and symbols associated with their traditional gender dominance, and many women benefited in esteem from the heroic value newly attached to some traditional aspects of their labor. Women, states Žarana Papi´c, were the most inventive in the art of surviving under the phenomenally high inflation in Serbia and in other war-torn areas. They returned to old ways of food processing, predominated in the endless queues, sold things on the black market, took on several jobs at once, and cared for their children, husbands, elderly relatives, and refugees.44 During the Yugoslav secession wars and in the new states, the symbolic meaning and value of the private and public arenas was radically redefined. During the height of nationalist politics in Serbia, Magasˇ hints at a new paradox resulting from the concentration of power in Slobodan Milosˇevi´c’s hands. She argues that “by removing all power from political institutions, Milosˇevi´c has also disempowered Serbian men.” A similar pattern could be observed in the other new republics of the former Yugoslavia. According to Papi´c, in Serbia, as elsewhere, worsening poverty encouraged women to be more self-denying, in line with patriarchal definitions of womanhood, but also gave them new control over others in the family, producing “a self-sacrificing micromatriarchy.” “Serbian women have willy-nilly played the part of Milosˇevi´c’s most faithful allies” by bearing the main brunt of the social crisis that has engulfed Serbia since the start of the war. By excluding women from the public domain and simultaneously portraying men as the soul and energy of the “war-oriented essence of the Nation” in what Papi´c calls “the mythologized total investment in Great History and Great Sacrifice in Serbia,” the Serbian regime of the late 1990s intensified the gender dichotomy in the public sphere. The reduction of men to the state of powerless objects of autocratic rule, Magasˇ emphasizes, also removed men’s power over women in the private sphere. Thus, women and men became acquainted with the sociocultural categories of matriarchy and gave them new essential meanings.45 It is too early to speculate on how the new generation of politicians in Croatia, Serbia, and Bosnia will alter these structures. The demonstrations in the fall of 2000 by the Serbian public in Belgrade and the election of the opposition leader Kostunica over Milosˇevi´c on September 24, 2000, point toward a substantial change in the government and politics in the Balkan area. The 2003 assassination of Serbia’s prime minister Zoran Djindjic and the seeming involvement in his death of both the Mafia and the opposition parties, however, seem to reveal that the region is still far from a peaceful and prosperous future. Powerless men and strengthened but self-denying women in Serbia, according to Papi´c, were instrumental in the nationalist construction of the rural/ militant/patriarchal mentality, personal identity, and gender formation. Although the dichotomy between the public and the private spheres is still very much controlled, Papi´c admits that substantial confusion concerning socioeconomic priorities in everyday life, for example, reshaped both gender rela— 108 —

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tions and the public/private divide. During the wars the public sphere was the supreme level of nation, state, manhood, and world politics:“It is the order of the despotic masculine power with the mysterious, silent invisible Great Master/ Leader as the omnipotent Great Savior/Father/Provider/Controller of the totally subjugated female Nation.”46 Officially, women have been ostracized from this public sphere in the successor states. In Bosnia, Obrad Kesi´c describes the marginalization of women through the common war images of women as Amazons, prostitutes, victims, witches, and wombs.47 Raped and murdered women, Lepra Mladjenovi´c writes, “do not die as heroines. No monuments rise for them. Raped and survived women bear the shame. They become heroines only for us—women who look at the world with womanidentified eyes.”48 Dorothy Thomas and Regan Ralph carry the argument further; by virtue of being a rape victim or the target of a war crime, a woman becomes the perceived agent of her community’s shame: “In a bizarre twist, she changes from a victim into a guilty party, responsible for bringing dishonor upon her family and community.” This mischaracterization of rape as a crime against honor rather than against the physical integrity of the victim has contributed to, according to the authors, the failure to denounce and prosecute wartime rape until very recently.49 These authors, however, demonstrate the marginalization, victimization, and abuse of women on the one hand for the political ends of the new nation-states, and on the other hand for ideological gains, be it within the mythology of the creation of a Greater Serbia or by “making female bodies the battlefield.”50

Transplanting Self-Sacrificing Motherhood into Settlement Communities During the wars and shortly thereafter, as well as in the settlement of refugees, for both men and women only the private sphere really existed. During the secession wars, both men and women became equally powerless in the public sphere. The (post)war and settlement private sphere, however, incorporates the mundaneness of survival in a society where political and social institutions and previous legal, financial, social, medical, and educational support systems and structures have broken down or are largely unknown. In the Balkan area’s private sphere, criminal forms of control over people’s lives and property have developed, refugees have swamped the area, and the standard of living has declined, accompanied by shortages of basic commodities. In both the areas of origin and of settlement, the ever-changing conditions of survival, the stress on family and kin networks, the reduction and minimization of needs, and the rapid pauperization of the middle class have come to characterize the private sphere. In the areas of origin the disastrous effects of the wars and indeed the destruction and disintegration of society, economy, and state are most evident in everyday encounters in the private sphere. These unstable social circumstances and the extremely hard living conditions have mobilized, according to Papi´c, the enormous energy of women for sheer survival, as the “hyperintensified form of — 109 —

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their subjugated empowerment in vital adaptation to times of crisis, war, and violence.”51 This trait, the ability to adapt in times of crises, is exactly what has allowed Bosnian women to endure the hardships in settlement societies, live on, and move along in their host environments. However, this struggle has also given self-sacrificing motherhood a new significance. Bosnian refugees transferred these traditional gender-role and behavior patterns to their host societies with little or no problem. Very few of the overworked Bosnian women in my sample complained about their household work or the lack of help they received from their husbands. Bosnian women like to be mothers, adore their children, and, in some cases, experience daily chores, such as cooking traditional meals, as a blessing rather than as a curse, even if it means working “double shifts” at their job site and at home. Even the young professionals and those active in political feminist movements, like Women in Black, did their household chores mostly without help from their male partners, whether they lived with Bosnian or native partners. It seems, furthermore, that a number of unmarried Bosnian Muslim women in my sample sought Bosnian men as husbands, while being perfectly aware and anticipating that their social position within the new family might be minor and that their actual workload might double. The unmarried female Bosnian refugees in my sample who argued that they would not settle for an Austrian or American husband did not name religious differences as their most important reason; rather, they perceived Western men as “less manly” than their Bosnian fellows. In other words, some of the unmarried Bosnian women in Austria and the United States sought future husbands from their own area of origin exactly because of the latter’s macho behavior. A number of Bosnian refugee women in my sample had lived in and some had remained through most of the war in one of the U.N.’s six “protected areas”: Biha´c, Maglaj, Sarajevo, Srebrenica,Tuzla, and Žepa. Many of them also came from Mostar. They lived for many months under constant shelling and in conditions of grave deprivation, where there was no “front,” and death found its victims in the bread lines, water lines, and markets. Some of the men and women who lived in Sarajevo during the siege vividly recall their daily food routine:“It was ravioli or rice, rice or ravioli, day-in, day-out.” The pictures of undernourished Sarajevans and malnourished people from other areas of the former Yugoslavia were broadcast to Western European and U.S. living rooms over the years. For the women and men in the cities under siege, acquiring drinking water and basic staples on the black market or through other illegal means became essential to their family’s survival. Even after years of living in the Western countries of “plenty,” some Bosnian women and men stressed in their interviews the importance of obtaining abundant supplies of food for their families. One interviewee insisted that I would not find one Bosnian who survived the siege and still liked to eat rice.52 Most of the mothers in my sample who had lived through sieges expressed — 110 —

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feelings of guilt because their children, often at a very young age, had experienced starvation. Feelings of guilt and shame motivated mothers and daughters to adapt quickly and successfully to the new socioeconomic environments of their host societies. One Bosnian woman emphasized that upon her arrival in New York City she did not care about clothes or furniture for her family’s little apartment but instead focused all her energies upon providing “enough food” for her sons. She had never experienced food shortages before the wars. After their arrival in New York City she relentlessly collected food coupons in the hope of always being able to provide decent meals for her family. Her younger son provoked her innermost feelings of guilt one evening when at the dinner table, with quiet appreciation for the meal, he said: “God, thanks, we have enough food.” The mother believed that her son had been starving during his refuge in Croatia when the family had been separated. She felt guilt and shame because during this time she could not fulfill her traditional role as the self-sacrificing mother; she felt that she had not been a good mother. Indeed, it was impossible to protect and provide for her sons because they went to Croatia on her husband’s insistence while she remained with him in her native town. But this rationale is irrelevant because it does not speak to the feelings of a mother from a culture that values her for her self-sacrifice and that bases her moral superiority on her devotion to her children. The family, rather than being merely an economic unit, is the center and purpose of one’s existence, according to many married and unmarried Bosnian women. Their notions of family bonds thus provided them with the strength and power to survive during the wars and the initial periods of settlement in host societies. Throughout the post–World War II decades, according to a 1971 statement by Josip Bros Tito, the most typical characteristic of Yugoslav social structures and practice was women’s increased participation in industry, agriculture, health, and education, and their simultaneously declining involvement in self-management and representative organs.53 In political decision-making and participation, Yugoslav women withdrew into passivity and silence. Socialism and its progressive laws of gender equality were unable to cross the threshold of the home. For Yugoslav women, it seems, the entire postwar experience entailed far-reaching changes in the public sphere and the dominance of old customs, values, and attitudes in the private sphere. Yugoslav legislation was unable to replace the old values of patriarchy with new ones. Aside from the increased female influence in household production and decisions, caused by husbands’ emigration for work, patriarchal gender relations were largely preserved despite progressive marriage and family legislation. As in other Socialist countries, women’s emancipation in Yugoslavia was demonstrated only through their increased participation in production. According to the party line, that in itself should have resulted in women’s economic independence and liberation. In reality, however, women were still oppressed by patriarchal values in the private sphere. — 111 —

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Scholars of migrant and refugee studies follow the same model as LCY’s “institutional equality” when looking at gender relations in various groups. Both Yugoslav women in self-management and Bosnian refugee women in the market economies of their host countries quickly realized that emancipation consisted, in reality, of working a double shift. Furthermore, throughout the secession wars, the public sphere became increasingly ambiguous and unreachable, for Yugoslav citizens could not influence their governments in most of the republics, while the real hardships were felt in the private sphere. Especially in the cities under siege, survival itself suddenly depended upon the performance of household chores, causing a reevaluation of the private domain. The public sphere lost its meaning during the war, and survival became the allencompassing struggle in the private sphere, enhancing the image of women, who constantly risked their lives for their families’ survival. Based on their experience, no married Bosnian women in my sample wanted to achieve individual emancipation or even economic independence from their husbands. Even in less-than-happy marriages, the progress of the entire family was Bosnian women’s central ambition. This rejection of Western feminist values and the embrace of traditional family values is not surprising when one considers that Bosnian refugee women come from a culture where the family, ideally defined through a delicate balance between maternal powers and patriarchal traditions, is the most important reason for being and living. The 1990s wars and sieges split up a substantial number of families, caused food and medicine shortages, and, in numerous cases, caused death or enduring illnesses in these families. Bosnian refugee women who settled in Austria and the United States therefore cherished their children above all. They engaged in wage labor not because they sought independence from their male partners by actively engaging in the public sphere or because they wanted to escape the oppressive patriarchal traditions of their homes, but simply to ensure economic stability and to improve their children’s living conditions and chances for future advancement.

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CHAPTER 6

American Nativism, Patriotism, and Nationalism

Our country, right or wrong. —Karl Schurz, German revolutionary and U.S. immigrant and statesman

MANY BOSNIANS in New York, while eager to live the “American way of life” and frequently disappointed with the lack of interaction with European Americans, realized that social acceptance in a country of immigrants is subject to sociopolitical trends and mechanisms that are difficult to uncover or predict.1 Many Bosnian refugees interviewed in Astoria, Queens, for example, stated that they liked Americans very much. But when asked how many American friends they had they could not think of one. The lack of interaction with the majority group was striking and points to a sociopsychological dilemma that many Bosnians felt during settlement. Their dilemma lay in part in the peculiar notion of American identity based on both political principles and, more concealed, ethnic conceptions, and in part on the ambiguity with which newcomers are welcomed. These American ideological perceptions of newcomers are part of a particular duality in American immigration history. The ambiguity reflects the conflict between the United States’s founding myth as a place providing asylum for the oppressed and needy people of the world, and nativist reactions and xenophobic hostilities toward aliens, particularly in “times of crises.” During these times, moral ambivalence about aliens and the conviction that one must protect the “American way of life” manifested themselves in a patriotic fervor that included both a wariness (of particular groups) of immigrants and the desire to limit immigration. On the one

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hand, long stretches of U.S. history saw a laissez-faire attitude toward immigration and asylum issues. For example, immigration officials, according to David Reimers, did not bother to record the numbers of Mexicans entering the country until 1908 because their crossing of the loosely supervised border between the United States and Mexico was common.2 On the other hand, U.S. citizens have not always welcomed newcomers. Benjamin Franklin, for example, showed signs of aversion to and xenophobia about Germans immigrating to the British colonies already in the first half of the eighteenth century. In 1753 he wrote to Peter Collinson that the German arrivals were “the most stupid of their nation,” and he was worried that “they [the Germans] will soon outnumber us, that all the advantages we have, will in my opinion, be not able to preserve our language, and even our government will become precarious.”3 John Adams claimed that to possess “the genuine character of true Americans” was to “have no attachments or exclusive friendship for any foreign nation.” The “Grecian horse,” as Alexander Hamilton called new immigrants, would destroy the polity through what Adams called their “insidious intrigues and pestilent influence.”4 The statements by Hamilton and Adams demonstrate that American nativism related strongly to the dichotomy of being distrustful of foreigners on the one hand and anxious about preserving America’s sense of nation and community on the other. Nativism and American nationalism developed from this dichotomy to their post–September 11, 2001, political and public expressions. Thus, there are precedents in American history for the current form of patriotism and nativism, including the misperceptions of particular groups of aliens. Because of their European features, Bosnian Muslims were possibly one of the few Muslim groups residing in the United States that did not encounter negative effects of what Ali Behdad, in another context, called the surging “defense patriotism” that overcame the entire nation, it seems, shortly after September 11, 2001.5 Considering their lack of interaction with Americans of European descent before the terrorist attacks on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon, it is questionable whether Bosnians’ social networks since 9/11 (and in the xenophobic climate that has been fostered) include any more American citizens.

U.S. History of Immigration and Nativism eginning with the 1798 Alien and Sedition Acts, the United States’s history of immigration is spiked with nativism and a particular form of nationalism, conspiracy theories, and political extremism. When Americans perceive their security and way of life to be threatened, xenophobic propensities and nativist policies frequently gain the upper hand. The Chinese Exclusion Act, the first Red Scare, the Japanese incarceration, the witch hunts of the McCarthy era, and the passage and implementation of the USA Patriot

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Act all epitomize this pattern. American history is a history not only of immigrants but also of nativism and exclusivism. The foundations of these reactions to immigrants and refugees, identified as alien threats, are located in a vision of the “American way of life,” a utopia rooted in the past, in an old moral order, according to David Bennett.6 Behdad carries this argument further by defining the vision of the “American way of life” as a particular kind of American “nationalism that has always embodied a nativist or antiforeign component to manufacture an imagined sense of community (i.e., the nation).” For him, American nativism does not constitute a contradiction of the national myth of asylum; rather, it is manufactured to provide a limitation of the “nation’s self-interested benevolence toward immigrants.”7

The American National Conscious vis-à-vis the Alien John Higham outlines U.S. nativism to demonstrate the country’s “differential and exclusionary mode of national identification in which the figure of the foreigner is invested with values contradictory to the American polity.”8 He identifies three main historical trends in the U.S. antiforeigner consensus: (1) anti-Catholicism, the oldest current, as a product of the Reformation;(2) antiradicalism as a contemporary effect of the French Revolution, which it might be argued, remains saliently influential in U.S. politics and thought; and (3) a racial nationalism as the ideology of Anglo-Saxon racial superiority.9 In contrast to expressions of ethnic nationalism that proliferated elsewhere at the end of the twentieth century, U.S. nationalism has been created as a “purely ideological” entity, as Arthur Mann remarked. The founding of the American nationstate was not based on traditional prerequisites for nationhood, such as a long and legendary mythical history, the sharing of an ancient folklore, or a common language and religious community. Instead, Mann emphasized, citizenship based on politically contingent key words such as social contract, inalienable rights, republic, and liberty became the foundation of national identification. Therefore, U.S. nationalism has strong moral and political elements, along with the ethnic dimensions of Anglo-Saxon superiority. Its character is a historical phenomenon, built from the people’s sense of community, or at least the popular representation thereof, vis-à-vis immigrants and refugees (and forcibly displaced Africans) who have entered the country over the centuries, and is connected to a self-assured sense of moral infallibility and superiority based on the admired institutions of democracy.10 Immigration makes the concept of the U.S. nation-state imaginable, according to Behdad. The collective sovereignty of the modern nation-state constructs the judicial and administrative immigration regulations. Beginning with the short-lived Alien and Sedition Acts of 1798, imposed by the Federalist administration of John Adams, immigration laws have reflected the idea that foreigners violently oppose the status quo. The Alien Act authorized the — 115 —

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president to deport any immigrant considered dangerous to the state’s security. The measure, never enacted, was abandoned two years later when Thomas Jefferson and his Democratic Republicans took control of the White House and Congress.11 Throughout U.S. history, at least until the twentieth century, the decision makers focused on periodic attempts to achieve politically acceptable procedural solutions to immigration to ward off nativist and antiforeigner sentiments that nevertheless arose frequently in the American polity. The nineteenth-century elite or gentlemen politicians succeeded in rationalizing and to a degree ameliorating anti-immigrant attitudes through ambivalent politics fostering a particular national consciousness. In 1870 an antiChinese convention urged an end to Chinese immigration in California, and state and local communities passed ordinances harassing Chinese businesses and aliens. By the 1880s nativist feelings against Chinese immigrants were so intense that they led to mob violence in Denver, Colorado; Tacoma, Washington; and Rock Spring, Wyoming. The passage of the Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882 made the Chinese the only nationality to be barred by name, prohibiting the entry of Chinese workers and barring all foreign-born Chinese from acquiring U.S. citizenship. The initial act suspended most immigration from China for ten years, but Congress periodically renewed it before extending it indefinitely in 1902. Not until 1943 were such barriers to Chinese immigration finally removed.12 Thus, the Chinese, as one particular group of immigrants, turned from being a racial problem to being an alleged existential problem when the nation perceived itself to be threatened culturally as a society. For many historians, the year 1882 marks the beginning of an era of regulation in U.S. immigration history. The Immigration Act of 1882 signaled the emergence of the federal state as an agent of regulation and, according to Behdad, the beginning of a new notion of citizenship, defined thereafter in terms of racial identity. Congress not only built a federal apparatus to regulate immigration policy but also, with the Chinese Exclusion Act, enabled the articulation of citizenship in racial terms by identifying an “unassimilable” race and banning it from entry and citizenship. Behdad maintains that the Chinese Exclusion Act ended the idea of citizenship as a status that could be gained through the immigrant’s own initiative and naturalization. Behdad argues that the act transformed the notion of citizenship “into a privileged rank reserved for certain ethnicities whose racial and cultural identities made them assimilable in the polity.”13 The significance of race before 1882, however, should not be underestimated. In fact, until the nineteenth century, citizenship was limited to free white males only. Behdad’s point, therefore, is not that U.S. citizenship was defined by racial criteria but rather that through the exercise of federal power an exclusionary form of citizenship, and thus nationalism, was sanctioned and encouraged. — 116 —

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The American nation saw itself threatened politically, as a republic, by foreigners. The figure of the alien as a “menacing source of sedition, discontent, insurrection, and resistance, articulated repeatedly, therefore manufactures a consenting, though imagined, sense of national community” in need of preservation and protection.14 This figure, however, did not remain constant over historical epochs. The late-eighteenth-century fear of French radicals in the United States turned into the mid-nineteenth-century’s antiforeign parties’ claims about “disloyal” Irish and Germans. In the latter, for example, German immigrants involved in labor organizations and politics were accused of treachery and of subverting American ideals. In relation to the 1880s labor movement, Peter Wigginton demanded in his America for Americans “the exclusion of the restless revolutionary horde of foreigners.”15 Moreover, the first Red Scare of 1919 and 1920, the incarceration of Japanese Americans during World War II, the McCarthyism of the 1950s, and the current association of Middle Eastern immigrants with terrorism and fanaticism have all entailed offensives against foreign-born “radicals” perceived to threaten American liberty, democracy, the status quo, and the “American way of life.”

Nativism and Antiradicalism to Safeguarding U.S. Values Chinese immigrants, perceived as a threat to the American culture and way of life, frequently faced virulent racism. However, conservativism and antiradicalism, rather than racism and antiforeigner xenophobia, form the crux of American nativism and nationalism. For example, what caused the KnowNothings to act against Catholics and immigrants in the 1850s was not primarily racism, xenophobia, or anti-Catholicism. Catholics were, however, associated with the autocratic, hierarchical, and centralized institution of the Catholic Church, which was viewed as anathema to American democracy and individual rights. Catholics were thus viewed as a subversive community whose support of “popish despotism” made them unassimilable into the national community and made their beliefs antithetical to republican ideas of freedom and liberty. One fraternity from which Know-Nothings sprang, the American Brotherhood, had already declared its task in 1844: “Our efforts must be to release our country from the thralldom of foreign domination.”16 Moreover, the Know-Nothings used “the language of Washington” to claim that “the maintenance of the Union of these United States” is “the primary object of patriotic desire” and declared its members’ total “obedience to the Constitution.”17 In short, the Know-Nothings’ anti-Catholicism was a form of antiradicalism. Know-Nothings and other nativists, in other words, have traditionally identified themselves as “true Americans” by distinguishing themselves from immigrants, who represented “un-American” values and ideas. A similar form of conservative antiradicalism produced the Red Scare after the bombing of the home of Mitchell Palmer, the new attorney general in — 117 —

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1919, which led to a series of raids and investigations by the newly created General Intelligence Division in the Department of Justice to gather information about foreign radicals. This mobilization of municipal police forces, state militias, and federal courts against foreigners was but part of a larger postwar business-government offensive against radicals and labor militants, according to Joshua Freeman and his coauthors. The offensive focused on the foreignborn and occurred even though by the fall of 1919 the worldwide advance of radicalism had largely been checked. Nevertheless, official and unofficial “loyalty” organizations intensified their antiradical crusade in the United States. Led by Attorney General Palmer, federal agents arrested and beat union members, and in December, 1919, a total of 249 aliens were deported and sent to the Soviet Union; most of them had never been charged with any crime. Some, such as the anarchist Emma Goldman, had been in the United States for decades. While the Palmer raids continued into 1920, New York Times editorials claimed that “the sentimental notion of America as the asylum of the oppressed has disappeared in the alarmed instinct of self-preservation” and that “no economic or financial consideration has any standing in comparison with the imperative patriotic need of guarding against enemies of order and emissaries of destruction.”18 Like earlier nativist claims, these editorials identify immigrants and refugees as signifiers of all that stands in opposition to true Americanism.

Government Involvement and Support of Nativist Movements There was, however, a significant difference between pre-1919 nativist movements and the 1919–20 Red Scare. The Know-Nothings and the patriotic fraternities of the 1890s never won actual government support or power and rarely had the support of the country’s wealthiest and most powerful people. In 1919 and 1920, however, federal and state government officials became leaders of the nativist movement. The significant difference between the nativist movements of the 1800s and the Red Scare is not in the underlying antialien sentiment but rather in the engagement of government officials and leaders in the craze. The bombings, strikes, and rumors of sinister plots in 1919 and 1920 made many citizens and officials fear for the future of American political institutions. For them, a disaster could happen if nothing were done.19 In early January, 1920, police raids in dozens of cities swept up some five thousand suspects, many taken from their homes without search warrants. In the same month, the New York State legislature expelled five duly elected Socialist members. By the summer of 1920 the Red Scare had begun to evaporate; even though Palmer continued to warn of the “red menace,” the height of the mood of intolerance had passed. Communist revolutions in Europe had died down; bombings had tapered off; the strike wave and race riots had receded. Historians, however, agree that the Red Scare left a lasting mark on life in the United States. Part of its legacy was the continuing crusade for “100 per— 118 —

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cent Americanism” and restrictions on immigration. It also left a stigma on labor unions and contributed to the antiunion open-shop campaign—the “American Plan,” as its sponsors called it in the 1920s.20 Nativist fears influenced the public discourse on both legal and illegal immigration. In a more current example, supporters of Proposition 187 expressed basic nativist fears when referring to it as the SOS—“Save Our State”—initiative. The proposition proposed numerous prohibitions on services for illegal immigrants. The Los Angeles Times cited one Republican congressman who stated that “if this doesn’t pass, the flood of illegal immigrants will turn into a tidal wave, and a huge neon sign will be lit up above the state of California that reads ‘Come and get it.’”21 Behdad called this popular antiimmigration craze a form of “defensive patriotism.”22 While opponents of the measure were able to diminish its effect through the courts, the Proposition 187 movement spread to other states and revealed many Americans’ deepseated ambivalence about immigration and refugee issues, which influenced congressional debate on immigration and welfare legislation. Opposition to immigration has been, in a nutshell, frequently articulated in terms of taking a stance against the erosion of American values and the disintegration of national unity.

Nativism Turned Patriotism after September 11 otwithstanding the enormous shock that the U.S. government and people experienced with the attacks on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon on September 11, 2001, the public discourse soon thereafter represented the terrorists and their alleged supporters (from the ranks of al-Qaeda and the Taliban to the United States’s Muslim and Arab communities) as enemies in nativist terms: they threatened not only the American way of life but also the institutions of American liberty, democracy, and capitalism. Nativism began to merge with a newly found patriotism—love for one’s home country—and nationalism. Immediately after the “attack on America,” the confused and insecure American public, influenced by a simplified media and policy discourse, reverted to a nativist interpretation of the events, which was soon to be buttressed by a self-righteous nationalism supporting the infallibility of the country’s retaliatory efforts. In his address to a joint session of Congress on September 20, 2001, President George W. Bush encouraged this convergence of nativism and patriotism with his explanation about why terrorists hate the United States: “They hate what we see right here in this chamber—a democratically elected government. Their leaders are self-appointed. They hate our freedoms—our freedom of religion, our freedom of speech, our freedom to vote and assemble and disagree with each other.”23 This was just one of the more prominent expressions of what Cynthia Weber in another context calls the “grammar of

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morality,” the interpretative context of nationalism and patriotism that gave retribution efforts (internationally and domestically) their moral legitimacy. The media created an ideological apparatus perpetuating the dominance of this grammar of morality—that it is one’s ethical duty to support one’s country against terrorist elements that threaten the American way of life. It secured the public’s support for the “war on terrorism” both abroad and at home. Thomas Doherty commented along those same lines on November 5, 2001, when he argued, “I don’t think you have any sense of moral ambiguity about the rightness of this particular cause that America’s engaged in.” Referring to the attack on Pearl Harbor, Doherty continued, “September 11 has an almost December 7 kind of clarifying impact for Americans. So I don’t think that the war on terrorism is going to be fought with ambivalence and ambiguity, at least in the American imagination.”24 The popular support for retaliatory measures and a general surge in patriotism provided the Bush administration with the insurance of moral infallibility, and it guaranteed, it seemed, the support of both the public and the media to once again reorder global politics by overseeing the moral progression of its enemies (be they terrorist states, terrorist cells, or individual terrorists inside and outside the country).25

Mass Media: National Vehicles to Manufacture Consensus The U.S. mainstream media fell in line with the administration when White House senior adviser Karl Rove announced that the “White House was a target,” a now widely discredited thesis. On the day of the attacks, a number of TV networks aired at least two ethically problematic sets of images: footage of Palestinians dancing in the streets in celebration, and shots of people falling to their deaths from the World Trade towers. Three days after the attacks, the tone of television coverage had entirely moved from shock to fury, “legitimizing, even advocating, total vengeance, no matter what the consequences.” This was most clearly demonstrated in the use of sensationalizing banner headlines simplifying and collapsing a whole number of events into one. The media did little to seek explanations for the attacks. Instead, what Susan Douglas has called a “collective amnesia” about U.S. conduct abroad over the last decades fell over the country. CNN’s simplified banner “America under Attack” explained it all, and viewers were convinced. By Friday, CNN had framed the events as “America at War,” complemented by other banner slogans such as “The Longest Week” in reference to the war film The Longest Day. By Monday, September 17, CNN had launched its banner “America’s New War.”26 The repeated use of pictures of Osama bin Laden, declared during the first post-attack week to be responsible for the attacks, without any discussion of the broader trends and global conditions that led to the attacks, in combination with massive oversimplification and self-delusion of American purity, morality, and innocence, all contributed to excessive warmongering. Former — 120 —

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secretary of state Lawrence Eagleburger argued, “There is only one way to begin to deal with people like this, and that is you have to kill some of them even if they are not immediately directly involved in the thing.”27 The Fox network commentator Bill O’Reilly clearly expressed his preference: the United States ought to “bomb the Afghan infrastructure to rubble.”28 These popular representations of the events focused on expressing vengeance rather than broadcasting meaningful information. They created the guise of a moral consensus, which elicited from many U.S. citizens patriotic expressions and acts.

Expressions and Applications of Post–September 11 Defensive Patriotism ithin hours of the attacks, people of Arab descent were beaten, spit on, and verbally harassed. One observer described a brutal assault in Queens where “a Muslim man was beaten ‘like an animal’ by a crowd of ten men. He then found a police car—but the police laughed at him and drove off, leaving him at the mercy of his assailants, who returned.”29 The South Asian American Leaders of Tomorrow (SAALT) organization reported 645 acts of hate-related violence nationwide, including several homicides, in the week after September 11 alone. A Zogby poll among Arab Americans found that by October, 37 percent said that they or their family members had experienced discrimination since September 11.30 Shortly after the attacks, immigrants and refugees of Arab or Muslim descent had clearly become targets of U.S. rage against Muslim terrorists in its most stereotypical, simplistic, and brutal expressions. In the general interpretive context of this dire and confusing moment in U.S. history, the moral outrage and vulnerability experienced (enhanced by the media coverage of celebrating Muslims, for example) manufactured a sense of moral justification that allowed, or maybe encouraged, attacks against innocent people. Moreover, a week after the attacks, the lines were clearly drawn. George W. Bush himself might have said it best in his speech to the joint session of Congress:“Either you are with us, or you are with the terrorists.”31 His reference was to other nations, but it could as well have fittingly described the general attitude toward domestic dissenters who dared to oppose the administration’s policies. “Traitor,”“coward,” and “Communist,” were only a few expressions with which objectors were labeled. American flags soon appeared by most bridges, public buildings, and schools, and outside many homes. Almost every car, it seemed, had a flag sticker in its window or a flag flying from the antenna; some people expressed their foreign-policy preferences more explicitly with bumper stickers pleading to “bomb them back to the Stone Age” or “nuke them all.” Many observers have bemoaned the absence of alternative voices in the mainstream media, especially those that might have opposed military action

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and the indiscriminate bombing of civilian populations. The National Day of Action that involved more than 130 antiwar demonstrations, however, received virtually no coverage from the mainstream media. Instead, a renewed sense of American pride and patriotism was reported as having spread throughout the country (and appalling hate speeches about Islam circulated on talk radio and the Internet and, in particular, among conservative Christian pastors). In a New York Times op-ed piece, Nicholas Kristof cites a number of examples of American religious bigotry and misperceptions. For example, Paul Weyrich and William Lind, two leading U.S. conservatives, write in a booklet titled Why Islam Is a Threat to America and the West: “Islam is, quite simply, a religion of war.” Other examples cited by Kristof include the following: Lind said of American Muslims, “They should be encouraged to leave. They are a fifth column in this country.” The columnist Ann Coulter suggested that “we should invade their countries, kill their leaders and convert them to Christianity.” A number of well-known religious leaders expressed their antipathy toward Islam. The Reverend Franklin Graham, son of the Reverend Billy Graham and a prominent evangelist in his own right, said of Islam, “It’s a very evil and wicked religion.” The Reverend Jerry Vines, former president of the Southern Baptist Convention, declared that the Prophet Muhammad was “a demon-obsessed pedophile.”32 Perhaps Islam is troubled in ways nobody can ignore, but simply thundering that it is intrinsically violent—as these examples do—does not help one understand it. Instead, such statements reinforce the racist and xenophobic threads in U.S. society.

New Measures Restricting Civil Rights and Liberties The administration seized the moment to push through Congress a number of legislative measures that substantially enhanced presidential powers. After the attacks, 90 percent of Americans favored some use of force in response to the attacks and expressed their confidence in President George W. Bush, who, as president, represented and symbolized the nation and its resolve at that moment. On September 14, both the House of Representatives (420 to 1) and the Senate (98 to 0) passed the “use of force” resolution, which granted the president broad authority to use force to counter the terrorist attacks. Moreover, just six weeks after the terrorist attacks, the Congress—exiled from its anthrax-contaminated offices and confronted with warnings that more terrorist assaults were soon to come—capitulated to the Bush administration’s demands for a new arsenal of antiterrorism weapons. In a rushed session without public hearings or debate, Congress overwhelmingly approved the Uniting and Strengthening America by Providing Appropriate Tools Required to Intercept and Obstruct Terrorism Act, the USA Patriot Act. On October 26, Bush signed the act into law. State legislatures soon enacted similar antiterrorist legislation, through which the war on terrorism expanded, most significantly at the state and local levels.33 — 122 —

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This new legislation severely curtailed civil rights and liberties. The detainees at Guantánamo Bay are only the most prominent example of the administration’s regulatory practices and new policies in the “war on terrorism.” The detainees are not technically on U.S. territory, and the government argues that they therefore have neither constitutional rights nor the rights granted to prisoners of war under the Geneva Convention, the international treaty governing detention during wartime. Basic principles like due process, political freedom, and the rule of law were successfully circumvented under the new legislation. The due-process clause of the federal Constitution applies to all “persons” within the United States, including aliens, whether their presence is lawful, unlawful, temporary, or permanent. Yet, Section 412 of the USA Patriot Act exposes immigrants to extended, and, in some cases, indefinite, detention based on the attorney general’s untested certification that he has “reasonable grounds to believe” that a noncitizen is engaged in terrorist activities. Proponents of the new legislation argued repeatedly that these restrictions would help prevent new terrorist attacks. Careful observers, however, have claimed that the efficacy of these restrictions has been overstated. More than fifteen hundred foreigners residing in the United States have been arrested since September 11 in the dragnet investigation of that day’s crimes. Not one of them has been charged with any involvement in the crimes under investigation. Instead, many of them, while initially denied legal council, are being held on immigration charges.34 While the detainees were frequently portrayed as possible “sleeper” terrorists by the mainstream media, little was initially known about their actual treatment and the accusations against them. For months the administration blocked access to the detainees and details about their treatment. Not until the end of January, 2002, did the INS finally announce that Human Rights Watch and Amnesty International would be allowed access to some detention facilities. Others remained off limits to monitoring groups. Since then a few reports about the actual conditions of the detainees have been published in the leftwing press. Drawing on interviews with detainees and their lawyers, Amnesty International sent Attorney General John Ashcroft a document concerning the detentions in the post–September 11 investigations. Amnesty International stated that “many of those detained during the 11 September sweeps are held in harsh conditions, some of which may violate international standards for humane treatment.” Moreover, the document cited “allegations of physical and verbal abuse of detainees by guards, and failure to protect detainees from abuses by other inmates.” A number of the detainees’ lawyers reported that the detainees suffered some grave human-rights violations. Some were held for months in solitary confinement. Others suffered physical and psychological torture, such as being beaten by guards, kept in cold cells and refused further blankets, and received no halal food (which conforms to specific Islamic dietary laws) or toilet paper for weeks. One detainee died of a heart attack while — 123 —

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imprisoned. Initially arrested as suspects in the September 11 attacks, and later transferred to the INS and charged with visa violations, about three hundred people were still in custody at the time of this writing. Even as the administration incarcerated individual suspects, it also promoted the theory of a larger involvement of the general Middle Eastern population in the war on terrorism, encouraging the scapegoating of this segment of U.S. society.35 In the first weeks of July, 2002, about seventy-five stores were searched by investigators trying to find evidence of financial backing for terrorist groups. According to a Washington Post article by David Caruso, dozens of foreigners, mostly from Pakistan, were detained or questioned. The shop owners were asked about their accounting practices, whether they sent money to any foreign organizations on a regular basis, and whether they supported al-Qaeda or knew anyone who did. The largest raids occurred between June 28 and July 2. Agents swept jewelry (and other) stores in Pennsylvania, Florida, New York, Alabama, Georgia, Mississippi, and North Carolina. Since then, smaller raids have taken place in Texas, California, and Massachusetts.36 In the wake of September 11, ordinary citizens have become watchdogs policing their neighborhoods. Weeks after the attacks the Bush administration, announcing plans to use immigration laws to fight terrorism, asked people to report suspicious activity. In December, 2001, a month after the Justice Department directed police around the country to locate and interview five thousand Middle Eastern men, the INS announced that it was placing 314,000 immigrants wanted for deportation in an FBI database used by nearly all police agencies to check criminal charges. On January 31, 2002, Bush announced the creation of a national volunteer agency called Citizen Corps to engage ordinary Americans in reporting suspicious activities to the authorities. The government also wanted to expand the existing Neighborhood Watch program to have people report their neighbors suspected terrorist connections. Critics have pointed out that when ordinary citizens assume police and immigration-related duties, the result is often inefficiency and discrimination.37 In short, nativist suspicions spread throughout the country, similar to the first and second Red Scares, only this time, not Socialists or Communists but Muslims and people with Arab features became the focus of the nation’s rage and suspicions. The post–September 11 raids, one hopes, may end like the Palmer raids did. Recently, the mainstream media has begun to question what the administration and its agencies knew about possible terrorist attacks in the fall of 2001. The Bush administration sidestepped direct responsibility for the attacks by distracting the public with the creation of the cabinet-level Department of Homeland Security in an attempt to reduce bureaucratic rivalry and with the war on Iraq. Whether these evasive steps will protect the Bush administration from further criticism and public scrutiny, however, is questionable particularly in light of the prisoner abuse scandal at Abu Ghraib and beyond. — 124 —

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The government, media, and public responses to the traumatizing events of 9/11, however, are neither new nor surprising. Particular groups of immigrants and refugees have traditionally been perceived as threats to the U.S. polity, creating a state of national emergency that can be overcome only with rigid regulation. As Behdad has emphasized in a different context, the current anti-Muslim craze demonstrates that the fear of the radical alien, whether in a religious, political, or cultural sense, continues to be potent in encouraging national antipathy toward newcomers. The reiteration of claims about the menace of immigrants in U.S. history supports Walter Benjamin’s contention that “the ‘state of emergency’ in which we live is not the exception but the rule.”38 The “crisis of immigration” is neither a historical exception nor a series of cyclical eruptions of a unique disorder. Rather, as Behdad puts it, “the state of siege is the rule in the narrative of (American) nationalism”; it is what legitimizes national authority and state power.39 It is what legitimized the new legislation that provides the administration with broad new powers. The American people, themselves descendants of immigrants and refugees, frequently turn against newcomers, against the Other, with the fears of a culture uncertain of its own roots and sense of community. In numerous cases, lawabiding American patriots turned against foreigners out of fear that they might be involved in terrorist activities. The 9/11 crisis, however, reinforced the notion of difference within the national community, personified by Middle Eastern immigrants and refugees. Focusing on this phenomenon, Elizabeth Hull has remarked that “from colonial times [Americans’] idealism [of the United States’s being a refuge and sanctuary for the masses] has coexisted with intolerant and even xenophobic attitudes that have also represented a resilient strain in the American psyche.”40 For Americans the stereotype of the immigrant has not so much been that of a menace or a poor and miserable figure in need of assistance. It has been (and is), Homi Bhabha has argued in another context, an “ambivalent mode of knowledge” that masks its excess through a strategy of individualization.41 The discourse of immigration is full of contradictory stereotypes, including the immigrant as weak and wretched versus the immigrant as powerful and dangerous; as an opportunist who steals jobs, or a lazy parasite who abuses socialwelfare funds. Although some of the new measures focusing on airports and the Border Patrol might not be successful in keeping terrorists out of the country, they will limit the flow of illegal migrants. More important, however, such measures have been instrumental in establishing a pattern of social control and a general mode of surveillance not only in the border regions but also in big cities. In addition to the procedures that the INS has developed to regulate immigration (Expedited Removal of Aliens, Detention and Removal of Aliens, Conduct of Removal Proceedings), the USA Patriot Act and similar state and — 125 —

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local legislation might contribute less to the security of the country than to the insecurity of certain migrant and foreign groups in the country. However, these measures have certainly successfully increased social control throughout the country and contributed—at least temporarily—to the creation of a “defense patriotism.” This defense patriotism, based also on a perceived American moral superiority in foreign-policy terms, has served, it seems, to justify to the U.S. public the inhumane treatment of imprisoned Muslims. In the spring of 1920 attentive observers realized that the attorney general and his imitators had begun to seem more threatening to civil liberties than a handful of radicals were to social order. One hopes that the American people will realize that long-term protection from international terrorist acts can be provided only by undertaking fewer covert operations, providing more humanitarian aid, and supporting conscientious and equitable foreign diplomacy. Rahm Emanuel, a White House immigration adviser, remarked, “We are a nation of immigrants and a nation of laws.”42 Herein lies the hope of those who oppose the current war on terrorism internationally and domestically. Courts can stand up (and to a degree have stood up) to the administration’s civil liberties’ violations. Only with a renewed appreciation for the rule of the law will the current patriotism and nativism fade. Moreover, the mainstream media has begun to evaluate and report critically on the current administration’s knowledge of terrorist plans before September 11. Thus, the defensive patriotism, based on the successful employment of the administration’s socialcontrol mechanisms and the broad use of the mainstream media, might be eroding. It is, however, necessary to realize also that in the aftermath of the September 11 tragedy, the state successfully extended its disciplinary exercise of power through legislating the surveillance of its immigrants, policing and controlling both newcomers and U.S. borders, and toughening exclusionary and regulatory practices. Nevertheless, the continuous acknowledgment of the cliché that the United States is a nation of immigrants points also to the nation’s recognition that eventually the nativist mood might subside and the respect for basic human rights both at home and abroad might return. Without respect for human rights, America might lose sight of what it is actually fighting for. In this America, Bosnians—but especially refugees and immigrants from non-white origins—will continue to feel uprooted and scrutinized. America’s complex ambivalence toward the newcomers does not allow for swift integration but leaves them, instead, in a mental state of displacement often for decades. Moreover, the new national security policies, as exemplified through the Patriot Act and the mass-incarcerations of immigrants, contributes to the public legitimization of the exclusion of particular groups of newcomers.

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CHAPTER 7

Austrian Identity Formation vis-à-vis the Foreigner on the “Island of the Blessed”

A boundary is not that at which something stops but, as the Greeks recognized, the boundary is that from which something begins its presencing. —Martin Heidegger, “Building, Dwelling, Thinking”

THE AUSTRIAN integration policy, in practice, is relatively assimilationist and less multicultural than the resettlement policy in the United States. Bosnians were catered to by a rigidly structured and state-controlled support scheme that from the outset provided little room for social interactions with the natives. In retrospect, the Austrian government, which originally opposed the economic integration of the temporarily protected Bosnians, pressured the refugees who had not yet been economically integrated and who had remained in camps to return to Bosnia when the Bund-Länder Aktion came to an end. Those Bosnians who had disregarded Austrian foreigner and employment legislation by finding jobs had subsequently become independent from the Aktion and were granted guest-worker status. Thus, it was ironically crucial for Bosnian refugees to defy Austrian temporary protection guidelines to find work that enabled them to integrate economically. An assimilationist ideal—the notion that newcomers come to share a common culture and melt into the majority society—seems to have been the optimum goal of the Austrian citizenry and government. Bosnians themselves realized shortly after arrival that integration into Austrian society would mainly involve the economy. This dichotomy, based on Austrians’ xenophobic fears on the one hand and the structural constraints experienced by the refugees in the stratified system of social inequality on the other, stemmed from a particular

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understanding of the Austrian identity. Manufactured after World War II, Austrian identity, still based upon a peculiar notion of Vergangenheitsbewältigung (“coming to grips with the past”), encompassed the country’s “perpetual neutrality” and its own image of the nation as humanitarian toward Cold War refugees. This particular Austrian self-image came under increasing scrutiny in the 1980s and 1990s. As the Austrian historian Friedrich Heer pointed out several years ago, there is no other historical formation in Europe whose existence is so closely connected with the identity problems of its members as Austria. For long stretches of its modern history, Austria was ambivalent about developing a national identity separate from Germany.1 At the birth of Austria’s second independence in 1945 stood the political elites of the 1930s, reduced by emigration after 1934 and by Nazi victimization. While the presence of the Allied forces shaped the political environment, according to Helmut Konrad, the economic and social consequences of the war and the Nazi regime led to self-evident political goals: sovereignty needed to be reestablished in the realm of foreign policy, and social and economic affairs needed to be “normalized.” In rigid contrast to the climate of political conflict in the First Republic, a politics of consensus focusing on these goals characterized government in the first postwar decades. Through the country’s confirmation of its perpetual neutrality it obtained sovereignty in 1955, and through its Keynesian economic model, manufactured in a sociopolitical consensus, Austria slowly developed an identity that was initially based upon the myth of being the “first victim of Nazi German aggression.” While a coming to grips with the past was not initiated by the government or other national institutions, Austria’s neutrality became the focal point of the country’s identity in the 1950s and 1960s. Manfred Steger emphasizes correctly that the country’s particular notion of neutrality rested upon the twin pillars of its “humanitarian” refugee policy toward people fleeing the Communist Soviet block and its critical stance toward the western North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) operations. This distinct political and military neutrality and a refugee and asylum policy commonly perceived as open and liberal formed the basis of the young republic’s identity, which ensured that Austria remained an “Island of the Blessed” in the heart of Europe.2 With the end of the Cold War, both of those pillars cracked. Moreover, the consensus policy was eroded by longstanding government misconduct and corruption as well as alienation of the two major parties from their electoral bases. Consequently, for protest voters, older perceptions of antiSemitism and antiforeigner xenophobia, which had never been truly overcome in the first place, became dominant. It is, however, important to realize that right-wing politicians skillfully employed the rising xenophobia for their opportunistic use of corresponding stereotypes to further their political agenda.

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Historical Background of Identity Formation fter World War II the political elites from the Right and the Left agreed upon a common future course: to be victims of National Socialism. Austria’s Second Republic built its international credibility and national identity upon a particular notion of neutrality and a socioeconomic consensus politics. The country, however, never really came to grips with its active involvement in Nazi crimes during the Third Reich because the political consensus lasted in large part until the 1980s and prominently included a view of Austria as having been the first victim of Hitler’s aggression.3 Its particular socioeconomic policies allowed for more than forty years of wealth and peace under Socialist rule, but the country began to adopt antiforeigner xenophobia and right-wing politics in the 1980s. This shift was facilitated by the rise of a populist politician who thrived on new xenophobic fears of foreigners and old national Socialist sentiments that are still very much alive in the country. Thus, the Austrian saying, “Ein neuer Hitler gehört her!” (“We need a new Hitler!”) stands not only for Austria’s hidden sympathies for the Nazi regime but also, some fear, for the current sentiment in the “Island of the Blessed.”4 The process leading from acceptance of the state to the formation of an Austrian nation was slow and gradual. Authors have argued that the Austrian nation was influenced more thoroughly by the U.S. model than the German nation was. That the existence of an Austrian nation is now accepted without a second thought has to do mainly with political not ethnic considerations. The State Treaty of 1955 and neutrality are more important points of identification than the German language or culture. “We are one people” is a very German slogan. The Austrian understanding of nationhood is instead based largely on the acceptance of a special political order rather than ethnic or national bonds.5 Today, even right-wing politicians, as representatives of the former nationalist camp, vigorously support this political view of Austrian nationhood, at least in their public utterances. Jörg Haider of the Freedom Party (FPÖ) has repeatedly expressed this point of view in speeches, even though he previously called the creation of the Austrian nation a “monstrosity” (Mißgeburt). Therefore, today Austrians in general and nationalists in particular oppose surrendering any element of independence in the process of the country’s integration into Europe. In this context, Austria’s neutrality is an extremely significant factor because, of all the features associated with the Second Republic, it has been the strongest characteristic in the nation’s self-concept. With Austria’s entry into the European Union (EU), neutrality will presumably, in time, lose its importance. In conjunction with the increasing disillusionment of voters that has resulted from economic problems and voter alienation from and the political corruption in the two main parties, Austria’s EU membership has caused increased xenophobia and other exclusivist tendencies in the country.

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The Austrian self-image as an Island of the Blessed has been fading since the late 1980s. The stability and predictability of the post–World War II national political system has dissolved into insecurity over Austria’s future role in the EU and has given rise to greater popular protest. The famous Austrian Gemütlichkeit (coziness) of compromise is disappearing because of the more than a decade-long poor performance in socioeconomic affairs leading to the erosion of popular loyalty to the established parties, the transformation of political communication, and the collapse of popular support for traditional sociopolitical and cultural structures.6 Austrians’ dissatisfaction with “politics as usual” is reflected in the rise of libertarian parties of the “New Left,” such as the Green party, and the authoritarian nationalist-populist party of the New Right, Jörg Haider’s FPÖ.7

Refugees and NATO: Two Defining Issues for Austria’s Neutrality Refugees and Austria’s defiant attitude toward NATO shaped the country’s identity as the neutral center of Europe more than any other issues. In the post–World War II confusion, Austria quickly repatriated the approximately 1.4 million displaced persons, mostly POWs and forced laborers. The country had additionally hosted more than 480,000 refugees, most of whom were Volksdeutsche, Heimatvertriebene, and Umsiedler, and thus ethnically Germans or Austrians who had been expelled from Eastern European regions in the early postwar years. These refugees were not particularly welcome in Austria. In the immediate post–World War II period, Austrians who themselves experienced economic misery referred to the latter refugees (who could be seen as returning to the homeland from which their ancestors had emigrated) as a Landplage (public calamity).8 The refugees residing in Austria in the postwar years were but a small problem relative to the issues of sovereignty and economic and political reconstruction. During the early years of the Second Republic, a distinct twist in Austrian neutrality evidenced itself during the Hungarian revolt. The Soviet invasion of Hungary in 1956 placed Austria in a tense situation that enabled it to define and demonstrate its neutrality. More than 180,000 Hungarians fled to Austria to escape the Soviet invasion, even though Austria was still hosting about 214,000 post–World War II refugees. The Hungarian refugees found Austria hospitable, with the population at first showing enormous and generous support, according to Heinz Dopsch. Yet, about 90 percent of the Hungarian refugees returned home or left for other countries as their Austrian hosts became impatient with them. Over time, increasingly antiforeigner and anti-Hungarian assertions circulated in the public and the media. In response to Soviet criticism of Austrian behavior during the Hungarian revolt, Austrian politicians were not hesitant to emphasize that their country was behaving within the limits of international law as it applied to neutral countries.9 Its commitment to protect Hungarians fleeing Soviet invasion earned the Austrian government special approval from the United States and other Western democracies. At this point, it seemed, — 130 —

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Austria’s neutrality, its protection of Hungarian refugees fleeing the Red Army, and the government’s and media’s open criticism of the Soviet invasion put the small country clearly in the Western bloc. The violation of its neutrality, however, by the overflight of NATO aircraft during the Lebanon crisis in 1958 made Austria insist that Western countries, too, respect its neutrality. This Austrian reaction, it can be assumed, rectified Washington’s view of Austria.10 Ten years later, with the end of the Prague Spring, another refugee “crisis” hit Austria. When the Red Army moved into Czechoslovakia in late November, 1968, about ninety-six thousand people fled directly to Austria, and another sixty-six thousand Czechs and Slovaks entered the country via Yugoslavia. Their experience was similar to that of the Hungarians; the majority remained only briefly in Austria before returning home or leaving for other destinations. The economic consequences of hosting Czech refugees were minimal, because Austria was experiencing the boom of the economic miracle resulting from post–World War II reconstruction efforts, including the Marshall Plan, during the late 1960s and early 1970s. With quick and less bureaucratically cumbersome aid for the refugees, Austria could enhance its image as a humanitarian country of asylum in the international community. In contrast to the Hungarians, however, the Czechs kept coming. Between 1968 and 1980 about forty thousand refugees from Czechoslovakia applied for asylum in Austria;of these, fewer than ten thousand had Austrian citizenship by 1992.11 Thus, Austrians appeared to be hospitable to refugees only if they left for other countries as soon as possible after their arrival. Throughout the cold war, however, Austria repeatedly used refugees escaping Communist oppression to define the country’s neutrality as humanitarian and westward-directed.

The Rising Tide of Protest Presenting itself as the guardian of social security and political stability, the Austrian Socialist Party (SPÖ) deliberately projected Austria as an Island of the Blessed. The ideological thaw and the soothing effect of spreading prosperity founded upon the one-sided, simplistic view of Austria as the first victim of Nazi aggression artfully concealed the population’s potential to identify with the far right of center. Only occasionally did the anti-Semitism that had been so prominent in 1920s and 1930s Vienna surface. Widespread feelings of antipathy toward foreign guest workers, lingering German nationalism in the province of Carinthia, and the involvement of Austrian right-wing terrorists in the German-speaking Italian province of Southern Tirol showed hints of the persistence of xenophobic and national socialist attitudes and values in some segments of the Austrian population.12 The first clear signs of an emerging “political culture of unease” appeared in Austria in 1983 when Kreisky’s SPÖ, in the midst of economic woes, lost its absolute majority in the National Council (parliament). The ensuing coalition between the SPÖ and the then national-liberal FPÖ (plagued by seemingly — 131 —

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endless scandals and a continuing economic downturn) was dissolved when the populist-nationalist Jörg Haider became the chair of the FPÖ in 1986, and SPÖ chancellor Franz Vranitzky subsequently refused to maintain the coalition agreement with an FPÖ under Haider’s leadership.13 The following years manifested the swing to the right in the protracted domestic and international debate over President Waldheim’s Nazi past, a series of brilliant successes by Haider’s FPÖ in state elections, and the fiftieth anniversary of Hitler’s 1938 Anschluss (annexation) of Austria.14 Rival interpretations among the political parties of the events leading up to the 1938 annexation of Austria raised questions of long-neglected collective guilt. Chancellor Vranitzky publicly admitted to Austria’s complicity in Nazi crimes, and even President Waldheim apologized for the “crimes of National Socialism committed by Austrians.” Yet questions about Austria’s past remained. The distrust and suspicion of old-style politics were further fueled by a new string of corruption scandals that engulfed prominent SPÖ politicians, such as former chancellor Fred Sinowatz and former minister for foreign affairs and president of the National Council, Leopold Gratz.15 Between 1989 and 2004, the notion of Austria as an Island of the Blessed completely eroded. Austria’s 1989 “Letter to Brussels”—the application to join the EC—reversed its cautious tradition of officially walking a middle path between the Eastern and Western blocs by turning toward the West and European integration. Several months later, the breakdown of communism in Eastern Europe led to the opening of the iron curtain and a fundamental shift in Austria’s geopolitical position. The 1990 unification of Germany coincided with a flood of asylum seekers from Eastern Europe into Austria, sparking xenophobic cries for restrictive immigration laws, which, fostered by Haider’s right-wing populism, led to the FPÖ’s winning 16 percent of the vote in the national elections. The 1991 outbreak of the seccession wars in Yugoslavia added war refugees to the stream of Eastern European asylum seekers, prompting heavy-handed proponents of immigration and asylum restriction in the coalition government of the SPÖ and ÖVP (conservative People’s Party) to follow the FPÖ’s popular demands for harsher measures. New alien, asylum, and residence laws were passed establishing quotas on immigrants, strengthening the Austrian foreign police’s ability to check identity, and allowing “unfounded applications for asylum” to be dismissed without detailed investigation.16 The Austrian mainstream political parties in government thus sought to preempt the perceived threat from the Right by putting restrictive refugee and asylum policies on their platforms.

The “Foreigner Issue” and the Rise of Xenophobia nitially, two-thirds of the Austrian population was enthusiastic about the 1989 breakdown of communism in Eastern Europe and the lifting of the iron curtain vis-à-vis its eastern neighbors, Hungary and Czechoslovakia.

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From spring 1990, however, the mood began to turn as many Austrians realized that the border opening to the east meant more than a boost to Austria’s economy: it also brought thousands of legal and illegal migrants. Totally unprepared, the Austrian center-left coalition government aggravated the situation by erecting a clumsy set of temporary refugee shelters and camps. For example, it channeled hundreds of asylum seekers into small villages close to the Hungarian and Czech borders, thus raising the anxiety levels of the local rural population by creating a one-to-one ratio of foreigners to locals basically overnight. During this time, small incidents involving aliens working illegally in Austrian companies and asylum seekers committing criminal acts were completely blown out of proportion by the country’s largest tabloid, Neue Kronen Zeitung. Warning against a “foreigner threat,” the paper frequently carried articles favoring severe asylum restrictions and showed caricatures of, for example, giant “alien rats” attacking “Mr. Austria.”17 As early as March, 1990, the FPÖ had latched onto the “foreigner problem,” with top functionaries openly claiming that even though people were created equal, they were “certainly very different from each other.”18 Focusing on the problem of mass migration from Eastern Europe to the “Golden West” and supported by the Kronen Zeitung’s daily headlines, the FPÖ dominated politics by emphasizing the inadequacy of old asylum policies that were internationally recognized as liberal and humane. Opinion polls supported the increasingly radical antiforeigner course of the FPÖ:a large majority was in favor of stricter asylum policies, demanding “harsh measures against migration ‘abuses.’” Once again, Haider skillfully exploited widespread prejudice and fear by continuing to thunder against “multiculturalism” and the government’s “misconceived humanity” that simply “imported criminality” from the East. Since the 1990 election campaign, the “foreigner issue” ranked prominently, and in the “red” capital of Austria, a public opinion poll found that 31 percent of the respondents considered it a “high criterion” in their voting decisions. Particularly Arabs, Jews, Russians, and Serbs were rejected—a peculiar dimension of the Austrian mind, given that none of these ethnic groups made up a significant number of immigrants in Austria.19 Top-level ÖVP and SPÖ politicians began to join the chorus of voices that claimed that “the boat is full” and demanded increased border controls and a visa duty for Eastern Europeans. Social Democratic ministers responded to the populist call, endorsing severe asylum restrictions and even threatening the immediate deportation of thousands of Romanian immigrants. They thus legitimized Haider’s nationalist-populist strategy. Yet, before the outbreak of the Yugoslav secession wars, the number of legal asylum seekers never surpassed thirty thousand, and only small numbers of citizens reported actually having had “negative experiences” with foreigners. In his 1992 study on international migration, Alexander Melamid called the immigration figures calculated in the early 1990s in the multiple scenarios for Austria “reasonable.” The growing — 133 —

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antiforeigner sentiments stood in stark contrast to the benefits that Austria’s economy had reaped from the fall of the iron curtain. In 1990, exports to Hungary increased by 43 percent, imports rose by 29 percent, and exports to Czechoslovakia grew by 82 percent.20 Austria’s leading political scientist, Anton Pelinka, described the FPÖ-led show of political force against foreigners after the 1991 outbreak of the secession wars in Yugoslavia, when Croatian and, in 1992, Bosnian refugees began to enter Austria, as the “transition of Austria’s elitist democracy to a populist democracy.”21 Haider and the FPÖ, however, felt that the new restrictive laws had not gone far enough and warned against the danger of a possible Umvölkung (ethnic transformation) of the “entire white race.” Despite Haider’s losing the Carinthian governorship in 1991 because of his defense of the “Third Reich employment policy,” state elections in the same year resulted in spectacular gains for the FPÖ. Using the simplistic formula “stop foreigners” and campaign slogans such as “Vienna shall not become Chicago!” Haider entered the Vienna state elections campaign in November, 1991.22 The SPÖ lost its absolute majority for the first time since 1945, and the FPÖ vote increased by 12.9 percent, gaining 22.6 percent of the total vote and thus becoming the second-strongest political force in Vienna. Austrian political scientists Peter Ulram and Fritz Plasser argue that the “foreigner issue,” combined with general public dissatisfaction with the coalition government, had been especially effective in influencing Viennese blue-collar workers, thus establishing a new constituency for the traditionally professional middle-class and farmer-oriented FPÖ.23

Bosnian Refugees: A Force Dividing the Austrian Public By 1992 the Yugoslav catastrophe had begun to divide Austrians, with an increasing number of private citizens and public and private institutions criticizing Haider’s and Minister for the Interior Löschnak’s position on refugees. Austrian radio and television, the Red Cross, and the Catholic relief organization Caritas had jointly begun to organize the project Nachbar in Not (Neighbor in Despair) and by mid-1992 had collected ATS 36 million (about US $3 million) to aid refugees from the former Yugoslav republics. By the end of 1992 Austria had admitted more than fifty-seven thousand refugees from those republics. The influx of refugees reached record levels at this time, prompting Haider to engage in a new show of force by advocating “direct democracy” and initiating an antiforeigner Österreich Zuerst (Austria First) petition to be signed by Austrian citizens before it was submitted to the National Assembly. As part of a twelve-point program to control foreigners in Austria, the “Austria First” petition included the following demands: •

Stopping immigration until illegal immigration could be prevented, housing shortages eliminated, and unemployment decreased to below 5 percent — 134 —

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• • • • •

Requiring that foreign workers carry identification cards at their workplace Creating new foreign-police jobs to detect illegal immigrants and fight crime, especially organized crime Limiting the share of students with foreign mother tongues to a maximum of 30 percent in schools Not granting Austrian citizenship prematurely Establishing a “Foundation for Eastern Europe” to prevent migration24

The million signatures that Haider had hoped for would have pressured the government to translate this program into law. For the first time, however, Haider overestimated the level of xenophobia among Austrian citizens. In addition, he underestimated both the popularity of “SOS Fellow Human Being—Decency First,” the sister project of Neighbor in Despair, and many Austrians’ fears of publicly endorsing xenophobic demands. Haider thus lost many protest voters who, in the anonymity of the voting booth, had checked the FPÖ box but were not ready to put their names to an antiforeigner petition. By the end of the one-week signing period, “only” 417,278, or less than 7.4 percent of Austria’s 5.65 million registered voters, had signed. On January 23, 1993, more than two hundred thousand people turned the Viennese Helden Platz (Hero’s Square) into a sea of light as they carried torches and candles to celebrate the petition’s failure.25 The dismal outcome of the petition, however, did not mean an end to the popularity of Haider and his FPÖ. In the 1995 parliamentary elections the FPÖ won 21 percent of the vote, while the SPÖ remained the strongest party in the county with 38 percent. The ÖVP, which had been the junior partner in the Grand Coalition for eleven years, was elected by 28 percent of voters. The foreigner and guest-worker-friendly Green Parties won less than 5 percent of the vote in those elections.26 In 1995, after the isolation of the Waldheim era, Austria joined the EU, and the European unity fostered by the fall of the Berlin Wall enabled the Austrian government to win full EU membership with its neutrality. Austrians themselves approved the country’s membership in the EU in a plebiscite only after they were exposed to an intensive pro-EU propaganda campaign. The country, however, still clings to its neutrality in relation to NATO.

Haider’s Opportunism and the Foreigner Issue The Great Coalition continued with its Proporz system (a system in which the two dominant parties divide the spoils of power, for example, through jobs, housing, and government contracts, according to proportional strength and party affiliation) and cozily stable but corrupt politics from 1995 to 1999. During the last two Grand Coalition governments (1991–99) increasingly more restrictive legal measures for asylum applicants and foreign workers were — 135 —

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passed by the National Assembly. Meanwhile, Haider gained the Carinthian governorship back and fine-tuned his political profile. In the 1999 general-election campaign, Haider promised deregulation, less state control, sweeping privatizations, reduced bureaucracy, and an end to the division of spoils in Austria among members of the long-dominant Social Democratic SPÖ and conservative ÖVP coalitions. Haider also promised monthly checks of ATS 5,700 (US$400) to mothers to strengthen the family and boost Austria’s falling birth rate. He attracted voters from not only the right-wing spectrum but also from among small entrepreneurs, and, even more, from among blue-collar workers who were afraid of losing their jobs to foreigners and who “seem[ed] to feel more identification with Mr. Haider’s sickly marketed nationalism than with the socialism of the old.”27 The FPÖ’s commitment to an “immigration stop,” and Haider’s keen ability to stir irrational fears of Überfremdung (overforeignization) did not end with his 1992 petition. In its literature, the party warns of “black African asylum seekers with designer suits and mobile phones” who “deal in drugs undisturbed.” It also claims that “a return to the nation” must be a founding principle of the Third Republic that it proposes. Anti-immigration posters were produced for the election campaign of 1999, because, as Haider associate Thomas Prinzhorn put it in an interview with the New York Times, “We are building ghettos that are not accepted here.” He argued, “We say stop, or severely limit, immigration until we can integrate the foreigners we have. Let’s take a breath. Our phone book in Vienna looks like New York’s!”28 Haider demanded that Austria not sign the European Human Rights Convention in case it moves toward a too liberal family-reunification policy. Haider argued that the “right of the citizen for a home is more important than the right of the foreigner for his family.” Thus, the FPÖ wants to introduce a Recht auf Heimat (right of a home) for Austrians. Austria should remain the Heimat for Austrians rather than become a country for asylees and immigrants. Consequently, Haider wants to establish an ethnic criterion for Austrian citizenship, although it might be difficult for even the keenest historian to determine Austrian blood ties and relationships among the Czechs, Slovaks, Bohemians, Hungarians, Germans, Italians, to name just a few of the ethnicities of people in Austria and the Habsburg empire. The FPÖ wants to redefine citizenship rights in a way that would never permit foreigners to become citizens, according to Brigitte Bailer-Galanda and Wolfgang Neugebauer. Haider’s party advocates rigidly limiting enrollment of foreign children in primary and secondary schools and enacting clear measures to prevent foreigners’ working illegally. Moreover, the FPÖ wants to stop immigration entirely and seeks to make this “zero immigration” principle part of the federal Constitution. With 14 percent of Austria’s population of eight million now made up of foreigners, many of them recent arrivals from the Balkans, this message has been well re— 136 —

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ceived by blue-collar workers and by those seeking a scapegoat for the threats, real or imagined, of globalization.29 Haider’s xenophobic, antiforeigner, and anti–Grand Coalition campaign paid off. In the general elections of October 3, 1999, his FPÖ won 27.2 percent of the popular vote. Haider took over a tired movement featuring a crew of ex-Nazis and free-market reformists that garnered only 4.9 percent of the vote in 1986. In the 1999 elections, Socialists remained the strongest party in the country, with 33.4 percent, while the ÖVP’s share fell to 26.9 percent. The Green Party won 7.1 percent of the vote. These elections broke—after months of debate among the possible government coalition partners—the thirty-year-long domination of the SPÖ and ÖVP when Wolfgang Schüssel, the head of the ÖVP, chose to work in a coalition government with Haider’s FPÖ and thereby made himself chancellor of the Republic.30 When the coalition government finally took office at a tense ceremony on February 5, 2000, a hundred thousand protesters clashed with riot police, and the diplomatic breach with EU member states widened. Before Austrian president Thomas Klestil sanctioned the coalition government of the ÖVP and FPÖ, he made Schüssel and Haider sign an extraordinary declaration promising adherence to the values of Europe, recognizing charters on peace and monetary union, and accepting responsibility for Nazism. The Pilatesian act may have been intended to symbolize his distance from the new government. Whatever its significance, his cautious step was soon followed by European governments’ publicly expressing disapproval of the coalition. The United States quickly recalled its ambassador “for consultations,” and European governments began minimizing their relations with Austria. The fourteen other member states of the EU decided to isolate Austrian officials and politicians through what was in Austria commonly referred to as “the EU sanctions.”31 The international media were unabashed about the Nazi shadow over the current Austrian political deal. On February 5, 2000, for example, the cover of France’s liberal daily Liberation carried the headline “The Brown Waltz”— referring to Vienna’s classic dance and brown-shirted storm troopers—and depicted Schüssel and Haider. When sanctions were imposed on Austria, all public and many private political debates centered upon those measures rather than on the social and economic policies of the new government. The public focused solely on the seemingly unfair treatment that Austria (in particular Austrian politicians) had been receiving internationally, and on the illegal intrusion into the internal affairs of a sovereign democracy. Attentive observers of the political climate in Austria argued that if new elections had taken place in mid-2000, as the continuous demonstrations and rallies against the government demanded, public support for this government would have grown from what it was in October, 1999. Thus, another feature of the Austrian political landscape—the “Jetzt erst recht” attitude (the “now we want it even more” attitude)—seemed to have reappeared. The same attitude had guaranteed Kurt — 137 —

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Waldheim’s electoral success in 1986 after the international press picked up on his Nazi past. Austrians were deeply alienated by the EU–14 member states’ reaction to the country’s democratic will. Even people who had traditionally opposed Haider and his marionette party were enraged about the “totalitarian EU response” to their country’s democratic choice. Indeed, when Italy had a neo-Fascist party in its government in 1994, Europe did not threaten to recall its diplomats, “nor did the Belgian foreign minister say it would be immoral to ski in the Italian Alps.”32 The EU–14, however, eventually lifted the sanctions in September, 2000, after sending “three wise men” to Austria to evaluate both the situation of minorities and the activities of the FPÖ. The men concluded that the government was fulfilling its role in guaranteeing the rights of refugees and other minorities, rights that were similar to or of a higher humanitarian standard than those in other EU countries, and that the FPÖ ministers, although members of a right-wing party, upheld their duties to diminish xenophobia in the country.33 It is noteworthy, however, that in matters of refugee and asylum admissions it was in general not necessary for the new center-right government of the ÖVP/FPÖ to promote restrictive policies because the previous Grand Coalition government had already passed and enacted limited-asylum and refugee laws. Xenophobia, flourishing independently of restrictive asylum and foreigner laws, has certainly contibuted to Jörg Haider’s successful reclaiming of Carinthia’s governorship in March of 2004. Just when the EU took decisive steps to advance economic and political integration, new nationalisms appeared on the scene that threatened Europe with old problems dressed up in new clothes. As Miroslav Hroch observed, two opposing tendencies challenge the constitutional future of the EU, “one seeking to make . . . Europe a continent of citizens irrespective of their ethnicity [with the exception of non-EU citizens], the other holding fast to traditional ethnic identities and trying to construct Europe as a unity of separate nation-states.”34 To do the former, Austria will first have to come to grips with its past and learn to reflect more critically upon both the anti-Semitic elements in its culture and the often xenophobic approaches toward others. The path from the Island of the Blessed to the current culture of unease is, for this observer, a healthy development experienced by many young democracies. The Austrian people, however, need to dismantle the populist rhetoric of Jörg Haider and abandon his marionette party first. By reelecting Haider in the gubernatorial election of 2004, Carinthians, however, have shown that they are not ready to engage in these steps to advance in this direction. Although Austria and the EU are in the process of creating a “fortress Europe,” the poor and desperate will continue to seek access to the wealthy North/West. Only with an educated and tolerant body of citizens will both the country and the continent be able to escape a large-scale right-wing rad— 138 —

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icalization. It is possible for Austrians eventually to shed their curious ambiguity between the typical verbal reflex “naja” (“no-yes” or “well-yes”) and face the country’s past as well as its future. What might be lost in the process, however, is the ambivalent character that made the Austrian Gemütlichkeit famous, among the Sachertorte (Sacher tort) and the nostalgia for the AustrianHungarian empress Elisabeth—affectionately called “Sissi.” Thus, if Austrians really try to become more European, they might consequently become more German. Meanwhile, Bosnians and refugees and aliens from other regions of the world will continue to experience, at best, Austrian ambiguity—through asylum and assistance procedures that do not allow for reasonable living standards during their initial acclimatization period. At worst, these newcomers will face continuous discrimination on the job and in housing markets, prejudice and intolerance in public spaces, and extensive xenophobia. Considering Austria’s ingrained and institutionalized inequity, Bosnian refugees and, more recently, asylum seekers from Kosovo, Iraq, and Afghanistan, as well as guest workers, might remain tolerated but unwanted and without any real chance of integrating.

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FROM 1992 TO 1995, approximately 2.2 million Bosnian people were expelled from their homes in the former Yugoslavia. As the Bosnians fled from the ethno-national violence and terror that had overtaken their country, they encountered the policies of a post–Cold War world. Western democracies, including Austria and the United States, have increasingly perceived the migrants and refugees seeking to enter their territories as threats to inner stability and security, or economic well-being, or both. Those Bosnians who crossed international boundaries in search of safety and relief were perceived and treated in different ways from earlier Cold War refugees. Western governments sought to limit their countries’ responsibilities toward asylum seekers and refugees. The Bosnians’ experiences have to be understood within the broader historical, political, and economic conditions of the two receiving countries, with respect to their refugee policies, and within the structural framework of the two reception systems. I analyzed the linkages between the macro and micro, highlighting processes of change at each level in each place.

From Resettlement to Containment n the macro level, a pragmatic shift from refugee protection to refugee prevention occurred in the liberal democracies of the North/West in the 1990s. Officials portrayed their restrictive regimes’ measures as necessary to check abuses of refugee status by individuals seeking a better life in the affluent North/West. Other shifts in refugee policies moved toward the exclusion of asylum seekers. The policies of in-country protection, safe areas, and the TPS failed to address the urgent needs of highly vulnerable populations in areas experiencing conflict, such as Bosnia. It can be argued that such policies helped lead to humanitarian disasters such as the killing of more than seven thousand civilians at Srebrenica. If exclusion is not possible, repatriation is the interna-

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Conclusion

tional community’s preferred solution for refugees, although there is no hard evidence to suggest that return improves the refugees’ basic civil, political, or socioeconomic living conditions. In contrast, I argued that in certain cases (e.g., that of the Bosnian refugees) repatriation might be more traumatic than resettlement in third countries. Western governments, in short, are engaging in a political-paradigm shift that focuses on a new, inhumane approach toward asylum seekers and refugees. Refugee law is indeed becoming immigration law, as Alexander Aleinikoff has argued, which emphasizes the protection of borders rather than the protection of people in need.1 Refugees do not fit into state-security frameworks; their existence, in fact, challenges notions of sovereignty and state security. B. S. Chimni has argued that international humanitarian organizations and many refugee-studies scholars aid Western liberal democracies that seek to protect themselves from refugees rather than to provide protection for refugees, based on an understanding that people fleeing civil wars or other crises are different from traditional Convention refugees.2 In reality, however, refugee movements are centuries-old phenomena and not new in the post–Cold War world. Nevertheless, nation-states remain the final arbiters in the implementation of refugee-protection measures. The concepts of safe third country, internalflight alternative, TPS, and voluntary return of Bosnian and other refugees to their homelands shifted the cardinal principle of non-refoulement—the prohibition of the expulsion of refugees to the countries where their lives are threatened or in danger—toward a newly legitimized concept of (often involuntary) repatriation. The Austrian parliament, like the legislatures of most European countries and the U.S. Congress, passed legislation restricting asylum and focusing on containing refugees, preferably in the areas of conflict, and on repatriating them to their places of origin. Austria did not grant political asylum to Bosnian refugees. Instead, the Austrian government ensured an arbitrary and inconsistent response to Bosnian nationals seeking to cross the border. Although a number of Bosnians in my Austrian sample, for example, entered and remained in the country after having spent months in Serbian or Croatian refugee camps, some explained that their relatives had been rejected and could not join them because they had to travel through so-called safe third countries in order to reach Austria. The Austrian Federal Asylum Office denied asylum to applicants who had been raped by paramilitary forces. The implementation of TPS for Bosnians finally resulted in the de facto suspension of Bosnian asylum claims. The 1998 requirements for refugees and asylum seekers substantially limited the responsibility of the state toward the potential asylum seekers and restricted access to the procedure through administrative and political means. The Austrian state successfully circumvented responsibility for Bosnian refugees by passing and enforcing restrictive alien and asylum legislation. Austria, however, is by no means unique in its approach toward refugees. — 141 —

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The 1996 U.S. Illegal Immigration Reform and Immigration Responsibility Act (IIRIRA) changed the key concepts of entry, exclusion, and deportation in U.S. immigration law. This policy change moved the U.S. asylum system closer in its political premise to the practice of prevention through exclusion, which is currently employed by Austria and other European Union states. IIRIRA eliminated the distinction between deportation and exclusion proceedings, creating a single “removal” proceeding to determine the admissibility of refugees. In fact, U.S. measures, such as the interdiction program for Haitian refugees, produced the same dilemmas for potential refugees in or on their way to U.S. territory as the safe-third-country and safe-country-oforigin clauses produced for refugees in Europe. I have argued that both the Austrian and U.S. governments enacted policies limiting the access of certain undesired refugee groups by narrowly interpreting the basic instruments of international human rights and protection. In Austria, Bosnian refugees were not considered victims of state persecution, and the involvement of both the Serbian government in Belgrade and the Yugoslav National Army ( JNA) in the war was entirely ignored. The Austrian government claimed that the refugees had fled a civil war in which the combatants were private, non-state-related actors, or that they had arrived in Austria via Slovenia or Hungary, both considered safe third countries where they could have applied for asylum. Such interpretations denied a large number of Bosnians the rights of asylum and formal Convention-refugee status. In short, it seems that Bosnians were unwanted (by the government and by a large segment of the population) in Austria. International efforts to keep refugees in their areas of origin throughout the Bosnian War were largely unsuccessful, if not inappropriate. The Serbs continued to shell and bomb “safe” areas during this time. Staying in the war zone prolonged the misery of these displaced persons. Despite the 1995 signing of the Dayton Agreement, thousands of Bosnians are still refugees or internally displaced and in need of protection or a place to live.

The Austrian TPS and the U.S. Resettlement Schemes y fieldwork focused on Bosnian refugees arriving in the 1990s in Vienna and New York City. While Bosnian nationals received temporary protection and very limited residence rights in Austria, their counterparts in the United States held refugee status and full residence rights. These U.S. and Austrian refugee populations, however, demonstrated markedly similar processes of socioeconomic adaptation. This was the case for both men and women, despite the differences in the two states’ refugee and welfare policies. Restrictive Austrian employment policies resulted in the increased participation of Bosnian refugees in the black labor market. Bosnian women, rather than men, in Vienna (more so than in New York City) found the first jobs in their families

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in the low- and unskilled sectors of the Austrian black labor market. Women were less selective and were willing to take any available job. Bosnian men, it seems, did not adapt quickly to the segregation of the labor market in Austria and to their loss of social status. As the job market gradually opened up for them and they began holding jobs legally, Bosnians became eligible for unemployment benefits and for emergency relief aid because both benefits are based upon employees’ previous contributions to the Department of Social Security in Austria. Moreover, women benefited from the Maternity Law, the Law on Parental Leave, and the Law on Family Benefits because, when requirements were met, these benefits were granted to foreigners and Austrian nationals alike. Thus, whether their host society is a welfare state (e.g., Austria or Germany), or a liberal state, in which public assistance and social services are of less importance (e.g., the United States), makes a difference for individual refugees. In New York City, the differences in men’s and women’s involvement in the free-market economy were less striking than in Vienna, where women’s work was influenced by the particular demands of the black labor market. Women’s participation in the low-skill labor market in the United States appeared to be at the discretion of individual families’ decisions and the mediumand long-term objectives of those families. After their arrival in the United States, Bosnians could take advantage of an extensive resettlement program based on a public-private partnership providing a wide variety of services. The problem with the U.S. public-private partnership in resettlement issues is that individual agencies frequently depend entirely on federal funding, which is based on agencies’ success in resettling refugees, that is, the number of economically self-sufficient refugees it creates. Thus, agencies must make placing refugees in jobs as soon as possible after their arrival their main objective. Refugees are frequently sent to work in dead-end, low-paying jobs in factories, tourism, or construction where long hours are required. In the United States, resettlement schemes pay little attention to the cultural acclimatization of the refugees, making it very difficult for them to find time to study English and take the equivalency tests that most professionals need to pass if they want to work in their professions in the United States. As Bosnian refugee women’s involvement in the Austrian black labor market shows, refugees themselves are by no means passively enduring their fate but are active participants in their host communities, shaping their settlement experience with all means possible to better their socioeconomic lot. In general, the refugees used all resources available to them to progress both socially and economically in both New York City and Vienna. Paradoxically, even with the quite different structural settlement arrangements of the two countries, refugees were forced into the lowest socioeconomic status in both countries. Employment in either place generally represented a decline in status. Individual welfare provisions and the structural arrangement of settlement-support — 143 —

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schemes in Austria and the United States were primarily responsible for the refugees’ socioeconomic lot during their initial settlement. While most Bosnians in my sample had to find jobs in the black market to secure their initial economic survival in both Vienna and New York City, refugees’ enrollment in the Austrian Bund-Länder Aktion secured at least their health benefits. Moreover, many Bosnian women in Austria could rely on a complex network of relationships that included a substantial number of benevolent Austrian citizens or guest workers from the former Yugoslavia, who provided them with socioeconomic support and advice during their initial settlement. Informal networks aided the refugee women in practical and social problem solving, particularly in Austria. Bosnian women found (illegal) jobs through these networks there. The creation of similar networks was simply not necessary for women in New York because, as legal refugees, they held work permits immediately upon arrival and were placed in jobs by volunteer agencies. I realize the danger of oversimplifying the refugees’ complex interactive networks in both countries. In general, however, it appears that most Bosnian women in my Austrian sample were able to integrate into their new socioeconomic environment, while Bosnian women (and men) in New York City frequently felt that they lacked interaction with U.S. citizens. They continued to live in very close web relationships with their relatives and a few Bosnian friends, most of whom they knew before their flight. Bosnian men in both societies also engaged in web relationships, typical for high-context cultures, and elaborated them to syncretic web relations by including a number of select new acquaintances, who usually shared a similar history with them. Thus, the Bosnians in my New York sample lived more isolated lives than the Bosnians in my Vienna sample and, although they frequently socialized, it was mostly with a few select old friends. While Bosnians in New York thought of themselves as being strangers and displaced in U.S. society—in short, uprooted— Bosnian men in Vienna perceived themselves as being discriminated against and harassed—in short, unwanted—by the Austrian bureaucratic apparatus and the population. One surprising result of my study was that Bosnian refugee women in Vienna expressed more contentment with their adaptation than women in the United States did, even though the former experienced more overt economic and social discrimination. Although they adopted similar livelihood strategies in both host societies, the Bosnian refugee women in my Austria sample articulated more satisfaction with their host community, emphasizing their socioeconomic achievements and social networks rather than their loneliness and isolation. Bosnians in New York City live in a multicultural environment and encounter many other ethnic groups in their daily lives. Realizing that they did not know many U.S.-born citizens, many Bosnians in my sample were not fully satisfied with their integration into New York’s society. — 144 —

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These differences are intriguing because, in Austria, Bosnians were served by a state-controlled support scheme that provided little room for social interactions with natives and other migrants at the outset. Inter- and intragroup integration into the Yugoslav guest-worker and the Bosnian community, respectively, however, was possible for many Bosnians (especially women) in Austria, because the intergroup integration occurred along class lines (and often resulted in class conflicts) in Austria, while it was defined according to ethnic identity markers in New York City. Bosnians’ integration into the Croat or Serb expatriate communities in New York City seemed not possible. None of the interviewed Bosnians in my New York sample had attempted to associate with Croats or Serbs living in the same city. However, the Bosnians in Queens were very successful in creating their own community there, which included Bosnian cafés, pizzerias, restaurants, a grocery store, and a newspaper. Class was the primary intergroup differentiating factor among working Bosnian women in Austria, while working Bosnian women in the United States differentiated themselves from other groups more through their ethnicity. Ethnicity defined Bosnian men’s identity in both cities. In contrast to Bosnians in the United States, however, many Bosnians in Austria realized that total and long-term integration into mainstream society would not be possible because of institutional and socioeconomic discrimination and widespread xenophobia.

Gendered Adaptation of Refugee Women and Men here are numerous studies supporting the claim that women’s migration to Western countries results in increased independence because of their participation in the labor market. These works emphasize the praxis of the separation and systematic distinction between the private and public spheres. Furthermore, various authors apply the same definitions of these spheres to different newcomer groups. They imply that only public-sphere participation can provide equality between the sexes and lead to women’s emancipation. Although women have always worked, for many newcomers, work in their countries of origin was not paid labor—for example, women frequently worked with their husbands on their farms without pay—and their work was not seen as active participation in the market economy. I have written critically of the mainstream feminist approach in immigration studies as too often presuming that Western models of living are more liberating for women. Moreover, those studies tend to assume that economic upward mobility is the rule during resettlement and that female migrants desire and seek socioeconomic emancipation from their male partners through wage labor. Neither of these assumptions, however, rang true for the Bosnian refugee women in my sample. Because emancipation based on achieving social and economic equality is frequently emphasized, we do not look beyond gender-role issues to the

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structural issues of inequality in societies of settlement. Feminist works in the field of immigration and refugee studies rarely provide historical analyses of the refugee or migrant groups or coherent sociological models of their interactions with new environments. The Bosnian women in my sample participated in the labor market in both host societies out of economic necessity. They did not seek sociopolitical or economic liberation from their families and husbands. Indeed, most of them maintained their social and traditional roles (as mothers, wives, and daughters) and did not seek new identities as emancipated women in liberal and supposedly gender-neutral societies. As might be the case in many other refugee and migrant groups, Bosnian women sought to preserve their culture and traditions in exile. Moreover, Bosnian women, who had experienced the structural inequality of Tito’s Yugoslavia in all facets of their daily lives, were not necessarily likely to buy into the liberal feminist rhetoric of emancipation through wage labor. They had heard these arguments, propagandized by the Communist Party of Yugoslavia, for decades and had found that participation in the labor market did not necessarily liberate them.

Theoretical Outlook he different Bosnian groups in my sample showed different patterns of integration within the larger Bosnian community as well as within other minority groups in the society of settlement. Because of the refugees’ continuous relationship with Bosnia, it is not easy to understand the Bosnian refugee community as an ethnic group within the context of the countries of exile. Bosnian refugees did not define their ethnicity through their relationship to the majority in the country of settlement as much as through their relationship to Bosnia. Wahlbeck found similar patterns of ethnic-identity formation among Kurdish refugees.3 As of 2003, Bosnians still perceived themselves as “Europe’s Palestinians,” in the sense that their home country no longer exists (at least in the way that they knew and loved it before the war). Although this self-perception may well change over time, this feature was very evident among the relatively recently arrived refugees in this study. The refugees’ adaptation to their own expatriate communities and the host society is a complex, lifelong, and continuously changing endeavor. Egon Kunz linked the processes of integration with classifications of different types of refugee migration.4 His model, however, does not seem to sufficiently take into account the refugees’ ongoing sociopsychological alterations in their adaptation and acculturation processes. The reason for flight is not the only factor influencing the refugee in exile. Instead of elaborate classifications of various types of refugee migration, fruitful research on the social reality in which refugees live is needed, including research into both their host societies and their native homes. It can be argued that neither the United States nor

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Austria has understood the specific nature of refugee settlement, although they approach the issue from totally different perspectives. I have argued here that the United States adopted an outsourcing process with a strong link to local agencies, while Austria employed a hierarchically structured support scheme with the objective of short-term aid rather than settlement. There were notable differences in the social networks and social integration in the two countries. Although all Bosnian refugees used their networks to solve the problems they faced in the country of settlement, the role played by social networks was most important for Bosnian women in Austria, who could be seen as having been “triply oppressed”—by their host society, their ethnicity, and their gender. Thus, I have argued for an extension of the argument that the different policies of the receiving countries influenced how refugees integrated. Specifically, to improve their socioeconomic lot, refugees responded actively to the political, social, and economic conditions of the host countries. My findings suggest that the structures and policies of the receiving societies determined the refugees’ initial ability to integrate. By stressing the importance of structures and policies I avoid using theoretical frameworks that suggest that migrants choose between integration and nonintegration. Such theoretical frameworks do not address the profound importance of various exclusionary structures within receiving societies (e.g., Austria’s xenophobia and systematic discrimination in the job market). Yet, it is most important to remember that refugees are independent actors and that there is an interaction between structure and agency. Hence, the inclusive and exclusive processes within host societies have a profound effect on the social organization of the Bosnian refugee community.

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Notes

Introduction 1. For the conditions of Bosnian refugees in Scandinavian countries, see Kathleen Valtonen, “Resettlement of Middle Eastern Refugees in Finland: The Elusiveness of Integration,” Journal of Refugee Studies 11, no. 1 (March, 1998): 38–60; Grete Brochmann, “Bosnian Refugees in Scandinavian Countries: A Comparative Perspective on Immigration Control in the 1990s,” New Community 23, no. 4 (October, 1997): 495–509; Joanne van Selm-Thorburn, Refugee Protection in Europe: Lessons of the Yugoslav Crisis; Hannes Tretter, ed., Temporary Protection für bosnische Flüchtlinge in Europa: Länderberichte (Vienna: Verlag Österreich, 2000). For a study that focuses on the refugees’ nationalism, see Marita Eastmond, “Nationalist Discourses and the Construction of Difference: Bosnian Muslim Refugees in Sweden,” Journal of Refugee Studies 11, no. 2 ( June, 1998): 161–81. 2. United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR), Refugees by Numbers:  Edition, 4; UNHCR, “Estimated Number of Persons of Concern Who Fall under the Mandate of UNHCR—January 1, 2003,” http://www.unhcr.ch/cgi-bin/texis/vtx/statistics. 3. To do this, I believe that the object and purpose of study in the field of international relations is “the identification and explanation of social stratification and of inequality as structured at the level of global relations.” With her work on feminism, Sarah Brown has demonstrated convincingly that this understanding of international relations has been marginalized and is constrained by the way the discipline has developed. Sarah Brown, “Feminism, International Theory, and International Relations of Gender Inequality,” Millennium: Journal of International Studies 17, no. 3 (Winter 1988): 461. 4. Östen Wahlbeck, Kurdish Diasporas: A Comparative Study of Kurdish Refugee Communities (New York: St. Martin’s, 1999), 2. 5. Wahlbeck, Kurdish Diasporas. 6. Jacqueline Bhabha has pointed toward a similar policy in the United States. She describes a classic example in the case of Campos-Guardado v. INS, 809 F.2d 285 (5th Cir.1987), in which a Salvadoran woman, raped by government vigilantes after being forced to watch her antigovernment uncle and cousins being hacked to death, was denied asylum because the attackers’ reprisals against her were merely “personally motivated.” Jacqueline Bhabha, “Embodied Rights: Gender Persecution, State Sovereignty, and Refugees,” Public Culture 9, no. 1 (Fall 1996): 3–32.

Notes to Pages 6–11 7. Peter Nyers, “Emergency or Emerging Identities? Refugees and Transformations in World Order,” Millennium: Journal of International Studies 28, no. 1 (1999): 1–26; B. S. Chimni, “The Geopolitics of Refugee Studies: A View from the South,” Journal of Refugee Studies 11, no. 1 (December, 1998): 350–51; Gervase Coles, “The Human Rights Approach to the Solution of the Refugee Problem: A Theoretical and Practical Enquiry,” in Human Rights and the Protection of Refugees under International Law, ed. Alan Nash, 195–222 (Nova Scotia: Institute for Research on Public Policy, 1988); Gervase Coles, “Approaching the Refugee Problem Today,” in Refugees and International Relations, ed. Gil Loescher and Laila Monahan, 373–410 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1989); see also Daniele Joly, Refugees: Asylum in Europe? (London: Minority Rights Publication, 1992). 8. Claudena Skan, Refugees in Inter-war Europe (Oxford: Clarendon, 1995), 4–5. 9. Jacqueline Bhabha, “Legal Problems of Women Refugees,” Women: A Cultural Review 4, no. 3 (1993): 239–49. 10. Alexander Aleinikoff, “State-Centered Refugee Law: From Resettlement to Containment,” in Mistrusting Refugees, ed. E. Valentine Daniel and John Knudsen, 257–78 (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1995); Michael Marrus, The Unwanted: European Refugees in the Twentieth Century (New York: Oxford University Press, 1985); Gil Loescher, Beyond Charity: International Cooperation and the Global Refugee Crisis (New York: Oxford University Press, 1994), 148. 11. For example, Jeremy Hein, States and International Migrants: The Incorporation of Indochinese Refugees in the United States and France (Boulder: Westview, 1993); Steven Gold, Refugee Communities: A Comparative Field Study (Newbury Park: Sage Publications, 1992). 12. Mirjana Morokvasic, “‘In and Out’ of the Labor Market: Immigrant and Minority Women in Europe,” New Community 19, no. 3 (April, 1993): 476. 13. In fact, in 2003 the Austrian government proposed a new asylum bill that was, according to some observers in the human rights field, contradicting both the Austrian Constitution and such international instruments as the 1951 United Nations Convention relating to the Status of Refugees. For example, the rejection of an asylum claim would result in the immediate expulsion of the asylum seeker. Jörg Wojahn, “UNHCR-Chef misstraut Asylbescheiden in Österreich,” Der Standard, July 12, 2003, 30; “Neues Asylrecht ist für Amnesty gesetzwidrig,” Der Standard, May 28, 2003, 10. 14. Uwe Wenzel and Mathias Bös, “Immigration and the Modern Welfare State:The Case of USA and Germany,” New Community 23, no. 4 (October, 1997): 537–48. 15. Wahlbeck, Kurdish Diasporas, 194; Marjorie DeVault, “Talking and Listening from Women’s Standpoint: Feminist Strategies for Interviewing and Analysis,” Social Problems 37, no. 1 (February, 1990): 96–116. I also conducted key interviews with officials and others involved in refugee activities, such as members of nongovernmental organizations, refugeeresettlement agencies, governmental organizations (e.g., officials of the Austrian Ministry of Labor and Social Affairs and the Department of Integration and Migration of the Austrian Ministry for the Interior, as well as officials from the Bosnian Embassy). I interviewed nineteen key persons in Vienna and sixteen in New York City. Thus, the profile of the refugee community that I assembled, the information from key interviewees, and my initial research of written documents about refugee settlement in both countries provided a framework for identifying appropriate interviewees. With the Bosnian refugees, I conducted the interviews mostly in the homes of the interviewees, but some were also conducted in restaurants, cafés, parks, and other public places. The average length of the interviews was two hours. Only one interview, in a refugee camp in Austria, was completed with the help of an interpreter. The other interviews were in German in Austria and in English in the United States. Only one of the interviews was tape-recorded (and later transcribed) because I found that the interviewees

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Notes to Pages 12–20 in general felt more comfortable talking without a taping device present. During the interviews I took notes that I fleshed out immediately afterward. 16. Kathryn Anderson and Dana Jack, “Learning to Listen: Interview Techniques and Analysis,” in Women’s Words: The Feminist Practice of Oral History, ed. Sherna Berger Gluck and Daphne Patai (New York: Routledge, 1991), 11. 17. Christopher Hill, “Where Are We Going? International Relations and the Voice from Below,” Review of International Studies 25, no. 1 ( January, 1999): 107–22; R. B. J. Walker, “Security, Identity, Community: Reflections on the Horizons of Contemporary Political Practice,” in Contending Sovereignties: Redefining Political Community, ed. R. B. J. Walker and Saul Mendlovitz (Boulder, Colo.: Lynne Pienner Publishers, 1990), 182.

Chapter 1 The chapter epigraph has been taken from BIH Ekskluziv, November 19, 1993, as cited in Norman Cigar, Genocide in Bosnia: the Policy of ‘Ethnic Cleansing’ (College Station:Texas A&M University Press, 1995), 1. 1. For example, Irene Stacher, “Bosnia and Herzegovina,” (unpublished paper, International Centre for Migration Policy Development, Vienna, 1999); José Fischel De Andreade and Nicole Barbara Delaney, “Minority Return to South-Eastern Bosnia and Herzegovina: A Review of the 2000 Return Season,” Journal of Refugee Studies 14, no. 3 (September, 2001):316. 2. U.S. Department of State, “Fact Sheet:Admissions Program for the Former Yugoslavia,” January 18, 2000, http://www.info.gov/www/global/pmr; United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees, Refugees and Others of Concern for UNHCR—1999 Statistical Overview (Table I.2), “Refugee Population by the Country of Asylum and Origin, 1997–98,” http://www.unhcr.ch/statist/98oview/tab5_1.htm; De Andreade and Delaney, “Minority Return,” 316, U.S. Committee for Refugees, World Refugee Survey  (Washington, D.C.: USCR, 2003), 236. 3. Susan Woodward, Balkan Tragedy: Chaos and Dissolution after the Cold War (Washington, D.C.: Brookings Institution Press, 1995), 15. 4. Michel Chossudovsky, “Dismantling Former Yugoslavia: Recolonizing Bosnia,” Economic and Political Weekly 21, no. 9 (March 2, 1996): 521–22; Geoffrey Swain and Nigel Swain, Eastern Europe since  (New York: St. Martin’s, 1994), 215–19. 5. Sabrina Ramet defines Yugoslavia’s self-management as follows: “Self-management, originally conceived narrowly as referring to the network of workers’ councils, which were to administer factories and other enterprises and thereby initiate the process of the withering away of the state, came, in time, to be construed much more broadly, meaning workeroriented, free, self-actualizing, and progressive all at the same time.” See Sabrina Ramet, “In Tito’s Time,” in Gener Politics in the Western Balkans: Women and Society in Yugoslavia and the Yugoslav Successor States, edited by Sabrina Ramet (University Park: Pennyslvania State University Press, 1999), 91. 6. Swain and Swain, Eastern Europe, 215–19; James Petras and Steve Vieux, “Bosnia and the Revival of U.S. Hegemony,” New Left Review (London) 218 ( July/August, 1996): 10–11. 7. Petras and Vieux, “Bosnia and the Revival,” 11. 8. Noel Malcolm, Bosnia: A Short History (New York: New York University Press, 1994), 211–12. 9. Petras and Vieux, “Bosnia and the Revival,” 10. 10. Statistics in Tone Bringa, Being Muslim the Bosnian Way: Identity and Community in a Central Bosnian Village (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1995), 26; Mark Thompson, A Paper House: The Ending of Yugoslavia (London: Vintage, 1992), 91.

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Notes to Pages 20–25 11. Confidentiality has been of utmost importance, and accordingly, the anonymity of the Bosnian respondents and interviewees has been protected both in the research and the writing. 12. Petras and Vieux, “Bosnia and the Revival,” 12. 13. In this context, Lenard Cohen refers to a dialogue between Franjo Tudjman and one of his closest associates from 1991, Josip Manoli´c, who broke with Tudjman in 1994. Tudjman claimed that Croatia was bereft of “real friends” when it made its push for international recognition. Commenting on that view, Manoli´c reminded the president that Croatia did have such friends during its struggle for independence and international recognition:“Think of the support of Mr. Kohl, the German Chancellor, Mr. Genscher, his deputy, the support of the Vatican and the Pope. Mr. Cossiga, the Italian President, his visit to Croatia. You should not forget the very intense communications and help offered by friendly Austria.” Lenard Cohen, Broken Bonds: Yugoslavia’s Disintegration and Balkan Politics in Transition (Boulder, Colo.: Westview, 1995), 267n27; Petras and Vieux, “Bosnia and the Revival,” 12; John Sweeney, “How Bosnia Paid Price of Major’s Maastricht Opt-Out Coup,” Observer, September 17, 1995, 1. 14. In Bosnia’s history there had been brief moments of autonomy or quasi-independence since 1463—in 1831, 1878, and 1918. Commentators in 1992 were quick to point out that Bosnia had spent the intervening 529 years as part of two empires, a kingdom and a Communist federal republic. Bosnia could never be a state, they argued, because it was home to three different nationalities. In history it existed only as part of a larger whole. Malcolm correctly pointed out that to claim one single nationality as the most important basis for statehood would exclude the majority of the more than 170 member states of the United Nations from statehood. The situation also raises the question of whether nation-states are the only viable states. In the case of Bosnia, however, it can also be argued that history shows not that Bosnia had to be kept in check by a larger power to prevent it from destroying itself from within, but almost the opposite. What had always endangered Bosnia were not any genuinely internal tensions but, as Malcolm put it, the ambitions of larger powers and neighboring states. The so-called ethnic or national animosities within the country have reached the point of interethnic violence as a result of outside pressures only. Malcolm, Bosnia, 122, 234–35; Marc Champion, “Bosnian Vote for Greater Serbia,” Independent, November 12, 1991, 11; Chuck Sudetic, “Yugoslav Groups Reach an Accord,” New York Times, March 19, 1992, A9. 15. Cohen, Broken Bonds, 244–46. 16. Petras and Vieux, “Bosnia and the Revival,” 7–8; Domovina Net, “History of the Conflict in Ex-Yugoslavia,” http://www.xs4all.nl/~frankti/Warhistory/war_hist.html; Associated Press, “Key Dates in Yugoslavia’s War,” http://www.usatoday.com/news/index/bosnia /nbos014.htm. 17. Thomas Friedman, “US Will Not Push Bosnia to Accept Bosnia Peace Plan,” New York Times, February 4, 1993, 1; Owen, cited in R. W. Apple, “Mediator Is Upset at US Reluctance over Bosnia Talks,” New York Times, February 3, 1993, A1. 18. Tim Judah, The Serbs: History, Myth and the Destruction of Yugoslavia (New Haven, Conn.: Yale University Press, 1997), 232–33. 19. Ibid., 232–34. 20. The Final Report of the United Nations Commission of Experts Established Pursuant to Security Council Resolution  (1992) S/1994/674/Annexis VIII, 221, as cited in Judah, The Serbs, 233–34. 21. Ivana Nizich, “Crime and Punishment,” War Report, (May, 1995):25, 28;David Owen, Balkan Odyssey (New York: Harcourt, 1995), 329, 353. 22. Petras and Vieux, “Bosnia and the Revival,” 12–13. 23. Wolfgang Petritsch, ed., Bosnien und Herzegowina:  Jahre nach Dayton hat der Friede eine Chance? (Klagenfurt: Wieser Verlag, 2001) 425–48; Ombudsmen of the Federation of Bosnia and Herzegovina, “Key Events in Bosnia in 1994 and 1995, with Annotations of CSCE/

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Notes to Pages 26–32 OSCE Mission and Federation Omsbudsmen,” http://www.curriculumunits.com/crucible/ whunts/bosnia_chronology.htm. 24. As a consequence of Dutch peacekeepers’ involvement in the massacre at Srebrenica, the entire Dutch cabinet resigned on April 16, 2002, about a month before the general elections on May 15, 2002. Ill-equipped and -trained Dutch units watched passively as Serb troops separated men and women and drove them away in trucks. Dutch peacekeepers in Srebrenica were caught on film dancing drunkenly after Bosnian Serb forces carried out the worst atrocity in Europe since the Second World War. Ambrose Evans-Pritchard, “Dutch Cabinet Resigns over Serb Massacre,” News Telegraph, April 17, 2002, http://news.telegraph.co.uk/news /main.jhtml?xml=/news/2002/04/17/wkok17.xml. 25. Domovina Net, “History of the Conflict”; Associated Press, “Key Dates.” 26. Domovina Net, “History of the Conflict”; Associated Press, “Key Dates.” 27. Tim Ito, “Overview: Bosnia and Herzegovina,” http://www.washingtonpost.com /wp-srv/inatl/longterm/balkans/overview/bosnia.htm; Peter Brock, “Dateline Yugoslavia: The Partisan Press,” Foreign Policy 93 (Winter, 1993–94): 152–73; Petras and Vieux, “Bosnia and the Revival,” 16–23. 28. Another, one might argue, less fortunate result of the rigid peace deal might have been reflected in the advancement of nationalist parties in the 2000 elections. When general elections were held in Bosnia in November 2000, including parliamentary elections in its constituent entities, the Muslim-Croat federation and the Serb Republic, these resulted in the multi-ethnic Social Democratic Party’s moving from third to first place in the Muslim-Croat area, closely followed by the Muslim nationalist Party of Democratic Action (SDA). The Croatian Democratic Union (HDZ), which had been first in the area that the Croat minority shared with Bosnia’s majority Muslims, was third. In the Serb half of the state, however, the nationalist Serb Democratic Party (SDS) retained its lead. CNN, “Picture Changes in Bosnian Elections,” http://edition.cnn.com/2000/WORLD/europe/11/10/bosnia.parties /index.html. 29. Petras and Vieux, “Bosnia and the Revival,” 16.

Chapter 2 1. Benedict Anderson, “Imagined Communities,” in Nationalism, ed. John Hutchinson and Anthony Smith, 89–96 (New York: Oxford University Press, 1994). 2. Judith Kumin, “Asylum in Europe:Sharing or Shifting the Burden?” USCR Worldwide Refugee Information, http://www.refugees.org/world/articles/europe_wrs95.htm. 3. Joanne van Selm-Thorburn, “Asylum in the Amsterdam Treaty: A Harmonious Future?” Journal of Ethnic and Migration Studies 24, no. 4 (October, 1998): 613–25. 4. Bete Puntervold Bo, “The ‘Triple Role’ of Government in Asylum and Refugee Policies,” in Exclusion and Inclusion of Refugees in Contemporary Europe, ed. Philip Muus (Oxford: CSMER, 1996), 41. 5. Tony Barber and Charles Richards, “Knocking on Europe’s Back Door,” Independent, May 24, 1992, 12; Andrew Marshall, “Fears of Racism Put Up Walls All over Europe,” Independent, ( July 18, 1992): 10; Andrew Marshall, “New Wave of Refugees Faces Sealed Borders,” Independent, July 6, 1992, 8. 6. Bosnian refugee numbers in European host countries in 1992 vary considerably, depending on the source. The data here reflect UNHCR figures. The UNHCR is traditionally rather conservative in its estimates of refugees and displaced peoples. The Directorate of the Republic of Bosnia and Herzegovina for Displaced Persons and Refugees’ estimates were, for example, considerably higher, but the U.S. Committee for Refugees (USCR) roughly confirms the UNHCR numbers. Stephen Kinzer, “Germany Easing Curbs on Bosnians,” New

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Notes to Pages 32–35 York Times, July 21, 1992, A6; Martin Linton, “Clarke ‘Slams Door’ on War Refugees,” Guardian, November 6, 1992, 24; Ian Traynor, “Million Bosnians Flee Their Homes,” Guardian, July 15, 1992, 1; Marshall, “New Wave of Refugees Faces Sealed Borders;” Timea Fréchet, “The Situation of Refugees and Displaced Persons Originating from the Territory of Former Yugoslavia” (unpublished paper submitted for the Simulated Extraordinary Session of the General Assembly of the U. N. Conference on Ways and Means to Solve the Problems of Refugees and Displaced Persons Originating in the Territory of Former Yugoslavia, Vienna, March, 1994, 5–6); USCR, “Refugees Admitted to the United States, by Nationality, 1985–98,” http://www.refugees.org/world/articles/arrivals4_rr98_12.htm; USCR, “Regular Admissions Ceilings and Admissions to the United States, 1998–2000,” http://www.refugees.org /world/articles/arrivals4_rr98_12.htm. 7. USCR, “Country Report: Denmark,” http://www.refugees.org/world/countryrpt /europe/denmark.htm. 8. Puntervold Bo, “‘Triple Role’ of Government,” 46. 9. Eleonore Kofman and Rosemary Sales, “Migrant Women and Exclusion in Europe,” European Journal of Women’s Studies 2 (1998): 383. 10. Statistical data on refugee arrivals in such “crisis” situations can always be called into question. The Austrian authorities certainly used the largest possible figures both to provoke reactions and possible aid schemes from other European countries and to recognize the magnitude of the effect on Austria of its neighbors’ war. The number of thirty thousand Bosnians entering Austria before August, 1992, was cited in Wolfgang Taucher, “Ausgewählte Fragen zur vorübergehenden Schutzgewährung im Völkerrecht anhad der Aufnahme von bosnischen Schutzsuchenden in Österreich,” Austrian Journal of Public and International Law 49 (1995): 230; Linton, “Clarke ‘Slams Door,’” 24; Traynor, “Million Bosnians Flee Their Homes,” 1. 11. Abkommen zwischen der Bundesregierung der Republik Österreich und der Regierung der Sozialistischen Föderativen Republik Jugoslavien über die Aufhebung der Sichtvermerkspflicht, government document BBBl. 1965/365 idF des Notenwechsels vom 21.12. 1982 und 04.01.1983, BGBl. 1983/117; BG vom .. betreffend das Passwesen, government document BGBl. 1969/74 idF 1991/406; BG vom 07.03.1968 über die Aufenthaltsberechtigung von Flüchtlingen im Sinne der Konvention über die Rechtsstellung der Flüchtlinge, government document BGBl. 1968/126 idF 1974/796; BG über die Einreise und den Aufenthalt von Fremden, government document BGBl. 1992/838 idF 1994/505; BG vom .. über die Ausübung der Fremdenpolizei, government document BGBl. 1954/74 idF 1991/406 cited in International Centre for Migration Policy Development (ICMPD), “EU/ICMPD Project Aiming at the Creation of an EU-Wide Registration System for Persons under Temporary Protection following Mass Influx” (unpublished document, Vienna, 1999), 21. 12. BG mit dem der Aufenthalt von Fremden in Österreich geregelt wird, government document BGBI. 1992/446 idF 1996/201, translated by the Danish Refugee Council, Legal and Social Conditions for Asylum Seekers and Refugees in Western European Countries (Copenhagen: Danish Refugee Council, 1997), 11. 13. van Selm-Thorburn, Refugee Protection in Europe: Lessons of the Yugoslav Crisis (The Hague: Martinus Nijhoff Publishers, 1998), 191. 14. BG vom .. über die Aufenthaltsberechtigung von Flüchtlingen in Sinne der Konvention über die Rechtsstellung der Flüchtlinge, government document BGBl. 1968/126 idF 1974/796. BG über die Gewährung von Asyl, government document BGBl. 1992/8. According to Section 1(1) 2 of the Austrian Law of Asylum, a “refugee” is a person who, “aus wohlbegründeter Furcht, aus Gründen der Rasse, Religion, Nationaltät, Zugehörigkeit zu einer bestimmten Gruppe oder der politischen Gesinning verfolgt zu werden, sich außerhalb seines Heimatlandes befindet und nicht in der Lage oder im Hinblick auf diese Furcht nicht

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Notes to Pages 35–37 gewillt ist, sich des Schutzes dieses Landes zu bedienen; oder wer staatenlos ist, sich infolge obiger Umstände außerhalb des Landes seines gewöhnichen Aufenthaltes befindet und nicht in der Lage oder im Hinblick auf diese Furcht nicht gewillt ist, in dieses Land zurückzukehren.” 15. BG mit dem der Aufenthalt von Fremden in Österreich geregelt wird, government document BGBl. 1992/446 idF 1996/201; BG über die Gewährung von Asyl, government document BGBl. 1992/8, of January 7, 1992, cited in Danish Refugee Council, Legal and Social Conditions, 11; asylum statistics cited in International Centre for Migration Policy Development, “EU/ICMPD Project,” 23n23. 16. Decision of July 2, 1993, Asylum Office, Branch Office Graz (No. 93.02.560), cited in Ulrike Davy, “Refugees from Bosnia and Herzegovina: Are They Genuine?” Suffolk Transnational Law Review 18 (1995): 66–67. 17. Decision of March 16, 1993, Asylum Office, Branch Office Traiskirchen (No. 93.01.001), Decision of July 2, 1993, Asylum Office, Branch Office Graz (No. 93.02.560), cited in Davy, “Refugees from Bosnia,” 67 (n.53). 18. Decision of March 22, 1993, Asylum Office, Branch Office Traiskirchen (No. 93.01.122), cited in cited in Davy, “Refugees from Bosnia,” 67n53. 19. The conflict in Bosnia has generally been labeled “civil war.” According to a widely accepted definition, however, this is only accurate if Bosnia qualifies as an independent state and if there are no international ramifications, such as the active participation of adjacent states. Davy, “Refugees from Bosnia,” 54n3. 20. Many of the Bosnian War expellees arriving in Austria did not want to apply for political asylum but rather hoped that they could return home in the near future. Samir, Milena, Rabija, and Hajra, however, were keen on remaining in Austria. Samir and Milena altered their own and their families’ status successfully from de facto refugee to permanent resident status. Both hoped to receive Austrian citizenship as soon as possible. Hajra and Rabija, however, had returned to Bosnia at the time of this writing. According to Ernst Kirchner, head of the Caritas refugee camp that hosted them in 1999, both women were too old to be successfully integrated into the Austrian labor market and both were severely traumatized, taking medication, and under medical supervision. The two women belonged to the group of fifty-seven hundred Bosnians in need of durable solutions in 1998. This group was diminished to 482 in 1999. Kirchner explained that both women would be sent to a retirement home in the central Bosnian town Travnic. He emphasized that the entire group of Bosnians in the camp (thirty-three at the time of the interview) would eventually be repatriated through one of the repatriation schemes co-financed by the Austrian government and the EU. During the interview both Hajra and Rabija expressed their wishes for nothing more than to remain in Austria for the rest of their lives. Ernst Kirchner (head officer of Caritas refugee camp St. Gabriel), interview with author, February 23, 1999, Mödling, Austria; Dorothy Thomas and Regan Ralph, “Rape in War: The Case of Bosnia,” in Gender Politics in the Western Balkans: Women and Society in Yugoslavia and the Yugoslav Successor States, ed. Sabrina Ramet (University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 1999), 204; ICMPD, “EU/ICMPD Project,” 23n23. 21. In contrast to the Bosnian case, Austria did not grant temporary protection to Kosovar Albanians in 1998. It furthermore deported them to Hungary on safe-third-country grounds. The Austrian authorities justified denying protection to them by arguing that the conflict in Kosovo did not threaten all Kosovars and that the probability of being individually targeted was relatively slim. For those with protection concerns, the authorities reportedly invoked the concept of internal-flight alternatives, submitting that the individuals concerned could, and thus should, have sought protection elsewhere in Kosovo. Austrian authorities, however, reversed this policy in the following year, not the least because of international

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Notes to Pages 37–39 protest. USCR, “Country Report: Austria,” http//:www.refugees.org/world/coutnryrpt /europe/austria.htm; ICMPD, “EU/ICMPD Project,” 22–23. 22. With the 1998 Asylum Law, the Federal Asylum Board was introduced as the authority superior to the Federal Asylum Office. The Federal Asylum Board is composed of a chairperson, deputy chairperson, and members. In contrast to the United States and other European countries, where appeals of denied asylum decisions are not possible, the new Austrian law provides for an independent appeals authority for denied asylum claims. Members, appointed by the federal president for an indefinite term, deal with appeals individually unless it seems that their decision might represent a departure from previous rulings or if there are no consistent precedents. In these cases, a review panel may be assembled with the agreement of the chairperson. An appeal of decisions by the Federal Asylum Board may be made to the administrative court. It is too early to evaluate this newly introduced and, for individual refugees, potentially valuable institution. To a large extent, the Federal Asylum Board’s decisions will, however, depend upon the individual members of the board. USCR, “Country Report: Austria,” 1999 and 2001. 23. USCR, “Country Report: Austria,” 1999 and 2001. 24. Austria’s pretense of responding to international criticism of its treatment of asylum seekers frequently resulted in obscure procedures that in the end hurt the asylum seeker. For example, the UNHCR reported that a new airport procedure that was intended to give the UNHCR the power to refer negative decisions in airports to the normal procedure was not functioning properly. The UNHCR said that Austrian authorities circumvented the UNHCR review by admitting most asylum seekers arriving by air into Austria, but then rejecting their cases once they were in the country. In other cases in which the UNHCR did refer asylum applicants to the normal asylum procedure over the objection of the airport authorities, the Federal Asylum Office frequently disregarded the organizations’ opinions on cases and rejected the asylum applications. USCR, “Country Report: Austria,” 1999. 25. The United States stopped its refugee-resettlement program immediately following the September 11, 2001, attacks on New York and Washington, D.C. President George W. Bush authorized the resumption of the program in November, but the United States did not admit any refugees until the government concluded a security review of the resettlement program and implemented new security-related procedures in December. In December the INS was conducting refugee interviews in four of sixteen overseas refugee-processing facilities: Bangkok, Havana, Vienna, and Ho Chi Minh City. Subsequently, in the last three months of 2001, the United States admitted fewer than eight hundred refugees. During the same period in 2000, it resettled more than fourteen thousand. In fiscal year 2002, the United States resettled 27,100, despite authorized admissions of 70,000. This was the lowest number since the program began in 1980. USCR, World Refugee Surveys  and , http://www.refugees.org/world /articles/wrs02_americas2.cfm#unitedstates; and USCR, World Refugee Survey , http://www.refugees.org/world/countryrpt/amer_carib/2003/united_states.cfm. 26. Especially because of its resettlement program, the United States perceives itself as the humanitarian leader of the international community. 27. From 1989 to 2000 the United States filed 964,530 new asylum-application cases, which amounts to 1,398,568 persons applying for asylum status, according to the UNHCR’s conversion method, of which 104,298 people were granted asylum. UNHCR, Statistics— 1998 Statistical Overview—Table V.1, “Asylum Applications Submitted in Selected Countries,” http://www.unhcr.ch/statist/98oview/tab5_2.htm; UNHCR, Refugees and Others of Concern for UNHCR—1999 Statistical Overview—Table IV.1, “Asylum Applications and Refugee Status Determination by Country/Territory of Asylum, 1999,” http://www.unhcr.ch/statist/99oview/tab401.pdf; Kathleen Newland, U.S. Refugee Policy: Dilemmas and Directions (New York: International Migration Policy Program, 1995), 17–18.

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Notes to Pages 39–44 28. USCR, “Refugees Admitted to the United States, by Nationality, 1986–99,” http://www.refugees.org/world/statistics/wrs00_table7.htm; and USCR, “United States,” in World Refugee Survey , http://www.refugees.org/world/articles/wrs02_americas2 .cfm#unitedstates. 29. The ten principal resettlement countries with annual refugee-resettlement programs or quotas are Australia, Canada, Denmark, Finland, the Netherlands, New Zealand, Norway, Sweden, Switzerland, and the United States. USCR, World Refugee Survey  (Washington, D.C.: Immigration and Refugee Services of America, 1995). 30. The American Committee on Migration and Refugee Affairs (CMRA), however, emphasizes that U.S. embassy referrals are nonexistent because either the embassies do not wish to become magnets for refugees seeking to come to the United States, or because U.S. ambassadors, deputy chiefs of mission, and other consular officials are entirely unaware of their ability to refer refugees. Furthermore, UNHCR referrals have been denied refugee status by the INS in the past, according to CMRA. Committee on Migration and Refugee Affairs (CMRA), U.S. Refugee Admissions Program for Fiscal Year : Recommendations of the Committee on Migration and Refugee Affairs (New York: CMRA, 1999), 7–8. 31. While the CMRA insists that P-2 remained a very efficient means of referring caseloads of Bosnians in need of resettlement to the U.S. program, no Bosnian refugee in my sample was referred as a P-2 case. This classification has also been underutilized elsewhere, particularly in Africa. USCR, “Description of U.S. Refugee Processing Priorities—FY 2000,” http//www.refugees.org/world/articles/usrpp_rr99_12.htm. 32. For a description of the U.S. processing priorities see CMRA, U.S. Refugee Admissions Program, A–1. 33. Juan Osuna and Christine Hanson, “U.S. Refugee Policy: Where We Have Been, Where We Are Going,” http://www.refugees.org/world/articles/usrefpolicy_wrs93.htm. 34. USCR, “Country Report: United States 1999,” http://www.refugees.org/world /countryrpt/amer_carib/1999/us.htm. 35. U.S. immigration inspectors referred less than 5 percent of the persons identified for expedited removal (1,396 referred asylum seekers out of a total of 29,170) to asylum officers in 1997, believing that they had expressed some fear of return. Asylum officers then recognized a credible fear in about 80 percent of the referred cases, moving them along to immigration judges for asylum hearings in the course of the removal proceedings, according to U.S. General Accounting Office report findings. The other 27,774 aliens either returned voluntarily or were deported. Osuna and Hanson, “U.S. Refugee Policy.” USCR, “Expedited Removal: One Year Later,” http://www.refugees.org/world/articles/asylum_rr98_3.htm. 36. USCR, World Refugee Survey 2002 and 2003. 37. Osuna and Hanson, “U.S. Refugee Policy.” Under the previous asylum procedure, INS asylum officers either granted asylum based on a first-time interview, or referred deportable aliens (whose asylum cases were not granted by the asylum officers) to immigration judges for consideration of asylum in the context of removal proceedings. The procedure was designed to be completed within 180 days of filing the asylum application. The INS barred work authorization for the first 180 days after a claim was filed or until asylum was granted. Work authorization was automatic for cases on the docket longer than 180 days if the applicant did not cause the delay. USCR, “Country Report: United States,” http://www.refugees .org/world/countryrpt/amer_carib/us.htm. 38. For example, on Austria’s implementation of Schengen and Dublin, see USCR, “Country Report: Austria,” 1999. 39. There was also a substantial backlog of pending claims. (According to USCR estimates, approximately 465,200 people were waiting to be processed either in third countries, like Bosnian refugees in Croatia, or in camps in the United States in 1995.) Roughly 80 percent of all

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Notes to Pages 44–48 refugees come to the United States through “direct-departure programs.” The backlog causes a tremendous dilemma for those who face active and imminent threats to their safety or freedom: It is unlikely that they could afford to sign up for resettlement and then wait for months or years while in the presence of their persecutors. The most compelling refugee cases, therefore, are the least likely to be able to use the U.S. program. USCR, “Country Report: United States,” http://www.refugees.org/world/countryrpt/amer_carib/2003/united_states.cfm. 40. Puntervold Bo, “‘Triple Role’ of Government”; Jens Vedsted-Hansen, “Legal or Political Constraints over the Inclusion of Refugees,” in Exclusion and Inclusion of Refugees in Contemporary Europe, ed. Philip Muus (Utrecht: European Research Centre on Migration and Ethnic Relations, 1997), 30–39; USCR, “Country Report: United States,” 1999. 41. USCR, “Country Report: United States,” 1999. 42. Asylum seekers are entitled to representation by counsel, but not at the government’s expense. In reality, because of the high cost of legal assistance and the scarcity of pro bono legal services, approximately 90 percent of detained asylum seekers are not represented by counsel during their proceedings. One may assume that special training and skills would be important for the asylum officers to do their work sensitively. One of my contacts at a refugeeresettlement agency explained that the volunteer agencies have a name for those INS asylum and immigration officers who are promoted directly from their border patrols to asylum officer positions—specifically “dirt kickers”—and my contact implied that those officers’ sensitivity toward potential refugees is very limited. The comparative value of this anecdotal evidence might be limited, especially in the light of INS efforts in more recent years (late 1990s) to train its asylum and immigration officers more thoroughly. USCR, “Country Report: United States,” 1999. 43. USCR, “Country Report: United States,” 1999. 44. USCR, “Country Report: Austria,” 2000. 45. Germany, France, and Switzerland likewise continue to exclude from consideration for Convention refugee status those persecuted by opposition groups in civil wars, because the agents of persecution are not considered governments. This interpretation of the 1951 Convention also allows for the exclusion of refugees from Algeria and Somalia, where civil war has eroded governmental authority, and from countries like Afghanistan, until 2001, where much of the international community did not recognize de facto governmental authorities. 46. The exceptions were increased to 76,550 in 1998 and to 85,010 in 1999. 47. USCR, “Country Report: United States,” 2003, http://www.refugees.org/world /countryrpt/amer_carib/2003/united_states.cfm. 48. Data on Sweden cited in Newland, U.S. Refugee Policy, 12;USCR, “Ratio of Refugees to Host Country Population in Selected Countries, Listed by Host Country, as of December 31, 1999,” http://www.refugees.org/world/statistics/wrs00_table_host.htm.

Chapter 3 1. An earlier version of this text was published under the title “Bosnian Refugees and Socioeconomic Realities: Changes in Refugee and Settlement Policies in Austria and the United States,” Journal of Ethnic and Migration Studies 29, no. 1 ( January, 2003): 5–25. 2. William Roger Brubaker, Immigration and the Politics of Citizenship in Europe and North America (Lanham: University Press of America, 1989); Yasemin Soysal, Limits of Citizenship: Migrants and Postnational Membership in Europe (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1994); Gary Freeman, “Migration and the Political Economy of the Welfare State,” Annals of the American Academy of Political Sciences 486 (1986): 62. 3. Refugees and asylees are eligible for cash and medical assistance for eight months from

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Notes to Pages 49–55 the date they are admitted to the United States (in the case of refugees) or granted asylum (in the case of asylees). Refugees and asylees are also eligible for certain social services for five years. 4. Bundesministerium für Innere Angelegenheiten, “Unterbringung der ‘De-facto’ Flüchtlinge aus Bosien-Herzegowina in Groß- und Privatquartieren in Österreich, Juli 1992– Dezember 1997,” governmental document, BMI III/15 KOD/PIC 1998. 5. Refugees’ basic social allowance is governed by the regional Laws on Social Aid and differs from one province to another. For example, a single refugee in Salzburg got a monthly allowance of ATS 4,785 (US$380); the first family member received ATS 3,910 (US$300); the next additional person (without child benefits) got ATS 2,580 (US$200); and the next person (without child benefits) got ATS 1,145 (US$900) in 1996. Danish Refugee Council, Legal and Social Conditions for Asylum Seekers and Refugees in Western European Countries (Copenhagen: Danish Refugee Council, 1997), 21. 6. The Bund-Länder Aktion calculated the distribution of refugees throughout Austrian provinces according to a ratio negotiated between the Länder and the federal government, with each financing the program in nearly equal amounts. The highest number of displaced persons in the Aktion (47,746) was at the end of June, 1993. This number, provided by BMI, however, appears too high, because of multiple registrations in select cases. ICMPD, “EU/ICMPD Project,” 25; Statistics of the Bundesministerium für Innere Angelegenheiten (BMI), “Unterbringung der ‘De-facto’ Flüchtlinge aus Bosien-Herzegowina in Groß- und Privatquartieren in Österreich, Juli 1992–Dezember 1997,” unpublished document, BMI III/15 KOD/PIC 1998. 7. BG mit dem der Aufenthalt von Fremden in Österreich geregelt wird, government document BGBl. 1992/466 idF 1996/201. 8. The decree concerning the Bosnians’ TPS was enacted on June 25, 1993, although its legal basis, Paragraph 12 of the 1992 Aliens Law did not enter into force until July 1, 1993. ICMPD, “EU/ICMPD Project,” 22n18; BG mit dem integrierten Vertriebenen aus Bosnien und Herzegovina das weitere Aufenthaltsrecht gesichert wird, governmental document, BGBl. I 1998/85. The Bosnians Law was enacted on August 1, 1998. 9. ICMPD, “EU/ICMPD Project.” 10. The office of the Bosnier Aktion, headed by Heide-Marie Fenzl, was the coordination center between the Ministry for the Interior and the provinces. It ensured that the various offices in the provinces knew and fulfilled their responsibilities toward the refugees. Fréchet, “The Situation of Refugees,” 31–32. 11. ICMPD, “EU/ICMPD Project,” 25–26. 12. August Gächter, “Forced Complementarity: The Attempt to Protect Native Austrian Workers from Immigrants,” New Community 21, no. 3 ( July, 1995): 383. 13. Ibid. 14. Bundesministerium für Arbeit und Soziales, “Ausländerbeschäftigung, Richtlinien für die Vergabe von Überziehungsreserven,” unpublished document Zl.35.402/22–2/93; ICMPD, “EU/ICMPD Project,” 20–24. 15. Family benefits included a monthly sum of ATS 1,300 (about US $110 or EUR 94) for every child up to 10 years of age residing in Austria, ATS 1,550 for each child between the ages of 10 and 19, and ATS 1,850 for each child between the ages of 19 and 27 who was not legally employed. After July 1, 1997, under the BGBl. 1996/201, the right to obtain family benefits only applied to children under the age of 26. BG über den Mutterschutz, government ducument, BGBl. 1979/211 idF 1995/454; Eltern-Karenzurlaubsgesetz, government document, BGBl. 1989/651 idF 1995/434; cited in ICMPD, “EU/ICMPD Project,” 27–29. 16. Bundesministerium für Innere Angelegenheiten, “Unterbringung der ‘De-facto’ Flüchtlinge.”

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Notes to Pages 55–60 17. Angela Ivezi´c (social worker with the Beratungszentrum für Migranten und Migrantinnen), interview with author, January 12, 1999, Vienna. 18. Fréchet, “Situation of Refugees,” 32. 19. During my interviews with the women who still lived in the camp, I noticed that they seemed to knit or crochet all day long. They continued with their needlework while talking to each other. They liked to do it, and it seemed to have a distracting and calming effect on them. However, during the off-season the men in the camp only watched television, broadcast in German, as an escape. 20. Vienna is the only large city that drew Bosnian refugees, but the motivation to move there was primarily economic. For Bosnians facing very restricted access to the legal job market, Vienna provided both legal employment for those lucky enough to hold work permits and plenty of illegal jobs on the black market. 21. UNHCR, “Country Reports: Temporary Protection USA,” Country Reports: Part III (Geneva: UNHCR, 1995), 3; Danish Refugee Council, Legal and Social Conditions, 18–21; ICMPD, “EU/ICMPD Project,” 22–31. 22. Committee on Migration and Refugee Affairs (CMRA), U.S. Refugee Admissions Program, 5. 23. One additional far-reaching consequence of this particular structure of public-private partnership is that NGOs concerned with refugee resettlement concentrate on improving refugee-determination procedures rather than on being alert to and developing resources and capabilities to mobilize against political strategies of the U.S. government. The limitations of NGOs’ focus became evident once the federal government started taking measures to prevent access to asylum and refugee statuses. U.S. resettlement agencies had to stand by when the Clinton administration decreased refugee admission ceilings by more than 40 percent— from 132,000 in FY 1993 to 78,000 in FY 1999. B. S. Chimni, “The Geopolitics of Refugee Studies: A View from the South,” Journal of Refugee Studies 11, no. 1 (December, 1998): 354; Norman Zucker and Naomi Zucker, The Guarded Gate: The Reality of American Refugee Policy (New York: Harcourt, Brace, Jovanovich, 1987), 2. 24. Kathleen Newland, U.S. Refugee Policy: Dilemmas and Directions (New York: International Migration Policy Program, 1995); Lorraine Majka, “Assessing Assistance Organizations in the United States and the United Kingdom,” Journal of Refugee Studies 4, no. 3 (December, 1991): 296; Uwe Wenzel and Mathias Bös, “Immigration and the Modern Welfare State: The Case of USA and Germany,” New Community 23, no. 4 (October, 1997): 537. 25. Majka, “Assessing Assistance Organizations,” 267–72; Jeremy Hein, States and International Migrants: The Incorporation of Indochinese Refugees in the United States and France (Boulder, Colo.: Westview, 1993). 26. Majka, “Assessing Assistance Organizations,” 267–72. For a detailed history of the U.S. refugee resettlement program, see Steven Gold, Refugee Communities: A Comparative Field Study (Newbury Park: Sage Publications, 1992). 27. At the same time, Europe turned its back on Bosnian exilees. Hosting 320,000 Bosnian nationals—the largest group of Bosnian refugees outside the former Yugoslavia area— Germany, according to the USCR, had forcefully repatriated about a thousand Bosnian refugees and then started its large-scale repatriation efforts in 1996. Between 1996 and 1998 Germany increased both expulsion and so-called voluntary repatriation efforts. The remaining and “endured” (geduldete) Bosnian refugee population without a durable solution still numbered about 120,000 in Germany alone by the end of 1998. Amy Slauter and Erol Kikisc (program officers with Lutheran Immigration and Refugee Services headquarters), interview with author, May 20, 1999, New York City; USCR, “Country Report: Germany,” http://www.refugees.org/world/countryrpt/europe/germany.htm; 28. The vast majority of Bosnians who resettled in the United States experienced the re-

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Notes to Pages 60–62 ality of its capitalist system even before they set foot in the “land of the free.” The International Organization for Migration (IOM) arranges transport for admitted refugees, including Bosnians, to their host locations after they have been granted refugee status by INS officers at the overseas-processing branch offices. IOM collects the plane fare (interest-free) from the resettled persons as soon as possible after their arrival. The passage to the United States thus entailed their first experience of a free-market economy for many Bosnian refugees. The head of the resettlement agency Interfaith Community Services (the local affiliation of the Lutheran Refugee and Immigration Services and Church World Service), Kathy Hawl, stated that “when they [the refugees] arrive here they are already in debt.” Thus, some Bosnian refugees referred to the IOM abbreviation as “I owe money.” Kathy Hawl (Interfaith Community Services), interview with author, May 27, 1999, New York City; Andrew Bruce (IOM), interview with author, July 15, 1999, New York City; Ms. Moser (Caritas Wien), interview with author, March 10, 1999, Vienna. 29. Family members who filed the AORs and thus acted as sponsors welcomed them at the airport. Slauter, interview. Younger Bosnians especially seemed to migrate to New York City after initial resettlement elsewhere. For many of them (who did not yet have educational credentials because the war had interrupted their academic careers in Yugoslavia), the city provided relatively affordable community colleges, jobs, and accommodations in Astoria, Queens, or Brooklyn. Thus, the thriving U.S. economy, combined with educational opportunities, caused a number of Bosnian refugees with a certain adventurous spirit to relocate to New York City. 30. The resettlement agencies themselves made the decision not to resettle free cases in the New York City area. Some agencies, most importantly the Hebrew Immigrant Aid Society (HIAS) and the International Rescue Committee (IRC), resettled free cases in New York City and Long Island throughout the 1990s. Socioeconomic and other variables, such as time of arrival and labor demand in particular sectors, were crucial factors influencing Bosnian free cases’ resettlement in New York City. Colleen Ryan (program officer for resettlement, International Rescue Committee), interview with author, June 18, 1999, New York City; Norman Levine (director of field services with the Hebrew Immigrant Aid Society), interview with author, June 3, 1999, New York City. As far as I know, there are no official numbers of Bosnians living in New York City. Ertana Kolenovi´c, the marketing manager of the Bosnian weekly SabaH, estimates that her newspaper has about ten thousand Bosnian readers in the New York City area, while the producer of the new BosnianAmerican Television Network BATV, Adnan Rudanovi´c, estimates that more than fifty thousand Bosnians reside in the five boroughs. Ertana Kolenovi´c (marketing manager of the Bosnian-American Independent Newspaper SabaH ), interview with author, August 16, 1999, Astoria, Queens; “Letter from Producer of BATV-New York, Adnan Zaim,” http: //www.batv.tv/index.php?Action=english. 31. These variations in handling federal support money sometimes confused refugees substantially. While I was conducting the interview with Kathy Hawl at Interfaith Community Services, for example, one of the caseworkers announced that one of her clients had threatened to sue the agency because it did not hand the PRM money to him. The refugee was convinced that the money belonged to him. He had allegedly heard that other resettlement agencies did provide refugees with the initial PRM payment but had been warned that some agencies withheld the money that legally belonged to the refugee. Thus, this refugee demanded that Interfaith Community Services pay him his share, not realizing that the amount allocated to him had already been spent for his lodging and food. 32. Amelia Mufarevi´c (caseworker for Interfaith Community Services), interview with author, May 27, 1999, New York. 33. Mufarevi´c, interview.

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Notes to Pages 62–69 34. As with the refugee-processing operations of the INS, one case does not necessarily mean one person but frequently refers to a family. Interview with Mufarevi´c. 35. Ryan, interview. 36. For further details of the ORR’s Marching Grant Program, see http://www.acf .dhhs.gov/programs/orr/mgguid00.htm; Majka, “Assessing Assistance Organizations,” 278. 37. Institute for Social and Economic Development, “Refugee Welfare and Immigration Reform Project,” http://www.ised.org/rwirp/rwirp.html. The PRWOR legislation makes public assistance temporary for most recipients—regardless of their income level or residence status—and requires most of them, including parents of small children, to do some form of work while receiving TANF and food-stamp assistance. Generally, adults can receive TANF for a total of sixty months in their lifetimes. With the “hardship exceptions,” however, states have the option of extending this eligibility period and may exempt up to 20 percent of their caseloads from the time limit. The sixty-month time limit began in January, 1997. The Welfare Reform Act limits food stamps for most jobless adults between the ages of eighteen and fifty, who are not disabled or raising minor children, to three months out of a thirty-sixmonth period. Only those who are (1) working or participating in a work or training program at least half-time or (2) participating in a food-stamp workfare program can continue to receive benefits after the three-month period. Ellyn Reilly (head of CAMBA), interview with author, July 28, 1999, New York. 38. Reilly, interview. 39. Hawl, interview. 40. To register for SSI refugees must have either an I–94 card stamped with a message stating that they entered the United States as a refugee admitted under Section 207 of the Immigration and Nationality Act, or a green card (I–551) with the code RE–6, RE–7, RE–8, or RE–9. If a refugee does not have his or her I–94 or I–551, Social Security staff can verify the person’s entry as a refugee with the INS. In many cases, however, refugees have simply been denied SSI with the explanation that they need to provide additional documentation. Hawl, interview; Reilly, interview. 41. Reilly, interview. 42. A state-government pamphlet used by resettlement agencies and their caseworkers to determine the standard public-assistance allowance in New York State sets the allocation of financial support according to the number of household members. A one-member household is entitled to $137.10 per month; two-member, $218.50; three-member, $291; fourmember, $375.70; five-member, $463.70; six-member, $535.20; seven-member, $607.70; and eight-member, $680.20. According to Mufarevi´c, refugees are eligible to receive about $140 per month in food stamps, up to a monthly maximum of $270 per family. The City of New York’s Department of Health started a campaign to ensure the health coverage of every child up to age nineteen and offers free or minimum-fee health coverage for all New York State resident children. Mufarevi´c, interview. 43. There were, however, exceptions in my sample. For example, Tarik, a Bosnian Muslim in his late fifties, who arrived with his wife and two daughters in San Jose, California, in May, 1995, was supported by the state with $670 a month in general aid and $300 a month in food stamps for three years. During the three years he helped organize the Bosnian Association in San Jose. Tarik later moved his family from San Jose to Astoria, Queens. 44. ICMPD, “EU/ICMPD Project,” 27–29. 45. Östen Wahlbeck, Kurdish Diasporas: A Comparative Study of Kurdish Refugee Communities (New York: St. Martin’s, 1999), 81–82. 46. Majka, “Assessing Assistance Organizations,” 270.

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Notes to Pages 71–82

Chapter 4 1. Earlier versions of some of the ideas in this chapter have been published as “Transplanted or Uprooted? Integration Efforts of Bosnian Refugees Based upon Gender, Class, and Ethnic Differences in New York City and Vienna,” European Journal of Women’s Studies 10, no. 2 (May, 2003): 135–57, and “Bosnian Refugee Women in (Re)settlement: Gender Relations and Social Mobility,” Feminist Review 73 (2003): 86–103. 2. Patricia Pessar, “Role of Gender, Households, and Social Networks in the Migration Process,” in The Handbook of International Migration: An American Experience, ed. Charles Hirschman et al. (New York: Russell Sage Foundation, 1999), 63. 3. For examples of the emancipatory perspective of women in the diaspora, see Rita Simon and Caroline Brettell, eds., International Migration: The Female Experience (Totowa, N.J.: Rowman and Allenheld Publishers, 1986); Sherri Grasmuck and Patricia Pessar, Between Two Islands: Dominican International Migration (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1991). For a more theoretical analysis of women in migration, see Pessar, “Role of Gender, Households, and Social Networks,” 53–70, and Dima Abulrahim, “Defining Gender in a Second Exile: Palestinian Women in West Berlin,” in Migrant Women: Crossing Boundaries and Changing Identities, ed. Gina Buijs, 55–81 (Oxford, U.K.: Berg, 1993). 4. Alejandro Portes and Leif Jensen, “What’s an Ethnic Enclave? The Case of Conceptual Clarity—Comment on Sanders and Nee,” American Sociology Review 52, no. 6 (1987):768–71; Min Zhou, Chinatown: The Socioeconomic Potential of an Urban Enclave (Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1992). 5. I applied the definition of ethnicity developed by Franke Wilmer here. For the political scientist, ethnicity is a social organizing principle based upon a common language and a shared worldview. It functions as a boundary marker, a way of designating who is “we” and who is “them.” While Wilmer emphasizes that ethnicity is constructed, this chapter demonstrates that ethnic identity is just one category of fluid identity and self-perception among numerous others, such as class and gender. It appears that for Bosnian refugees the emphasis upon ethnicity, class, and gender is constantly changing. Franke Wilmer, “Ethnicity, Nationalism, and Conflict: Withering States?” Current World Leaders 40, no. 4 (August, 1997): 22–43. 6. In part, refugees’ economic difficulties demonstrated that the host societies lacked the mechanisms to use the human capital that refugees represented. This was particularly the case for highly skilled refugees (e.g., medical doctors or lawyers), who found that their aptitude and experience were not directly transferable to the host society. Additionally, language barriers and, especially in the Austrian experience, xenophobia and antipathy to foreigners (Ausländerfeindlichkeit) were other barriers to easy adaptation to and acceptance within the host society. 7. Kathleen Valtonen, “Resettlement of Middle Eastern Refugees in Finland: The Elusiveness of Integration,” Journal of Refugee Studies 11, no. 1 (March, 1998): 38–60. 8. All these classifications, including networks and first-asylum contacts, impose differentiations on a group of individuals who are extremely diverse; any categorization can provide only limited explanations of the structures and processes that individuals experienced in settlement. 9. Valtonen, “Resettlement of Middle Eastern Refugees.” For a comparison to the British refugee-support system, see Robert Page, Altruism and the British Welfare State (Aldershot, England: Avebury, 1996). 10. Valtonen, “Resettlement of Middle Eastern Refugees”; Egon Kunz, “Exile and Resettlement: Refugee Theory,” International Migration Review 15, no. 1 (1981): 42–51. 11. E. T. Hall, “How Cultures Collide,” Psychology Today ( July, 1976): 67–74; D. C. Herberg, Frameworks of Racial and Cultural Diversity (Toronto: Canadian Scholars’ Press, 1993), cited in Valtonen, “Resettlement of Middle Eastern Refugees,” 48.

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Notes to Pages 83–99 12. Valtonen, “Resettlement of Middle Eastern Refugees,” 48. 13. Östen Wahlbeck, Kurdish Diasporas: A Comparative Study of Kurdish Refugee Communities (New York: St. Martin’s, 1999), 33; William Safran, “Diasporas in Modern Societies: Myths of Homeland and Return,” Diaspora 1, no. 1 (Spring, 1991): 83–84. 14. For a detailed descripton of syncretic web structures, see Valtonen, “Resettlement of Middle Eastern Refugees,” 50. 15. Valtonen, “Resettlement of Middle Eastern Refugees,” 48. 16. Ibid. 17. Mr. Pfann (MA 12), telephone interview with author, December 28, 1997, Vienna. 18. As explained in chapter 3, Austrian labor legislation seeks to ensure that unemployed Austrian citizens are employed first. 19. In 1878 Bosnia became an Austrian Crown Land but not without resistance. The Austro-Hungarian monarchy prevailed and occupied the country after employing 268,000 troops in four months of military operations. Between 1878 and 1918 Bosnia remained a province under Austro-Hungarian imperial rule. 20. Valtonen, “Resettlement of Middle Eastern,” 49. 21. Lord Acton, Essays in the Liberal Interpretation of History (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1967), 134, cited in Benedict Anderson, Long-Distance Nationalism: World Capitalism and the Rise of Identity Politics (Amsterdam: CASA, 1992), 2–3. 22. Ibid. 23. Safran, “Diasporas in Modern Societies,” 84.

Chapter 5 1. Sabrina Ramet, “In Tito’s Time,” in Gender Politics in the Western Balkans, ed. Sabrina Ramet (University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 1999), 89–105. 2. Ramet, “In Tito’s Time,” 89–105; Geoffrey Swain and Nigel Swain, Eastern Europe since  (New York: St. Martin’s, 1994), 72–75. 3. Barbara Jancar-Webster estimates that about two million women actively participated in the National Liberation Movement (Narodno-Oslobodika´cki Pokret, or NOP), including a hundred thousand who fought as soldiers in the partisan forces, of whom twenty-five thousand died in battle and forty thousand were wounded. Jancar-Webster estimates that two thousand achieved officer ranks. See Julie Mertus, “Women in Kosovo: Contested Terrains, the Role of National Identity in Shaping and Challenging Gender Identity,” in Gender Politics, 171–86; Barbara Jancar-Webster, “Women in the Yugoslav National Liberation Movement,” in Gender Politics, 67–87; Vida Tomsˇicˇ, Women in the Development of Socialist SelfManaging Yugoslavia (Belgrade: Jugoslovenska stvarnost, 1980), 51. 4. Ramet, “In Tito’s Time,” 97–102. 5. Ramet, “In Tito’s Time,” 98–101. 6. In 1951 Yugoslavia prohibited abortions and legislated for the prosecution of people performing abortions but not of the women undergoing the procedure. One year later, federal authorities reversed the law, legalizing abortion for medical, legal, social, and related reasons. Ramet, “In Tito’s Time,” 96. Yugoslavia’s fourth constitutional provision for abortion is cited in Tomsˇicˇ, Women, 144. 7. Mirjana Morokvasic, “Being a Woman in Yugoslavia:Past, Present and Institutional Equality,” in Women of the Mediterranean, ed. Monique Gadant, 120–38 (Atlantic Highlands, N.J.: Zed Books, 1986); Vera Erlich, Family in Transition (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1976). 8.Andrei Simi´c, “Machismo and Cryptomatriarchy: Power, Affect, and Authority in the Traditional Yugoslav Family,” in Gender Politics in the Western Balkans, ed. Sabrina Ramet, 11–30 (University Park: Pennsylvania State University, 1999).

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Notes to Pages 99–103 9. Morokvasic, “Being a Woman,” 121. 10. Biance Petkova and Chris Griffin, “Bulgarian Women and Discourse about Work,” European Journal of Women’s Studies (London) 5 (1998): 437. 11. Indijana Hidovic Harper, “Personal Reactions of a Bosnian Woman to the War in Bosnia,” Feminist Review 45 (Autumn, 1993): 102. 12. Harper, “Personal Reactions,” 102. 13. Petkova and Griffin, “Bulgarian Women,” 438. 14. Simi´c, “Machismo,” 16. 15. Staza Zajovic, “Being a Woman,” in Ana’s Land: Sisterhood in Eastern Europe, ed. Tanya Renne (Boulder, Colo.: Westview, 1997), 174. 16. Ibid. 17. Morokvasic, “Being a Woman in Yugoslavia,” 130. 18. It appears that Simi´c seeks to point out differences between Western “modern” societies and Balkan societies. At times, his arguments are artificial and overstate the differences between the two areas. In many other farming societies in Central and Southern European areas, marriage has also traditionally been perceived as a family decision. Although Simi´c overstates the uniqueness of the particularities of Southern Slav society, his account is nonetheless of value because it describes two social concepts that influence Bosnians selfunderstanding today. Simi´c, “Machismo,” 18. 19. Simi´c, “Machismo,” 16–17. 20. Morokvasic, “Being a Woman,” 123. 21. Tone Bringa, Being Muslim the Bosnian Way: Identity and Community in a Central Bosnian Village (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1995), 50–51. For a similar development of the feminization of agriculture in Romania, see Gail Klingman, The Wedding of the Dead: Ritual, Poetics, and Popular Culture in Transylvania (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1988), 53–54. For a comprehensive discussion and critique of the concept, see Henrietta Moore, Feminism and Anthropology (Cambridge: Polity, 1988), 75–80. 22. Morokvasic, “Being a Woman in Yugoslavia,” 120–38. 23. These data, as any statistics derived from official sources, are most likely not very accurate. Estimations made mainly in the host countries immediately before the 1981 census gave a total number of Yugoslav migrants abroad exceeding the figures given here by 22 to 25 percent. If nothing else, the data, however, show the increased tendency of Yugoslav people to migrate. Molnar attributes the significant increase in the number of migrants from 1971 to 1981 to the demand for both professional and seasonal workers in Switzerland and Austria. According to the 1991 census, Austria received 58,626 Yugoslav migrants. Thus, every third Yugoslav emigrant went to Austria. Irene Gabrity Molnar, “Research Notes: The Sociology of Migration from the Former Yugoslavia,” New Community 23, no. 1 ( January, 1997):109–22. 24. In the 1970s and 1980s Western European tourists vacationing on the Dalmatian Coast provided an additional substantial source of much-desired foreign currency. 25. Simi´c, “Machismo,” 20. 26. The social position of women in rural areas is arguably similar in most of Eastern and South-Central Europe as well as North America. (One extraordinary illustration of the lot of farmers’ daughters in the American West is the movie A Thousand Acres.) Simi´c, “Machismo,” 22; Morokvasic, “Being a Woman in Yugoslavia,” 22; Vera Erlich, Jugoslavenska prodica u transformaciji: Studija u tri stotine (Zagreb: Insistut za znanost i knjievnosti, 1971), cited in Simi´c, “Machismo,” 18–19; Erlich, Family in Transition. 27. Bringa, Being Muslim, 49. 28. Simi´c, “Machismo,” 21–22. 29. Erlich, cited in Simi´c, “Machismo,” 18–19.

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Notes to Pages 103–11 30. Ann Cornelisen, Women of the Shadows: A Study of the Wives and Mothers of Southern Italy (New York: Vintage Books, 1977), 219, cited in Simi´c, “Machismo,” 22. 31. Zajovic, “Being a Woman,” 173. 32. Simi´c, “Machismo,” 22. 33. Simi´c, “Machismo,” 23–28; Morokvasic, “Being a Woman in Yugoslavia,” 120–21. 34. Simi´c, “Machismo,” 25. 35. Melitta Sunijc (press secretary for the UNHCR in Vienna), interview with author, January 7, 1999, Vienna. 36. Simi´c, “Machismo,” 25. 37. Lorelei Halley, “Old Country Survivals in the New: An Essay on Some Aspects of Yugoslav-American Family Structure and Dynamics,” Journal of Psychological Anthropology 3, no. 2 (Spring, 1980): 133. 38. Simi´c, “Machismo,” 24–29. 39. Zidanje Skadra, cited in Simi´c, “Machismo,” 25. 40. Reinhard Bendix, Max Weber: An Intellectual Portrait (Garden City, N.Y..: Doubleday, 1962), 260–67, cited in Simi´c, “Machismo,” 25. 41. Morokvasic, “Being a Woman in Yugoslavia,” 121–22. 42. Branka Magasˇ, “Afterword,” 275–90. 43. Beverly Allen, Rape Warfare: The Hidden Genocide in Bosnia-Herzegovina and Croatia (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1996), 26. 44. Žarana Papi´c, “Women in Serbia:Post-communism, War, and Nationalist Movement,” in Gender Politics, 160. 45. Magasˇ, “Afterword,” 286; Papi´c, “Women in Serbia,” 160. The arrest of Slobodan Milosˇevi´c on April 1, 2001, is another sign that a positive change in the public consciousness and political arena of the Balkan states is occurring. 46. Papi´c, “Women in Serbia,” 164–165. 47. Obrad Kesi´c, “Women and Gender Imagery in Bosnia: Amazons, Sluts, Victims, Witches, and Wombs,” in Gender Politics, 187–202. 48. Lepra Mladjenovi´c, “Off Our Backs,” (March, 1993), cited in Kesic, “Women and Gender Imagery,” 187. 49. Dorothy Thomas and Regan Ralph, “Rape in War: The Case of Bosnia,” in Gender Politics, 210–12. 50. Susan Brownmiller, “Making Female Bodies the Battlefield,” Newsweek, January 4, 1993, 37. In the Newsweek story, Brownmiller argues that the rapes were a crime of violence based on the gender relations that originate in patriarchy: “Women are raped in war by ordinary youths as casually, or as frenetically, as a village is looted or gratuitously destroyed. Sexual trespass on the enemy’s women is one of the satisfactions of conquest, like a boot in the face, for once he is handed a rifle and told to kill, the soldier becomes an adrenaline-rushed young man with permission to kick in the door, to grab, to steal, to give vent to his submerged rage against all women who belong to the other men.” (emphasis in original). 51. Papi´c, “Women in Serbia,” 167 (emphasis in original). 52. A Bosnian mother of two, whose younger daughter spends the summer vacation with her uncle in Florida, confirms this. She pointed out that her brother-in-law, who had moved to the United States in the 1980s, called and complained about her daughter’s fastidious eating behavior. The surprised mother asked what the brother-in-law had served her daughter. When he replied that they had had ground beef and rice for lunch, the mother told her naive relative that he should give her daughter vegetables instead of rice. Making a dismissive gesture with her hand, she explains that “nobody from Bosnia eats rice” these days. 53. Josip Bros Tito, cited in Morokvasic, “Being a Woman in Yugoslavia,” 126.

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Notes to Pages 113–18

Chapter 6 1. An earlier version of this text was published by the Association for the Study of the World Refugee Problem as “American Patriotism and Nativist Fears after September 11: A Historical Perspective,” AWR (Association for the Study of the World Refugee Problem) Bulletin: Quarterly on Refugee Problems 41, nos. 1–2 (2003). 2. David Reimers, Still the Golden Door: The Third World Comes to America (New York: Columbia University Press, 1992), 1–3. 3. Benjamin Franklin to Peter Collinson, May 9, 1753, quoted by Richard Hofstadter, America at  (New York: Vintage Books, 1973), 23. 4. Adams and Hamilton, cited in Ali Behdad, “Nationalism and Immigration to the United States,” Diaspora 6, no. 2, (Fall 1997): 157. 5. Behdad, “Nationalism.” 6. David Bennett, The Party of Fear: From Nativist Movements to the New Right in American History (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1988), 3–12. 7. Behdad, “Nationalism,” 161. 8. John Higham, Strangers in the Land: Pattern of American Nativism, – (New Brunswick, N.J.: Rutgers University Press, 1955), cited in Behdad, “Nationalism,” 162. 9. Higham, Strangers in the Land, cited in Behdad, “Nationalism,” 161. 10. Behdad, “Nationalism,” 161–62; Arthur Mann, The One and the Many: Reflections on the American Identity (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1979), 47. America’s war against Iraq can be seen within the framework of the same moral infallibility. For Americans, U.S. foreign policy is based on a similar moral superiority. All the country’s wars have been righteous wars. During the Reagan presidency, the United States battled the evil empire of the Soviet Union. During the presidency of the first president Bush, the United States proclaimed a new world order based on American primacy. During his tenure, George W. Bush proclaimed the United States is battling three nations that form an “axis of evil,” in addition to battling other nations suspected of harboring terrorists as well as all terrorists with a global reach. Ahmad Faruqui, “A Game of Capture the Flag: Whither American Nationalism?” May 20, 2003, http://www.counterpunch.org/faruqui05202003.html. 11. Behdad, “Nationalism,” 156. 12. Reimers, Still the Golden Door, 4; Behdad, “Nationalism,” 170; Diane Mei Lin Mark and Ginger Chih, A Place Called Chinese America (San Francisco: Organization of Chinese Americans, 1982), 29–36. 13. Behdad, “Nationalism,” 170. For an overview of historiographical debates in the field of U.S. immigration history, see Ewa Morawska, “The Sociology and Historiography of Immigration,” in Immigration Reconsidered: History, Sociology and Politics, ed. Virginia YansMcLaughlin (New York: Oxford University Press, 1990), 187–238. 14. Behdad, “Nationalism,” 162. 15. Peter Wigginton, America for Americans: Declaration of Principles of the American Party (Fresno: Daily Evening Expositor Steam Print, 1886), cited in Higham, Strangers in the Land, 56. 16. 1844 citation of American Brotherhood declaration, cited in Bennett, Party of Fear, 105. The Know-Nothings would soon call themselves the American Party. 17. The Know-Nothings’ Manifesto is cited in Behdad, “Nationalism,” 163. 18. Freeman et. al, Who Built America?, 264–65; New York Times editorials cited in Rita Simon, Public Opinion and the Immigrant: Print Media Coverage, – (Lexington, Mass.: Lexington Books, 1985), 197. 19. In contrast, the nativist movement of the Know-Nothings emerged in the mid- and late nineteenth century. Post–Civil War social and economic upheaval temporarily raised fears that the population’s mobility would be hindered and that personal gains from the wartime

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Notes to Pages 119–24 economy would be lost. According to Bennett, “relative deprivation” threatened those whose prospects now suddenly seemed dimmer than before. As in earlier decades, nativism projected these anxieties onto the alien. Bennett, Party of Fear, 197. 20. George Brown Tindall and David Emroy Shi, America: A Narrative History, vol. 2 (New York: W. W. Norton, 1988), 791–92. 21. Congressman cited in Martin Miller, “Proposition 187: Fund-Raiser by Supporters Draws 100 in Orange County,” Los Angeles Times, October 29, 1994, A24. Patrick McDonnell summarized the claims of Proposition 187 for the Los Angeles Times. The proposition called for the following changes regarding illegal immigrants: prohibiting enrollment in all public schools; requiring that parents or guardians of all school children show legal residence; obliging school administrators to report suspected illegal immigrants;denying nonemergency public health care, including pre- and postnatal services, to those who could not prove legal status; cutting off many state programs for troubled youth, the elderly, the blind, and others with special needs; requiring law-enforcement agencies to cooperate fully with INS officials; and increasing penalties for the sale and use of fraudulent documents. Patrick McDonnell, “Proposition 187 Turns Up Heat in US Immigration Debate,” Los Angeles Times, August 10, 1994. 22. Behdad, “Nationalism,” 174. 23. George W. Bush, “Address to a Joint Session of Congress and the American People,” Washington, D.C., September 20, 2001, http://www.whitehouse.gov/news/releases/ 2001/09/20010920–8.html. 24. Thomas Doherty, Professor of Film Studies, Brandeis University, speaking on Four Corners, BBC Radio 4, November 5, 2001, cited in Cynthia Weber, “Flying Planes Can Be Dangerous” (unpublished paper presented at the ISA Meeting in New Orleans, March 27, 2002). 25. Ibid. 26. Susan Douglas, “The Media Fall in Line,” Progressive (November, 2001): 24. 27. Lawrence Eagleburger, cited in Douglas, “The Media,” 24. 28. Bill O’Reilly, cited in Douglas, “The Media,” 24. 29. Liza Featherstone, “Fighting the War at Home,” Nation, April 1, 2002, 27–30. 30. Zogby poll cited by Shibley Telhami, “Arab and Muslim America: A Snapshot,” in Perspectives on Terrorism: How / Changed U.S. Politics, ed. Allan Cigler (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 2002), 15. 31. George W. Bush, “Address to a Joint Session of Congress and the American People,” Washington, D.C., September 20, 2001, http://www.whitehouse.gov/news/releases/2001 /09/20010920–8.html. 32. Nicholas Kristof, “Bigotry in Islam—And Here,” New York Times, July 9, 2002, http://www.nytimes.com/2002/07/09/opinion/09KRIS.html. 33. John Nichols, “The Lone Dissenter,” Progressive (November, 2001): 28–29. 34. David Cole, “Operation Enduring Liberty,” Nation ( June 3, 2002): 12. 35. Anne-Marie Cusac, “Ill-Treatment on Our Shores,” Progressive (March, 2002): 24–28. 36. David B. Caruso, “FBI Agents Raid Immigrants’ Stores,” Washington Post, July 9, 2002, http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/articles/A42205–2002Jul9.html. 37. The current focus on Muslim or Arab people in the United States, however, does not mean that other people do not experience similar intolerance. The Progressive’s Web page, for example, includes a watch list focused on the country’s New McCarthyism. The involvement of the general public in the investigations resulted, for example, in the arrest of an eighteenyear-old Moroccan boy, who was turned in by his high school guidance counselor. The boy, who was never suspected of any terrorist activity, according to the police, had a pending application to extend his visa and by the time his visa had actually expired he had already been

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Notes to Pages 125–32 imprisoned in an INS detention center in Arlington, Virginia. Amy Bach, “Vigilante Justice,” Nation, June 3, 2002, 18. 38. Walter Benjamin, Illuminations (New York: Schocken, 1969), 257. 39. Behdad, “Nationalism,” 165–66. 40. Elizabeth Hull, Without Justice for All: The Constitutional Rights of Aliens (Westport, Conn.: Greenwood, 1985), 9. 41. Homi Bhabha, “The Other Question,” in Literature, Politics and Theory: Papers from the Essex Conference, –, ed. Francis Barker et al., 149 (London: Methuen, 1986). 42. Rahm Emanuel, cited in Marc Lacey, “Toned Down Bill on Immigration Passes House,” Los Angeles Times, September 29, 1996, 1; Behdad, “Nationalism.”

Chapter 7 1. Friedrich Heer, Der Kampf um die österreichische Identität (Vienna: Böhlau Verlag, 1981), 9. 2. The term “Island of the Blessed” was coined by Pope Paul VI during a 1972 Vatican audience with an Austrian delegation. Manfred Steger, “The ‘New Austria,’ the ‘New Europe,’ and the ‘New Nationalism’” (unpublished paper presented at the 1993 Annual Meeting of the American Political Science Association, Washington Hilton, September 2–5, 1993), 3; Helmut Konrad, “Austria on the Path to Western Europe: The Political Culture of the Second Republic,” Austrian History Yearbook 26 (1995):1–15. 3. Dieter Binder argues convincingly for a continuum in the political and ideological spheres of Austria throughout the First Republic, the Anschluß period, and the Second Republic. Dieter Binder, “The Second Republic: Austria Seen as a Continuum,” Austrian History Yearbook 26 (1995):17–43. I want to emphasize, however, that the Austrian political culture has traditionally accepted and never questioned the underlying and popular Fascist ideology that has its origins in the First Republic and the Nazi period. The lack of awareness of Austria’s active participation in Nazi crimes stands in rigid contrast to Germany's efforts to come to terms with its past. Moreover, while Germany successfully deNazified its government and other institutions, similar endeavors in Austria were halfhearted at best. 4. For the development of the “political culture of unease,” see Dokumentationsarchiv des österreichischen Widerstands, ed., Rechtsextremismus in Österreich nach  (Vienna: Österreichischer Bundesverlag, 1980). 5. Konrad, “Austria on the Path,” 10. 6. Peter Ulram and Manfred Steger have identified the sociopolitical and socioeconomic changes that have taken place in the country. Peter Ulram, Hegemony and Erosion: Politische Kultur und Politischer Wandel in Öserreich (Vienna: Böhlau Verlag, 1990), 71–215. Steger, “‘New Austria.’” 7. The Green Alternative List (GAL) and the United Greens of Austria (VGÖ). 8. Heinz Dopsch, “1000 Jahre Österreich?: Seine Tradition als Asyl im Herzen Europas,” AWR Bulletin: Quarterly on Refugee Problems 35, nos. 1–2 (1997): 38–39, 40. In his historical account of Austrian humanitarianism, Dopsch sees Austria as a traditional asylum country in the heart of Europe. 9. Dopsch, “1000 Jahre Österreich?” 39; Binder, “Second Republic,” 32. 10. Moreover, even as an EU member state, Austria still takes its neutrality very seriously. In 1999 Austria refused to let NATO planes fly over its territory to bomb nearby Yugoslavia. 11. Dopsch, “1000 Jahre Österreich?” 40. 12. Steger, “‘New Austria,’” 3–4. 13. In 1986 the “Waldheim Affair” unraveled, and the electoral success of Haider’s nationalist populism, which, combined with the Green Alternative List’s entrance into Parlia-

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Notes to Pages 132–36 ment, managed to de-align petrified party structures. Haider almost doubled the FPÖ’s share of votes in the 1986 Nationalratswahlen (parliamentary elections), drawing 9.7 percent of the national vote. For a thorough treatment of the period from Kurt Waldheim’s 1986 election to his Austrian presidency to his announcement not to seek a second term in 1992, see Richard Mitten, The Politics of Antisemitic Prejudice: The Waldheim Phenomenon in Austria (Boulder, Colo.: Westview, 1992). 14. For a quantitative analysis of this “swing to the right,” see David Campbell, “Dynamik der politischen Links-rechts-Schwingungen in Österreich,” Österreichische Zeitschrift für Politikwissenschaft 92, no. 2 (1992): 165–79. For a summary of Austrian identity issues, see Melanie Sully, A Contemporary History of Austria (New York: Routledge, 1990), 2–3. 15. Steger, “‘New Austria,’” 20. 16. Steger, “‘New Austria,’” 5, 8. Fritz Plasser and Peter Ulram, “Überdrehung, Erosion und rechtspopulistische Reaktion,” Österreichische Zeitschrift für Politikwissenschaft 92, no. 2 (1992): 159. Like all successful populists, Haider possesses the ability to read the resentments and prejudices of the masses, anticipate likely developments in the political climate, and effectively exploit controversial issues that reflect popular prejudice but are frequently considered by established political parties “too hot” to handle. Advertising himself as the “voice of the people,” Haider draws both protest voters, who simply “want to register their resentment,” with old-style politics, and the World War II-generation voters who feel themselves redeemed by an ideal son who publicly asserts that “our fathers and grandfathers have only done their duty . . . and don’t deserve to be dragged through the mud.” Haider quoted in HansHenning Scharsach, Haider’s Kampf (Vienna: Orac, 1992), 97–98. 17. August Wächter, “Illusion einer Einwanderungspolitik,” Österreichische Zeitschrift für Politikwissenschaft 91 (1991): 351–66; Fritz Plasser and Peter Ulram, “‘Die Ausländer kommen!’ Empirische Notizen zur Karriere eines Themas und der Bewußtseinslage ‘im Herzen Europas,’” Österreichisches Jahrbuch für Politik  (1991): 313. 18. FPÖ functionary Helmut Peter quoted in Steger, “‘New Austria’.” 19. Ibid.; Plasser and Ulram, “‘Die Ausländer kommen!’” 315–19. 20. Plasser and Ulraum, “‘Die Ausländer kommen!’” 315; Alexander Melamid, “An Austrian Study of International Migration,” Geographical Review 82 ( January, 1992): 74–76; Jay Yang, “Austria’s Window on Eastern Europe,” Austrian Information 44 (1991): 2. 21. Anton Pelinka, cited in Seger, “‘New Austria’,” 20. 22. Lying just to the north of the former Yugoslavia, Carinthia marked the border between the German-speaking and Slavic worlds and was heavily steeped in Germanic national sentiment. Haider and Mölzer quoted in Scharsach, Haider’s Kampf, 62, 76. For Mölzer’s Germannationalist position, see Österreich und die Deutsche Nation, ed. Andreas Mölzer (Graz, Austria: Aula Verlag, 1985), and Andreas Mölzer, Und wo bleibt Österreich? (Berg/See, Austria: Berg, 1991); Steger, “‘New Austria.’” 23. Rainer Nick and Sighard Viertler, “Survey of Austrian Politics 1990/91” Contemporary Austrian Studies 1 (1993): 207. Fritz Plasser and Peter Ulram, cited in Steger, “‘New Austria’.” 24. Freiheitliche Partei Österreichs (FPÖ), Österreich Zuerst: Volksbegehren  gute Gründe Punkt für Punkt. (Vienna: FPÖ, 1993). 25. The Helden Platz is where Hitler announced, on March 13, 1938, the “admission” of his “homeland into the German Reich.” 26. “Sieger Haider,” profil 40 (October 4, 1999): 37. 27. Roger Cohen, “A Theory on Haider’s Allure:No Ideology, More Marketing,” Foreign Desk, New York Times, March 3, 2000. 28. Cohen, “Theory on Haider’s Allure.” Prinzhorn has become infamous for his antiforeigner remarks. During the national election campaign in 1999 he stated that foreigners in

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Notes to Pages 137–46 Austria were getting free hormone treatments from the country’s health services “in order to increase their fertility.” However, he had to apologize for this outrageous falsehood. 29. Brigitte Bailer-Galanda and Wolfgang Neugebauer, Haider und die Freiheitlichen in Österreich (Berlin: Elefanten, 1998), 180–83; Cohen, “Haider in Their Future.” 30. Ibid.; “Sieger Haider,” profil 40 (October 4, 1999): 37. 31. To do this, the EU–14 foreign ministers met in secret, and, according to New York Times writer Donald McNeil Jr., “exactly how many is not clear, since at least one, from Denmark, told a newspaper that he was informed so late that there was not even time to disagree.” Donald McNeil, “Why Austria Faces Anger,” Foreign Desk, New York Times, February 5, 2000. 32. Part of the reason for the negative response by the EU–14 group in 2000 lay in those countries’ being governed by Social Democrats, who moreover feared the ever-rising tide of right-wing parties elsewhere in Europe, especially in France, Switzerland, Belgium, and Italy. In Germany, France, and Italy the issue of immigration had moved to the center of political debates. Thus the Social Democrats and Christian Conservatives of Europe feared that “Haiderism,” or another kind of right-wing movement, grassroots or elitist, could seize the day in their individual countries, too. Jean-Marie Le Pen’s openly racist National Front won 15 percent of the vote in France in 1995. Christoph Blocher’s Swiss People’s Party became the country’s largest political force in 1999, taking 23 percent of the vote with a campaign equating immigration with criminality. Also in 1999, in Belgium, the slogan “Our People First” propelled the Vlaams Blok to 29.6 percent of the vote in the country’s second-largest city, Antwerp. In Denmark, the Danish People’s Party of Pia Kjaresgaard gained new prominence with a welfare-mocking poster saying, “When I become a Muslim, I’ll have a home.” Cohen, “Haider in Their Future.” 33. The three wise men were Martti Ahisaari, former president of Finland; Jochen Frowein, director of the Max Planck Institute for Comparative Public Law and International Law at Heidelberg and former vice president of the European Commission of Human Rights; and Marcelino Oreja, president of the Institute of European Studies of the San Pablo CEU University and former Spanish minister of foreign affairs. The three wise men spent three days in Vienna, where they allegedly stayed in the famous Hotel Sacher and met with government officials and then concluded in their report that the EU–14 sanctions should be lifted. The EU–14 took their advice. For a complete version of their report (“Report by the Wise Men”), see the Republic of Austria page, http://www.austria.gv.at/e/; McNeil, “Why Austria Faces Anger.” 34. Miroslav Hroch, “From National Movement to the Fully-Formed Nation: The Nation-Building Process in Europe,” New Left Review 198 (March–April, 1993): 18.

Conclusion 1. Alexander Aleinikoff, “State-Centered Refugee Law: From Resettlement to Containment,” in Mistrusting Refugees, ed. E. Valentine Daniel and John Knudsen (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1995), 263. 2. B. S. Chimni, “The Geopolitics of Refugee Studies: A View from the South,” Journal of Refugee Studies 11, no. 1 (December, 1998): 350–51. 3. Östen Wahlbeck, Kurdish Diasporas: A Comparative Study of Kurdish Refugee Communities (New York: St. Martin’s, 1999). 4. Egon Kunz, “Exile and Resettlement: Refugee Theory,” International Migration Review 15, no. 1 (1981): 42–51.

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— 199 —

Index

abandoned claims, Austria, 37 abortion policies, 97, 107, 164n6 acculturation process: overview, 72–73, 146–47; and Austrian exclusivism, 85–88, 163n6; gender comparisons, 74–78, 94; and social networks, 78–85; traditional research assumptions, 5–6, 71–72 Acton, Lord, 90 Adams, John, 114 adaptation. See acculturation process Adem (Bosnian refugee), 40–41 Ad Hoc Group on Immigration and Asylum, 29 Admira (Bosnian refugee), 24, 62 affidavits of relationship (AORs), 40–42 Afghanistan, 158n45 agriculture industry, Yugoslavia, 17 Ahisaari, Martti, 171n33 airport approach, Austria, 156n24 Alan (Bosnian refugee), 63 Aleinikoff, Alexander, 7, 141 Algeria, 158n45 Alien Act, Denmark, 32 Alien and Sedition Acts, United States, 115–16 Aliens Act, Austria, 51 Aljia (Bosnian refugee), 74, 75, 87, 91 Allen, Beverly, 107 Amnesty International, 123 Ana (Bosnian refugee), 74 Anderson, Benedict, 28, 90

Anderson, Kathyrn, 12 AORs (affidavits of relationship), 40–42 Arkan’s Tigers, 36 Arma (Bosnian refugee), 81 arrest statistics, Austria, 38, 45 Article 33, Refugee Convention, 43 Asemina (Bosnian refugee), 80 asylum applications: Austria, 35, 36, 37, 131, 156n22, n24; European Union, 30, 31; United States, 156n27, 157n35 Asylum Laws, Austria, 34, 35, 37–38 asylum policies: Austria, 4, 33–38, 141–42, 150n13; EU harmonization, 29–30; restrictive trends, 30, 32–33, 140–42; United States approach, 35, 38–46, 157n30, n37, 158n42. See also immigration politics, Austria Australia, resettlement programs, 157n29 Austria: acculturation barriers, 85–88, 163n6; asylum policies, 4, 33–38, 141–42, 150n13; Balkan independence movements, 21; Kosovo conflict, 155–56n21; machismo expressions, 105–106; national identity influences, 127–32, 169n3; social networks, 9, 78–82, 89–90, 91–92; and U.S. resettlement programs, 60. See also specific topics, e.g. employment, Austria; immigration politics, Austria; refugee statistics, Austria “Austria First” petition, 134–35 Austrian Socialist Party (SPÖ), 131–32, 134, 137

Index Austrian-Yugoslav Agreement on Visa Policies, 34 Austro-Hungarian empire, 88, 164n18 Azemina (Bosnian refugee), 74 Azra (Bosnian refugee), 66 backlog statistics, United States, 157–58n39 Balanced Budget Act (BBA), 65 bar story, 104–105 Bavaria, 32 Behdad, Ali, 114, 115, 116, 119, 125 Belgium, 30, 171n32 Benjamin, Walter, 125 Bennett, David, 115, 167–68n19 Besim (Bosnian refugee), 50, 51, 53, 55, 56–57, 87–88 Bhabha, Homi, 125 Bhabha, Jacqueline, 6, 149n6 Bijeljina attack, 20–21 Binder, Dieter, 169n3 black labor market, 8, 9, 55–57, 81, 142–43 black-market activity, Yugoslavia, 17–18 Blocher, Christoph, 171n32 Blok, Vlaams, 171n32 Bo, Puntervold, 32 Bös, Mathias, 9 Bosnia: and Austro-Hungarian empire, 88, 164n18; elections, 153n28; ethnic diversity, 15, 19–20; independence movements, 22, 152n14. See also Bosnian War, overview; Yugoslavia Bosnians Law (Austria), 51 Bosnian War, overview: civil war label, 155n19; economic foundations, 14, 17–19, 27; ethnic cleansing operations, 23–25, 26; gender roles, 107–11; peace negotiations, 25–27; and pre-war expectations, 19–21; refugee statistics, 14, 16 Bosniergesetz (Austrian law), 51 Brcˇko, 23 bread-and-water method, Denmark, 32 Bringa, Tone, 101, 103 Britain, 21–22, 25, 26, 30, 49 Brown, Sarah, 149n3 Brownmiller, Susan, 166n50 Brubaker, William Rogers, 47 Bulgaria, 32 Bund-Länder Aktion: overview, 8, 50–51; and asylum applications, 36; social net-

works compared, 80, 81; statistics, 50, 52, 159n6; U.S. programs compared, 68, 69; work restrictions, 53, 55, 56 Bureau of Population, Refugees, and Migration (PRM), 60, 61, 62–64 Bush, George W. (and administration), 119, 120–21, 122–25, 156n25, 167n10 California, 119, 162n43, 168n21 Canada, 49, 157n29 Caritas refugee camp, 56, 155n20 Caruso, David, 124 cash assistance: Austria, 50; United States, 61, 158–59n3, 161n31 Catholics, United States, 115, 117 census statistics, 14, 15 Chimni, B. S., 6, 141 Chinese Exclusion Act, 116 Citizen Corps, 123 citizenship rules: Austria-U.S. compared, 49; and U.S. immigration history, 116 civil war interpretations, 158n45 class conflicts, 89–94 Clinton administration, 22, 26, 46, 160n23 CNN, 120 Cohen, Lenard, 152n13 Cold War refugees, 6, 130–31, 132–33 Coles, Gervase, 6 Collinson, Peter, 114 Communist Party of Yugoslavia (CPY), 19, 96–97, 102 “compatriots in fate” category, 88–89 concentration camps, 23–25 Congress, U.S., 122 Convention (1951). See Refugee Convention, U. N. (interpretations) Cornelisen, Ann, 103 corruption, Yugoslavia, 17–18 Coulter, Ann, 122 Croatia/Croats: bar story, 104–105; Bosnian refugee statistics, 14, 16; ethnic cleansing operations, 24–25; ethnicity bonds, 90; independence movement, 21–22, 152n13; INS offices, 60 Croatian Democratic Union, 153n28 Cyprus, 32 Czechoslovakia, 131, 134 Damir (Bosnian refugee), 41, 66 Danijela (Bosnian refugee), 81

— 202 —

Index Dayton Agreement, 27 debt crisis and Bosnian War, 14, 17–19 de facto status. See asylum entries; Refugee Convention, U. N. (interpretations); temporary protection status (TPS) defense spending, Yugoslavia, 17 defensive patriotism, defined, 119. See also September 11 attacks Delaney, Nicole Barbara, 14 Denmark, 30, 32, 37, 157n29, 171n32 deportations, United States, 42–43, 44–45, 157n35 detainees, United States, 123–24 direct-departure programs, United States, 157–58n39 dirt kickers, defined, 158n42 discrimination, Austria, 9, 85–88, 163n6. See also nativism, United States Djindjic, Zoran, 108 Doherty, Thomas, 120 Dolina, Yugoslavia, 101, 103 Dopsch, Heinz, 130 Douglas, Susan, 120 Dublin Convention, 29, 38 Dzemila (Bosnian refugee), 55 Eagleburger, Lawrence, 121 economics and Bosnian War, 14, 17–19, 27, 151n5 elections: Austria, 131, 132, 134, 135, 137, 169–70n13; Bosnia, 153n28; Europe, 170n32 Emanuel, Rahm, 126 embassy referrals, United States, 157n30 employment: former Yugoslavia, 96, 99–100, 101–102; traditional research assumptions, 72–73 employment, Austria: overview, 142–44; black market, 55–57; foreign worker rules, 52–53, 54; gender comparisons, 73–74, 77–78; and social networks, 79, 80–81, 92–93; and social services, 50–53, 55, 68–70; TSP refugee restrictions, 48–49, 50. See also guest workers, Austria employment, United States: overview, 142–44; gender comparisons, 74–75; and identity issues, 82–83; as resettlement goal, 9, 58, 61–64; and social services, 66–67 Enes (Bosnian refugee), 24, 61, 76–77 Enisa (Bosnian refugee), 74

Erlich, Vera, 98, 103 ethnic cleansing operations, 23–25, 26 ethnic identity: Austrian, 85–86; and class identity conflicts, 89–94; defined, 163n5; gender comparisons, 75, 76, 81–82; U.S. nativism compared, 115–17 European Union: asylum policy harmonization, 29–30; Austria’s application, 129, 132, 135; Balkan independence movements, 21–22; harmonization of refugee policies, 29–30, 32, 38; refugee totals, 30–32; sanctions against Austria, 137–38, 171nn31–33 expedited-removal process, United States, 42–43, 44–45, 157n35 expulsion policies: Denmark, 32; United States, 42–43, 44–45, 157n35 family benefits, Austria, 55, 159n15 family reunification policies: Denmark, 32; United States, 9, 39, 40–42, 59, 60 Federal Asylum Board, Austria, 37, 156n22 Federal Asylum Office, Austria, 33–38, 50 Finland, 30, 157n29 first-asylum links, 79–82, 90, 92–93. See also social networks Fischel de Andrade, José, 14 food stamps, United States, 9, 67, 162n37, nn42–43 foreign worker rules. See employment, Austria FPÖ (Freedom Party), 37, 129, 131–38, 169–70n13 France, 25, 26, 158n45, 171n32 Franklin, Benjamin, 114 free cases, United States, 60–61, 161nn29–30 Freedom Party (FPÖ), 37, 129, 131–38, 169–70n13 Freeman, Gary, 47 Freeman, Joshua, 118 Friedman, Thomas, 22 Frowein, Jochen, 171n33 Gächter, August, 51, 70 gender comparisons: acculturation process, 74–78, 94, 145–46; Austrian discrimination, 86; employment, 7–8, 9, 55–56, 73–75, 94, 142–44; ethnic conflict,

— 203 —

Index gender comparisons, (continued) 91–92; refugee camp activities, 160n19; social networks, 84–85, 91, 93–94, 144–45; social services, 53, 55, 69; traditional research assumptions, 71–72; war time adaptations, 107–10 gender roles, former Yugoslavia: overview, 95, 111–12; post-socialist changes, 107–10; pre-socialist traditions, 97–98, 100–101, 103–104, 106; resistance movement, 96, 164n3; socialist era, 96–99, 101–103, 106–107, 111 German immigrants, 114, 117 Germany: asylum policy changes, 30; and Austrian identity formation, 128–29, 132, 169n3; Balkan independence movements, 21–22; Balkan peace negotiations, 25, 26; Croatia independence movement, 152n13; Refugee Convention interpretations, 158n45; refugee statistics, 7, 46; repatriation policies, 160n27 Ghana, 32 Graham, Franklin, 122 “grammar of mortality,” 119–20 Gratz, Leopold, 132 Great Britain, 21–22, 25, 26, 30, 49 Green Party, Austria, 130, 135, 137 Griffin, Chris, 99 Guantánamo Bay detainees, 123 Guatemalan refugees, 43 guest workers, Austria: class conflicts, 89–90; former Yugoslavia, 101–103; myth of return, 89; social networks, 9, 78–79, 80–82, 91; social services, 69–70; statistics, 165n23; status displays, 105–106; stereotype of, 86; traditional research approach, 7. See also employment, Austria Haider, Jörg, 129, 132, 133, 134–37, 169–70n13, 170n16 Hainburg, Austria, 56 Haitian refugees, 42, 43 Hajra (Bosnian refugee), 36, 155n20 Halley, Lorelei, 106 Hamilton, Alexander, 114 Hanson, Christine, 43 Haris (Bosnian refugee), 69, 73 Hawl, Kathy, 65, 160–61n28 health care services, Austria, 51, 56

Hebrew Immigrant Aid, 161n30 Heer, Friedrich, 128 Heimat, 85–86 Heine, Heinrich, 28 Herberg, D. C., 82 Hidovic Harper, Indijana, 99 Higham, John, 115 Hill, Christopher, 12 housing services, Austria, 50, 51, 56 Hroch, Miroslav, 138 Hungary, 35, 130–31, 134, 155–56n21 identity issues: overview, 72–73, 111–12, 145–46; class vs. ethnicity, 89–94; compatriot category, 88–89; machismo expressions, 104–106; motherhood, 103–104, 106. See also gender entries; immigration politics, Austria; nativism, United States Illegal Immigration Reform and Immigration Responsibility Act (IIRIRA), 29, 39, 42–45, 142 Immigration Acts, United States, 57, 116 Immigration and Naturalization Service (INS): asylum hearings, 44–45, 157n37, 158n42; backlog statistics, 157–58n39; deportation statistics, 42–43; overseas operations, 39–40, 156n25, 157n30, 160–61n28; processing categories, 40; September 11 impact, 123–25 immigration history, United States: overview, 112–13, 113–14, 125–26; and nativism, 114–19; September 11 impact, 119–25, 168–69n37 immigration politics, Austria: overview, 138–39; Balkan war era, 134–39; preBalkan war, 128–34 income levels, Yugoslavia, 17–18 India, 32 inflation levels, Yugoslavia, 17, 18 INS. See Immigration and Naturalization Service (INS) Interfaith Community Services, 62, 161n31 International Monetary Fund (IMF), 14, 17–19 International Organization for Migration (IOM), 63, 160–61n28 International Refugee Committee (IRC), 62–63 international relations, study purposes, 149n3

— 204 —

Index International Rescue Committee, 161n30 interview methodology, 10–11, 150–51n15 Iosvi´c, Sanita, 13 Iranian refugees, 43 Iraq war, 167n10 Irene (Austrian host), 79 Irma (Bosnian refugee), 56, 74, 81 Islam, U.S. denunciations, 122 Island of the Blessed, 128–30, 131–32, 169n2 Italian immigrants, 102 Italy, 138, 152n13 Ivezi´c, Angela, 56 Jack, Dana, 12 Jancar-Webster, Barbara, 164n3 Jasmine (Bosnian refugee), 62 Jasna (Bosnian refugee), 66–67, 90 job-placement services, 9, 61–62. See also employment entries Jordan, refugee statistics, 46 Jovanka (Bosnian refugee), 81 Judah, Tim, 23 Kesi´c, Obrad, 109 Kirchner, Ernst, 155n20 Kjaresgaard, Pia, 171n32 Klestil, Thomas, 137 Know-Nothings, 117, 167–68n19 Kolenovi´c, Ertana, 161n30 Konrad, Helmut, 128 Kosovo conflict, 42, 155–56n21 Kozarac, 23 Krajina, 26 Kristof, Nicholas, 122 Kunz, Egon, 146 labor. See employment entries Lake, Anthony, 26 Latin American refugees, 43 Law of Alien’s Branch of Police, Austria, 34 Law on Parental Leave, Austria, 53, 55 Law on the Employment of Nonnationals, Austria, 53 Laws on Social Aid, Austria, 159n5 League of Communists (LCY), 19, 96–97, 102 Lebanon, refugee statistics, 46 Le Pen, Jean-Marie, 171n32 liberty passes, 54 Lind, William, 122

“long-distance nationalism,” 90 Luxembourg, asylum policy changes, 30 Macedonia, Republic of, 16, 17 macho culture, refugees, 104–106 Magasˇ, Branka, 107, 108 Majka, Lorraine, 58, 64, 69 Malcolm, Noel, 19, 152n14 Mann, Arthur, 115 Manoli´c, Josip, 152n13 maps, census/refugee, 15–16 Marija (Bosnian refugee), 81 marriage statistics, multiethnic, 19–20 Marrus, Michael, 7 Matching Grant Program, United States, 62, 64 Maternity Law, Austria, 53, 55 McDonnell, Patrick, 168n21 Mejra (Bosnian refugee), 55–56 Melamid, Alexander, 133 Merisha (Bosnian refugee), 66 methodology overview, 3–12, 150–51n15 Mexican immigrants, 114 migrant workers. See guest workers, Austria Milena (Bosnian refugee), 36, 49–50, 155n20 Milosˇevi´c, Slobodan, 17, 18, 19, 91, 108 Ministry of Labor and Social Affairs, Austria, 52, 68 Ministry of the Interior, Austria, 37, 38, 50, 68. See also Federal Asylum Office, Austria Mladi´c, Ratko, 26 Mladjenovi´c, Lepra, 109 Molnar, Iren Gabrity, 102, 165n23 Montenegro: Bosnian refugee statistics, 14, 16; ethnicity bonds, 90, 92; women’s roles, 100; worker migration, 102 Morokvasic, Mirjana, 7, 98–99, 101, 102, 103, 104, 107 Moser, Ms., 60 Mostar, 24 motherhood, 103–104, 106, 109–11 mourning, women’s roles, 100 Mufarevi´c, Amelia, 61–62 Najla (Bosnian refugee), 66 Natasa (Bosnian refugee), 82, 94 National Day of Action, 122

— 205 —

Index nationalism: Austrian, 129–30; exile-based, 90–91; United States, 167n10. See also nativism, United States National Liberation Movement, 164n3 nativism, United States: overview, 112–13, 125–26; history of, 113–19, 167–68n19, 168n21; September 11 impact, 119–25, 168–69n37 NATO, 22, 25–26, 130–31, 135 Nazi regime, 128–29, 132, 137–38, 169n3 Neighborhood Watch, 123 Neighbor in Despair, 134, 135 Nenad (Bosnian refugee), 85 Netherlands, 30, 153n24, 157n29 neutrality, Austria’s, 128–29, 130–31 New York City: acculturation comparisons, 75–77; employment stories, 74–75; ethnic vs. class identity, 90–91; interview methodology, 10–11, 150–51n15; machismo expressions, 104–105; as refugee destination, 60, 161n29; refugee statistics, 61, 161n30; social networks, 82–85, 144–45. See also specific topics, e.g. asylum policies; employment, United States; social services New Zealand, resettlement programs, 157n29 NGO partnership, United States, 57–59, 60–64, 66, 68–69, 92, 93, 160n23 Nizich, Ivana, 24 Norway, resettlement programs, 157n29 Nyers, Peter, 6 Office of Refugee Resettlement, United States, 58, 60 Omarska, 23 O’Reilly, Bill, 121 Oreja, Marcelino, 171n33 Osuna, Juan, 43 overseas processing facilities, United States, 39–40, 156n25, 157–58n39 ÖVP (People’s Party), 132, 133, 135–38 Owen, David, 22–23 Pakistan, 32 Palmer, Mitchell, 117–18 Papi´c, Zˇarana, 108–10 paramilitary troops, Austria’s argument, 36 Party of Democratic Action, 153n28 passport argument, 30

Passport Law, Austria, 34 Patriot Act, United States, 122–23 patriotism. See nativism, United States Paul VI, 169n2 P categories (processing priority), 40–42, 59 P-5 category, 41–42, 59 peacemaking efforts, 21–23, 25–27, 153n24 Pelinka, Anton, 134 People’s Party (ÖVP), 132, 133, 135–38 persecution claims. See asylum entries; Refugee Convention, U. N. (interpretations) Personal Responsibility and Work Opportunity Reconciliation Act (PRWOR), 65, 162n37 Petkova, Bianca, 99 Petras, James, 18–19, 24, 27 Pfann, Mr., 86–87 Plasser, Fritz, 134 population statistics, 14, 15. See also refugee statistics Prinzhorn, Thomas, 136, 170–71n28 processing priority system, 39–42, 59 Proposition 187, California, 119, 168n21 Rabija (Bosnian refugee), 36, 155n20 Ralph, Regan, 109 Ramet, Sabrina, 96–97, 151n5 rape crimes, 6, 36, 109, 149n6, 166n50 Red Scare, 117–19 Refugee Act, United States, 39, 58 refugee camps, 34, 41, 56, 155n20, 157–58n39 Refugee Convention, U. N. (interpretations): Austria, 35–36, 38, 45–46, 49, 156n24; international trends, 6–7, 28–29, 30, 32–33, 141, 158n45; traditional, 5–6; United States, 8, 39, 40, 43 Refugee Data Center, 60–61 refugee statistics: Bosnian totals, 14, 16, 30, 140; Cold War era, 130, 131; European Union, 30–31; Germany’s repatriation totals, 160n27; international comparisons, 46; Serbia, 30; worldwide totals, 4, 7 refugee statistics, Austria: arrests, 38; asylum applications, 35, 37; employment, 49, 55; relief program registration, 50, 51, 159n6; totals, 34, 134; Vienna housing assistance, 51

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Index refugee statistics, United States: admission limits, 160n23; countries of origin compared, 43; New York City, 61, 161n30; resettlement totals, 8, 39, 40, 46; September 11 impact, 156n25 Reilly, Ellyn, 65 Reimers, David, 114 relief programs. See social services repatriation programs: Austria, 130, 155n20; Germany, 160n27; as refugee policy goal, 6–7, 28, 140–41; United Nations, 14 reproductive rights, 97, 107, 164n6 research overview, 3–12, 149n3, 150–51n15 Resettlement Program, United States: overview, 9, 38–42, 48, 143; family reunification focus, 59; NGO partnership, 57–59, 60–64, 66, 68–69, 92, 93, 160n23; September 11 impact, 156n25; transportation fees, 160–61n28 resettlement programs, countries listed, 157n29 Residence Law, Austria, 34, 35, 50–51 residence permits and employment, 52–54 resistance movement, former Yugoslavia, 96, 164n3 rice, 110, 166n52 Rijalda (Montenegrin refugee), 74, 79–80 Romanian refugees, 43 Rove, Karl, 120 Rudanovi´c, Adnan, 161n30 Russia, Balkan peace negotiations, 25, 26 Ryan, Colleen, 62 SabaH, 161n30 Sabrija (Bosnian refugee), 74, 82–83 safe-third-country clause, 32–33, 34–35, 37, 44 Sager family (Austrian host), 79–80 Salvadoran refugees, 43 Samir (Bosnian refugee), 20–21, 33, 49–50, 87–88, 155n20 Sanella (Bosnian refugee), 61, 84 San Jose, California, 162n43 Sarajevo, 25, 26 Schengen Convention, 38 Schüssel, Wolfgang, 137 Sead (Bosnian refugee), 73 Selma (Bosnian refugee), 50, 51, 55, 57, 73 Semsa (Bosnian refugee), 73 September 11 attacks: and nativism, 119–25,

168–69n37; resettlement program, 156n25 Serb Democratic Party, 153n28 Serbia: Bosnian refugee statistics, 14, 16; Bosnian War, 22; ethnic cleansing operations, 23–25; gender role changes, 108– 109; passport deportations, 30; pre-war economic conditions, 17, 18–19; reproductive rights, 1107; Samir’s story, 20–21 Serbs in New York City, ethnicity bonds, 90 Simi´c, Andrei, 95, 98, 100–101, 102, 103, 104, 106, 165n18 Sinowatz, Fred, 132 Skadar poem, 106 Skan, Claudena, 6 Slovak Republic, 37 Slovenia, 21–22, 30, 107 smuggling, Yugoslavia, 18 Social Democratic Party, 153n28 Socialist Alliance of Working People of Yugoslavia (SAWPY), 96 socialist era, Yugoslavian gender roles, 96–99, 101–103, 106–107, 111 Socialist Party (SPÖ), 131–32, 134, 137 social networks: overview, 144–45; Austria, 9, 78–82, 89–90, 91–92; traditional research assumptions, 5–6, 71–72; United States, 82–85, 88–89, 90–91, 92 social services: Austria, 8–9, 48–55, 56, 159n5, n15; comparison overview, 47–48, 67–70, 143, 144; Denmark, 32; United States, 9, 58, 61–70, 162n37, n40, nn42–43 Somalia, 158n45 source control bias, 7 Soviet Union, 43, 130–31 Soysal, Yasemin, 47 SPÖ (Socialist Party), 131–32, 134, 137 Srebrenica, 26, 153n24 St. Gabriel Caritas camp, 56, 155n20 State Department, United States, 59, 60–61 Steger, Manfred, 128 Sunijc, Melitta, 105 Supplemental Security Income (SSI), United States, 65, 162n40 Sweden, 30, 46, 157n29 Switzerland, 30, 157n29, 158n45, 171n32 syncretic webs, 84

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Index Tamara (Bosnian refugee), 79 TANF (Temporary Assistance to Needy Families), 65–66 Tarik (Bosnian refugee), 41, 74, 162n43 Temporary Assistance to Needy Families (TANF), 65–66 temporary protection status (TPS): Austria, 4, 6–7, 8–9, 38, 48–56; United States policy, 39, 57. See also asylum applications “Ten-Day War,” 21–22 terrorism and U.S. nativism, 119–25, 168–69n37 Thomas, Dorothy, 109 Thompson, Mark, 19–20 TPS. See temporary protection status (TPS) transportation fees, 160–61n28 travel rights, Austria, 49 Tudjman, Franjo, 91, 152n13 Ulram, Peter, 134 unemployment levels, Yugoslavia, 17, 19 United Nations, 14, 21–22, 23, 25–26, 153n24. See also Refugee Convention, U. N. (interpretations) United States: Balkan independence movements, 21–23; Balkan peace negotiations, 25, 26–27; resettlement program priorities, 38–42; social networks, 82–85, 88–89, 90–91, 92; social services, 9, 58, 61–70, 162n37, n40, nn42–43. See also specific topics, e.g. employment, United States; nativism, United States; Resettlement Program, United States Valtonen, Katherine, 80, 82, 84, 88 Vance, Cyrus, 21 van Selm-Thorburn, Joanne, 35 Vienna: acculturation comparisons, 77–78; black market employment, 56; discrimination patterns, 86–87; employment stories, 73–74; ethnic conflict, 91–92; interview methodology, 10–11, 150–51n15; responsibility for refugee care,

51; social networks, 80–82, 92–93, 144–45. See also specific topics, e.g. employment, Austria; immigration politics, Austria; social services Vieux, Steve, 18–19, 24, 27 Vines, Jerry, 122 volunteer organizations/individuals: Austria, 51, 79–80, 134, 135; United States, 57–59, 60–64, 66, 68–69, 92, 93, 160n23 Vranitzky, Franz, 132 Wahlbeck, Östen, 5, 11, 69, 83, 146 Walker, R. B. J., 12 Weber, Cynthia, 119–20 web relationships, New York City, 82–85 welfare services. See social services Wenzel, Uwe, 9 Weyrich, Paul, 122 White List, 32 Why Islam Is a Threat to America and the West (Weyrich and Lind), 122 Wigginton, Peter, 117 Wilmer, Frank, 163n5 women. See gender comparisons Woodward, Susan, 14, 17 work permits/authorizations, 8, 51–54, 54, 157n37. See also employment entries work therapy, Caritas camp, 56 xenophobia. See immigration politics, Austria; nativism, United States Yugoslavia: economic conditions, 14, 17–19, 151n5; independence movements, 21–22, 151n13; maps, 15–16. See also gender roles, former Yugoslavia Zaim (Bosnian refugee), 66, 85, 92 Zajovic, Stasa, 100, 103 Zeljka (Bosnian refugee), 78, 79 Zˇena model, 95, 103 Zˇepa, 26 Zidanje Skadra, 106 Zlata (Bosnian refugee), 56

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