In/Visibility of Flight: Images and Narratives of Forced Migration (Forced Migration Studies) 3837669033, 9783837669039

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Monika Mokre, Maria Six-Hohenbalken (eds.) In/Visibility of Flight

Forced Migration Studies Series Volume 3

Editorial In times of increasingly impactful climate crises and ceaseless violent conflicts, new dynamics of forced migrations evolve every day. National policies are not the sole defining drivers of these dynamics, and scholars have to acknowledge international and transnational networks, relationships and sets of obligations that shape the realities independently of nation states’ responses. The complexity of the matter has spread academic and public debates far and wide, ranging across issues of identity, social belonging, law, rights and duties, ethics and morality, heritage, economic and development models, religion and culture, war and peace and a myriad of other imperative topics. Few other general contemporary social processes have prompted as much debate as forced migration has today. This series aims to transit between topics, disciplines, modes of engagement with reality, theoretical proclivities, and different social scenarios and case studies pertaining to the realm of forced migration. Transcript’s Forced Migration Studies Series publishes monographs and edited volumes on forced migration worldwide, engaging with theoretical-methodological developments whilst also examining concrete case studies. It is multidisciplinary and focuses primarily on the contemporary world. The series is edited by Leonardo Schiocchet and Maria Six-Hohenbalken.

Monika Mokre (PD Dr.), born in 1963, is a senior researcher at the Institute of Culture Studies and Theatre Studies of the Austrian Academy of Sciences (ÖAW). The political scientist did her doctorate at Universität Wien and her habilitation at Universität Innsbruck. She teaches at various universities. Her research focuses on asylum and migration, democracy and the political public sphere, cultural politics, and gender studies. Maria Six-Hohenbalken (Dr.), born in 1965, is a senior researcher at the Institute for Social Anthropology of the Austrian Academy of Sciences (ÖAW). She did her doctorate at Universität Wien. Her research fields are political and historical anthropology, diasporas and transnational communities, memory studies and art-based research. Her regional focus is on Kurdish communities in the Middle East and in Diaspora.

Monika Mokre, Maria Six-Hohenbalken (eds.)

In/Visibility of Flight Images and Narratives of Forced Migration

Funded by:

Bibliographic information published by the Deutsche Nationalbibliothek The Deutsche Nationalbibliothek lists this publication in the Deutsche Nationalbibliografie; detailed bibliographic data are available in the Internet at https://dnb.dn b.de/

© 2024 transcript Verlag, Bielefeld All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilized in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. Cover layout: Maria Arndt, Bielefeld Cover illustration: Judy Mardnli Copy-editing & Proofread: Daniel Stevens Printed by: Majuskel Medienproduktion GmbH, Wetzlar https://doi.org/10.14361/9783839469033 Print-ISBN: 978-3-8376-6903-9 PDF-ISBN: 978-3-8394-6903-3 ISSN of series: 2751-1545 eISSN of series: 2751-1553 Printed on permanent acid-free text paper.

Contents

Acknowledgements .................................................................7 Introduction: in/visibility, privilege, and discrimination Monika Mokre and Maria Six-Hohenbalken .............................................9 Involuntary journey—a picture theater in unjust scenes Judy Mardnli ........................................................................ 19 Visibility and interactions of immigrant Kurdish women in urban public spaces: a comparison of Vienna and Cologne Hooshmand Alizadeh and Josef Kohlbacher ......................................... 29 Ethical reflexivity in qualitative study and participatory research among Afghan refugee women in Munich, Germany Naseem S. Tayebi .................................................................. 69 Blurred vision: potential and challenges of co-creation approaches for migrants’ visibility Lydia Rössl, Federica Zardo, and Christina Khoury................................... 87 “Traces and masks of refugees”— artistic representations of the visible, the hidden and the ambiguous Georg Traska....................................................................... 115 Modernity’s sacrificial tradition: “The endless screams of my mother” Fazil Moradi ........................................................................ 141

Roma and the war against Ukraine Stephan Müller .....................................................................159 The many fears we live with Laila Hajulah ....................................................................... 191 Those in darkness drop from sight—the hypervisibility, invisibility, and voicelessness of refugees Monika Mokre ......................................................................199 Marginalized or essential (workers)? The pandemic effects on humanitarian migrants Judith Kohlenberger................................................................219 Below the radar—the invisibility of agency among diaspora and refugee networks during the COVID-19 pandemic Maria Six-Hohenbalken and Josef Kohlbacher ...................................... 237 Contributors ..................................................................... 263

Acknowledgements

The editors would like to thank the Institute for Social Anthropology and the Institute of Culture Studies and Theatre Studies of the Austrian Academy of Sciences for the institutional support of this publication. Furthermore, we are grateful for the fruitful discussions with our colleagues in the Refugee Outreach and Research Network (ROR-n) as well as with the participants in the conference on which this volume is based. Their valuable comments shaped this book to a considerable degree.

Introduction: in/visibility, privilege, and discrimination Monika Mokre and Maria Six-Hohenbalken

In/visibility is unequally distributed in society and closely related to the distribution of power and privilege, on the one hand, and social exclusion and lack of agency, on the other hand. In/visibility not only reinforces existing forms of distribution along these lines but also contests them. Clearly, in/visibility is neither necessary nor naturally given but contingent and created by political modes and aims. The relationship between in/visibility and politics on the macro and micro level forms the guiding question for this book1 . The summer of migration and welcome culture of 2015 constituted a short period of a very specific form of visibility of forced migration in Central Europe. For about six weeks, the suffering of refugees and their claims for a better life were the main subject of image politics, enshrined in the emblematic photo of the dead body of two-years-old Alan Kurdi, washed ashore at the Turkish coast. Especially in Austria, the image of a truck on a highway in eastern Austria, containing 71 suffocated refugees, went viral about the same time. These images triggered a wave of compassion and help, accompanied by a willingness to learn about refugees, the reasons and conditions of their flight, and their limited possibilities of finding safe refuge. It was in no way incidental that the Refugee Outreach & Research Network (ROR-n) was founded at the same time to bring together transnational researchers in the field.2 Neither is it incidental 1

2

This edited volume is the outcome of the conference “In/Visibility of Flight”, organized on the occasion of the World Refugee Day 2021 at the Austrian Academy of Sciences in Vienna. ROR-n was founded in autumn 2015 in Vienna on the initiative of several institutes at the Austrian Academy of Sciences (OeAW). The network has conducted research projects, organized events, a blog presenting academic results, and has organized the book series on forced migration at transcript publishing house. From the beginning, it was important for ROR-n not to speak about people who had experienced refuge but

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that public interest in and public money for ROR-n had been steadily declining since 2015 until the arrival of displaced Ukrainians in 2022. Media play a pivotal role in the politics of in/visibility. Not only do they make specific topics in/visible but they also frame the interpretation of these topics. In summer 2015, large groups of refugees arriving in Germany and, to a lesser degree, in Austria were depicted as war victims welcomed by the population, eager to help them in their dire situation—much in the same way as the displacement of Ukrainian citizens was framed in early 2022. Interestingly, during this narrow window of time, the media and the public also distinguished between labor migration and flight. However, this differentiated view was soon abandoned and gave way to a politicized portrayal of flight. In both situations (2015 and 2022), the spotlight on a part of the phenomenon led to visibility as well as invisibility. This invisibility applied to entire groups of people: while the situation in Syria became an important topic in 2015, the flight reasons of Afghan people remained largely ignored, and while white Ukrainian citizens were welcomed in 2022, third-country residents as well as the large Roma population of Ukraine were neither given legal rights nor public attention (cf. Müller in this volume). Furthermore, in both cases, images and narratives were framed in a specific way: refugees were depicted as helpless victims, dependent on the benevolence of the native population. In 2015 this framing was frequently emphasized by a focus on local supporters; the term “helpie” was sometimes used in a critical-ironic way for the new genre of selfies of helpers with “their” refugees, frequently dubbed “protégés”. The many forms of agency of refugees who, after all, managed to get to Europe by crossing the sea, rivers, and mountains as well as several borders, remained invisible (Cf. Najoula in this volume). In the case of Ukraine in 2022, the image of the helpless refugee was reinforced by the fact that mostly women and children were able to leave their country of origin (as men fit for military service were not allowed to do so). Heidrun Friese (2019) argues that “making visible” or “visibility” are part of a political strategy, as images have an inherently high degree of mobilization. Images are able to evoke threats and thus legitimize the practices of border regimes. On the other hand, Friese argues, visibility is also an essential feature of humanitarian and critical discourse to visualize suffering, legitimize humanitarian actions, and evoke critical discourses. to involve academics who had to flee their country. This has been realized in form of an internship program at OeAW and in involving refugees in research projects.

M. Mokre and M. Six-Hohenbalken: Introduction: in/visibility, privilege, and discrimination

A specific form of mobilization can be observed in the case of displaced people from Ukraine, when images of helpless white women were juxtaposed to dark men whose public image has been radically reversed since 2015: they are no longer victims but perpetrators by definition as they endanger “our European (or national) culture” as well as individual perpetrators as they are frequently framed as (potential) criminals (Cf. Mokre in this volume). This process of framing corresponds with two strategies of in/visibility. On the one hand, in/visibility is an integral part of border and exclusion/inclusion regimes (Topac 2019), e.g., in the form of gendered representations of refugees (Friese 2017). In consequence of this staging within refugee regimes, “[…] a hierarchy of victims with regard to their visibility is established. Due to dramatic, medialized (and aestheticized) images of rescue, there are those who are highly visible and those who are left to a nameless, unseen death at the border beyond Europe’s borders in the Mediterranean” (Friese 2022, 50). Ideologies and political powers define which lives should be saved and which not, which lives are qualified as such and which are not understood as lived or lost (Butler 2009). On the other hand, however, those who somehow manage to live where their sheer existence is seen as undesirable or threatening are made highly visible in a negative way, and their visibility poses a continuous threat to their lives. In this situation, invisibility becomes a privilege while visibility leads to persecution, e.g., due to racial profiling (cf. Kohlenberger in this volume). Here, visibility or visibilization are connected to questions of surveillance and control, or as Elliott and Urry (2010, 120) argue, “So those living mobile lives are subject to enhanced forms of surveillance at-a-distance, and this is especially so of those forced to move as refugees or asylum seekers or temporary workers.” There is an obvious yet intricate interplay between media and official politics. The media not only shape politics but also frequently reinforce them.3 While the media have always relied on economics of attention, arguably, politics have become more based on sensations and exceptional events over time. Therefore, the drama of flight plays an important (ambiguous) role in both realms, whereas the many “difficulties of the plains” (Bert Brecht) in the country of arrival remain largely invisible (Cf. Mardnli, Najoula, Kohlenberger, Hooshmand/Kohlbacher and Kohlbacher/Six-Hohenbalken in this volume).

3

Guy Debord characterizes the current social system, as “La Sociéte du Spectacle” (1996). Jean Baudrillard (1981) analyzes the interconnectedness of politics and media and speaks about simulation. In the postmodern world and media, the overarching intention is not to depict reality but rather a staged visual mediality.

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This invisibility also applies to the necessary and effective agency of refugee communities after their arrival (Cf. Rössl, Tayebi, Hooshmand and Kohlbacher and Kohlbacher and Six-Hohenbalken in this volume). Economics of attention rely on narratives of the unique and unprecedented, thereby hindering knowledge gained from long-term perspective (Cf. Traska in this volume). Moreover, economics of attention shed light on specific elements of a development and a specific angle of narration, thereby rendering other parts of history invisible, as Moradi (in this volume) shows on the example of Êzîdîs in Iraq. In/visibility depends on the opportunity and form of representation in the dual sense of this term—to be depicted and to be able to stand in for one’s own interests. It is a privilege of hegemonic majorities to choose how to represent themselves. Oppressed minorities as well as people forced to migration usually do not have this opportunity. They are neither allowed to represent their own interests nor their experiences and fates (see e.g., Bird, Saalfeld, and Wust 2011). This holds true for the frequent practice of negative framing in the media but also for the selective ways in which international NGOs depict refugees, frequently focusing on the image of helpless victims and, as a result, creating hierarchies of vulnerability and worthiness of charity. In this vein, NGOs become part of refugee regimes (see e.g., Bauer-Amin, Schiocchet, and Six-Hohenbalken 2022). While research on forced migration gains much less public attention than media coverage, it still contributes to this specific economics of attention and representation. Research is never innocent: intentionally or unintentionally, it contributes to or acts against mainstream understanding. When it comes to topics, methods, and authors, we can arguably still observe a prevailing methodological nationalism and focus on the Global North. Even research focused on issues of the Global South frequently assumes a perspective from the Global North, not least because of the countries of origin of the researchers and the use of methods coming from the Global North, out of the tradition of enlightenment, thereby ignoring other forms of knowledge production. David Tyfield and Anders Blok (2016, 629) call for methodological cosmopolitanism to encompass movements, flows and interconnections across established socio-geographical, cultural and political boundaries. They argue for a fundamental methodological shift in which “methods” are no longer instruments of an objective collection of knowledge and insist on dialogical interventions to enable knowledge. In this vein, research data are not seen as

M. Mokre and M. Six-Hohenbalken: Introduction: in/visibility, privilege, and discrimination

given “facts” but rather open the field for “new, promising boundary-crossing connections”. From a methodological point of view, a variety of approaches are demonstrated in this edited volume. In addition to traditional quantitative and qualitative methods of the social sciences, the authors also apply historical comparative approaches, art-based research methods as well as autoethnographic perspectives and take linguistic considerations into account to some extent. Refugees are constantly forced to translate their lives in the language of the law of their country of residence (Cf. Mokre in this volume) or to the respective political “speech genres” (Bakhtin 1986). The connectedness of visibility and language in refugee regimes, migratory contexts and multilingual societies is convincingly shown in some recent most volumes (e.g. The Power of Voice in Transforming Multilingual Societies, by Gspandl, Korb, Heiling and Erling 2023, and Voicing Plurality in an Open World, by Grond, Heiling, Hergenröther and Unger-Ullmann, forthcoming). These volumes follow the Linguistic Citizenship approach, focus on various manifestations of languages and thus integrate also film, art and literature. The topic of language is connected to sociopolitical discourses of justice and rights, to question of equity, power relations and to how marginalized speakers can regain their voices. Reclaiming linguistic and cultural participation is thus closely connected to visibility in multicultural settings (see e.g. Isin 2008 and Blommaert and Rampton 2012). Although at first glance there is a regional focus on Austria, individual contributions take a comparative approach. This enables them to identify territorial or nation-state parallels and differences as well as transnational developments. Therefore, this volume not only strives to address the issue of in/visibility by means of content but also to include (and, thus, render visible) different forms of knowledge production and researchers of different backgrounds.

Contributions This book does not primarily aim at a theoretical discussion of (in)visibilization of refuge. Instead, it puts a strong empirical emphasis and presents case studies and innovative approaches (see e.g., Lubkemann 2008). The chapters focus on different experiences—personal and academic experiences as well as the perspectives of people active in the field in various functions—different forms of knowledge production—theories, reflections on practical work, arts-based

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research—and come out of different academic disciplines—social anthropology, sociology, political science, art history, geography and urban studies, migration studies and art. Transgressing academic disciplines and opening up methodological approaches, the authors follow the epistemological interest to widen the scope of research and to render the often long-lasting experiences of refuge visible. The first contribution by Judy Mardnli, Involuntary journey—a picture theater in unjust scenes, is based on the diploma thesis of the author at the University of Arts Linz. It is a personal account of flight and arrival in the form of an artistic work consisting of texts and paintings. In this way, Mardnli attempts to detach himself from frequently traumatizing experiences not by letting them go but by translating them into art. “I suddenly find myself in the middle of a theater, in a role that I would never have chosen voluntarily,” writes Mardnli. By finding a way to present and represent this role and his reflections on it, the author rejects the role of a passive victim and regains agency in his own life. These effects of visibility on the possibilities of agency are addressed from an academic bird-eye view by Hooshmand Alizadeh and Josef Kohlbacher in Visibility and interactions of immigrant Kurdish women in urban public spaces: a comparison of Vienna and Cologne. Alizadeh/Kohlbacher show how the visibility of Kurdish women in public space strengthens their individual and collective agency and furthers social interactions. In order to develop the self-confidence to become visible participants in urban life, migrant women need to feel safe and accepted in public space; the preconditions for such a situation are illustrated in a detailed statistical analysis. Inclusive public spaces as part of urban infrastructure are thus paramount for the empowerment of migrant women. The question of female agency and empowerment is also taken up by Naseem Tayebi in Ethical reflexivity in qualitative study and participatory research among Afghan refugee women in Munich, Germany. Tayebi’s PhD project investigates Afghan women refugees’ challenges and experiences in accessing reproductive health care after their arrival in Germany. At the same time, it is designed as a form of action research, providing opportunities for the participants to develop their own self-help competencies individually and within their communities. Tayebi reflects on her own role as a researcher and the ethical challenges of research with refugees—how to enter the field, create the conditions for meaningful consent of the participants, and carry out interviews in a considerate and respectful way. These challenges were enhanced by the COVID-19 pandemic.

M. Mokre and M. Six-Hohenbalken: Introduction: in/visibility, privilege, and discrimination

Specific requirements for participatory research on and with refugees and migrants also form the topic of the contribution by Lydia Rössl, Federica Zardo, and Christina Khoury, Blurred vision: potential and challenges of co-creation approaches for migrants’ visibility. Based on experiences in the Horizon 2020 project “EasyRights”, the authors discuss co-creation processes developed in interviews, focus groups, workshops, questionnaire surveys and hackathons carried out during the project. Inviting participants to co-design project procedures resulted in the creation of opportunities for mutual learning and shared solutions. Nevertheless, power hierarchies and questions of representation remain a constant challenge. Adequate forms of representation of flight and refugees are not only relevant for research but also for the arts as Georg Traska discusses in “Traces and masks of refugees”. Artistic representations of the visible, the hidden and the ambiguous. The case study for this text is an exhibition which took place in 2020/2021 in Krems, Lower Austria. The power of definition of curators led to difficult selfreflections of the curatorial team regarding the art works and artists to be included, as it is already difficult to define the term “refugee”. This problem was enhanced by the fact that the exhibition did not limit itself to contemporary refugee movements but covered the period of the Second Republic of Austria from 1945 to 2020 with some recourses to the Nazi period. At the same time, this historical perspective made it possible to avoid the sensationalism of the unprecedented frequently used in debates on migration movements. A historical approach can be rendered impossible by acts of mass destruction and genocide, as Fazil Moradi shows in Modernity’s sacrificial tradition: ‘The endless screams of my mother’. He analyzes how IS not only destroyed the livelihood of Êzîdîs in the Iraq town of Şêngâl but, at the same time, aimed at erasing Êzîdî collective and public memories. While camps, financed and organized by international organizations, provide water, food, and shelter (in a limited way), transgenerational memories are only preserved in the oral transmissions of survivors and are in acute danger of being lost entirely. Written history is only too often the history of the victors, rendering invisible entire populations and their cultural heritage. Once again, centuries-old prejudice is used to attack a population. This fate of collective invisibility has been shared for centuries by Roma and Sinti populations in all territories they inhabit. Roma and the war against Ukraine by Stephan Müller reveals how general ignorance about their living conditions has become a life-threatening danger to Roma in Ukraine. Even before the war, discrimination against Roma was widespread in Ukraine. Ever since the be-

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ginning of the war, however, crimes against Roma have been committed by the Russian as well as the Ukrainian army. The flight of Roma to other countries is frequently impeded by bureaucratic problems; furthermore, discrimination against Roma is also common in the countries of arrival, from the side of majority populations as well as of other Ukrainian refugees. However, the situation of the Roma remains as invisible in the countries of arrival as in Ukraine. Even the—for a short time—highly visible fate of white Ukrainian refugees has lost its newsworthiness quickly and, nowadays, Ukrainians in Western Europe share the invisibility of refugees after arrival described by Laila Hajulah as The many fears we live with. The numerous everyday humiliations of life in a camp do not allow room for dealing with the traumata of flight while, at the same time, new traumata arise due to the unwelcoming situation in the country of arrival. Refugees remain alone with the nearly unsurmountable task of reinventing their lives after the destruction of all previous achievements and aspirations. For Hajulah, as for Mardnli, an individual path towards visibility and agency was found in the arts, in the case of Hajulah in a joint theater project. While the suffering and traumata of refugees remain in the dark and their legal rights are only publicly discussed with the aim of curtailing them, unlawful activities of refugees or other migrants gain immediate and high visibility whenever they occur, as Monika Mokre describes in Those in darkness drop from sight. The hypervisibility, invisibility, and voicelessness of refugees. On the example of the high number of femicides in Austria in recent years, the author shows that structural reasons for these forms of killing a largely neglected, while Austrian perpetrators are described as tragic exceptions and foreign offenders as typical cases of criminal behavior of migrants. A politically motivated interplay of invisibility and hypervisibility can be observed here. Newsworthiness and, thus, in/visibility follow cycles and fashions. In the last few years, the hypervisibility of the COVID-19 pandemic rendered most other societal problems invisible. At the same time, the pandemic was only visible in its effects on the majority population; its unequal impact due to socioeconomic and political differences remained mostly unnoted. The last two contributions to this book deal with this issue with regard to refugees and the agency of refugees in this situation. Judith Kohlenberger focuses on Marginalized or essential (workers)? The pandemic effects on humanitarian migrants. She describes how calls for solidarity in the face of the pandemic created a largely nationalistically defined “we”, thereby excluding many of those who had to deal with the greatest challenges

M. Mokre and M. Six-Hohenbalken: Introduction: in/visibility, privilege, and discrimination

of this situation due to their essential jobs in hospitals and retail as well as their frequently precarious economic situation. Specific problems of refugees such as the exacerbation of mental problems and the loss of newly established social relations were ignored; even general communication was not made available to them in an adequate way while, on the other hand, racial profiling could be observed during controls of adherence to COVID-19 measures. The self-organization of refugees in this situation is the topic of the contribution by Maria Six-Hohenbalken and Josef Kohlbacher, ‘Below the radar’—the invisibility of diasporic and refugee networks’ agency during the COVID-19 pandemic. Based on an empirical study on Syrian and Afghan refugees in Vienna, the paper describes the eminently important agency by individuals and associations developed during the first year of COVID-19, frequently transgressing ethnic and religious boundaries. Despite official declarations on the positive impact of volunteer work on integration, the mostly unpaid efforts of refugee networks to alleviate the consequences of the pandemic for their members have largely remained invisible and unacknowledged. The volume, thus, presents a wide range of perspectives on in/visibility—and must, at the same time, limit itself to providing a patchwork of relevant questions on the topic at hand. It is no more—but also no less—than a transdisciplinary endeavor aimed at shedding light on the deeply intertwined political, legal, media-related, collective, and individual reasons and effects of different forms of in/visibility that will hopefully lead to increased interest and further research on this issue.

References Bakhtin, Mikhail. 1986. Speech Genres and Other Late Essays. Translated by Vern W. McGee, edited by Caryl Emerson and Michael Holquist. Austin: University of Texas Press. Baudrillard, Jean. 1981. Simulacres et Simulation. Paris: Galilée. Bauer-Amin, Sabine, Schiocchet, Leonardo and Maria Six-Hohenbalken, eds. 2022. Embodied Violence in Refugee Regimes and Agency. Anthropological Perspectives. Bielefeld: transcript. Bird, Karen, Saalfeld, Thomas and Andreas Wust, eds. 2011. The Political Representation of Immigrants and Minorities. London: Routledge. Blommaert, Jan, Rampton, Ben. 2012. Language and superdiversity. Göttingen: Max Planck Ins. For the Study of Religious and Ethnic Diversity.

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Butler, Judith. 2009. Frames of War. When Is Life Grievable? London, New York: Verso. DeBord, Guy. 2010 [1967]. The Society of the Spectacle. Detroit: Black & Red. Elliott, Anthony and John Urry. 2010. Mobile Lives: Self, Excess and Nature. Oxon, New York: Routledge. Friese, Heidrun. 2017. “Representations of Gendered Mobility and the Tragic Border-Regime in the Mediterranean.” Journal of Balkan and Near Eastern Studies 19, no. 5: 541–556. Special Issue Women in the Mediterranean. doi: https://doi.org/10.1080/19448953.2017.1296260. Friese, Heidrun. 2019. “Framing Mobility. Refugees and the Social Imagination.” In: Die lange Dauer der Flucht—Analysen aus Wissenschaft und Praxis, edited by Josef Kohlbacher and Maria Six-Hohenbalken, 25–41. Institut für Stadt- und Regionalforschung. Wien: Verlag der österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften. Grond, Agnes, Heiling, Angelika, Hergenröther, Oana, Unger-Ullmann, Daniela. Voicing Plurality in an Open World. Wiesbaden: Reichert (forthcoming). Gspandl, Julia, Korb, Christina, Heiling, Angelika, Erling, Elizabeth. 2023. The Power of Voice in Transforming Multilingual Societies. Bristol, Blue Ridge Summit: Multilingual Matters. Isin, Engin F., ed. 2008. Recasting the Social in Citizenship. Toronto: Univ. of Toronto Press. Lubkemann, Stephen C. 2008. “Involuntary Immobility: On a Theoretical Invisibility in Forced Migration Studies.” Journal of Refugee Studies 21, no. 4, 454–475. Topac, Özgün E. 2019. “Humanitarian and Human Rights Surveillance: The Challenge to Border Surveillance and Invisibility?” Surveillance & Society 17, no. 3/4: 382–404. Tyfield, David and Anders Blok. 2016. “Doing Methodological Cosmopolitanism in a Mobile World.” Mobilities 11, no.4.: 629–641, doi: https://doi.o rg/10.1080/17450101.2016.1211829.

Involuntary journey—a picture theater in unjust scenes Judy Mardnli

My work shall talk of this theater, a theater of my refuge.1

Let us begin with memories of my childhood and then move on to the days when the war began. The scene takes us back to the day I fled from my home, when I became a person generally referred to here as a “refugee”. At some point in our lives, we all flee from something: decisions, situations, confrontations, reality, feelings, fear, certainties, uncertainties, and sometimes a war that no one wanted. With this picture theater, I attempt to offer a look behind the curtain and create a different understanding of what it really means to take an involuntary journey.

1

This contribution is based on the paintings for the master thesis in Painting & Graphic Art at the University of Arts Linz, Austria, entitled “Unfreiwillige Reise—ein Bildertheater in ungerechten Szenen”, Universität für künstlerische und industrielle Gestaltung. Institut für Bildende Kunst. Malerei und Grafik. Linz 2021. The text is based on an interview conducted by Maria Six-Hohenbalken with the artist.

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Figure 1

© Judy Mardnli

I remember my childhood. I see myself as a child, sitting in this class and drawing sketches on the table. The teachers were vicious. They used to beat the children with a rod. We were always scared, and they wanted us to speak Arabic. My father used to be a rich man, but when he lost all his money the family was confronted with a new situation; the children had to prepare for a new future. We had to move from a big house to a private apartment, change from a private school to a public school. We kept changing apartments constantly,

Judy Mardnli: Involuntary journey—a picture theater in unjust scenes

as money was often tight and the family had to adjust. At the school in Aleppo, children were still beaten, with three students sharing one spot. We didn’t get new shoes anymore; we were six children and always had water in our shoes; in winter it was very uncomfortable. The woman in the picture is my mother, and I am very deeply connected to her. Our mother selflessly took care of us six children. She was always at home and looked after our clothes, adjusted them to fit and stitched any holes.

Figure 2

© Judy Mardnli

The picture is from my farewell in Syria. It was my last day at home. It also shows that I am not a little boy anymore. I was always jealous of birds and thought they are happy because they can fly, because they are free. There are six stages of life represented, and there are characters that have accompanied me in life. Mother and father—the mother is also depicted somewhat larger because I always had great respect for what she did and accomplished. The column in the middle symbolizes the before and after. The choice of technique (ink on photographic paper) is also relevant, as it is the technique which best allows me to express my memories.

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Figure 3

© Judy Mardnli

This painting relates to what happened to me at the border between Syria and Turkey. I had only one backpack and there was a lady with three children; she gave me her daughter to carry across the border. The girl was three years old and I carried her on my back. We walked and walked. We had already crossed the border, when I saw a sign depicting a skull and crossbones: we had landed on a minefield. I was scared stiff and thought that my life was over now—every step could lead to disaster. The traffickers did not care who lived and who died. We paid them 500–600 € per person. Then I was allowed to move on and took refuge in a forest. After hours, the mother reappeared and took her child. This is when the journey really began. A cab driver scared me because he doubted my chances and wanted 100 € take me to the bus stop in Mardin. It then took me 24 hours by bus to get from Mardin to Istanbul. It was terrible. I couldn’t sleep properly, was dead tired and afraid of the future. I didn’t know what to expect. I knew that life would not be easy. Someone picked me up from the bus station. We were in an apartment and there were other people as well. I didn’t know who they were, where they were going, and what they were planning. It was terrible. A man came to us and said that unfortunately we could not flu to England; we would have to go to Greece by rubber dinghy the same night. I told him I was sorry but that I would not be able to get on a rubber dinghy. I had seen too many people dying on these boats or the dinghy overturning. I said I would not come. Then the man

Judy Mardnli: Involuntary journey—a picture theater in unjust scenes

contacted my father and I said I would return home. I wouldn’t pay 10,000 € for the dinghy. He said that I had to wait, which was no problem for me. Some days later they took us to Edirne, which is right at the border to Greece. Now that was dramatic: we were in the forest and it was completely dark. I can’t see very well at night. I didn’t know where to go; there were only bushes but no trail. It was right on the border, and it was also raining. It was really terrible. We stayed in the forest for 24 hours. That was the next passage for me. There were so many gnats in the forest and they kept biting us. Finally I let them bite me; it was too much, and they bit through my clothes. I was bit everywhere and completely exhausted.

Figure 4

© Judy Mardnli

The three people—this image expresses that when people want to leave, they know how dangerous it is. Many try to make it across the Mediterranean, and they know exactly how dangerous it is. But they have no other option or choice because of the war, and they take the risk.

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Figure 5

© Judy Mardnli

This was the dark forest. The trees looked like monsters or soldiers. There were outlines visible, but they were far away. You didn’t know what was it exactly. In any case, it was very frightening. One must be afraid of these trees. I really thought to myself that I was lost in the forest. We stayed there for 22 hours. We finally came to a river, and met a man who had come to pick us up. Using ropes we he had tied to trees on either side of the river, he took us across the river one at a time. In the last few years, people died on this river because they could not swim and were swept away by the current. But then we were in Greece. We had to turn off our cell phones so we wouldn’t be spotted. In Greece we had to get into a truck. Usually when a truck leaves a country, it’s locked—there’s a fuse with a special metal. It can’t be opened then. The truck was full of products. We didn’t know what was inside, perhaps clothes. I then found space in the back, which was about 50 x 50 cm. I couldn’t lie down properly. I would have liked to tear open the truck’s wall, but I couldn’t and it was pitch black inside. We stayed in the truck for about three days, day and night. But it was always dark. There was a little hole right next to my head that was my window. I could breathe a little from there and look out into the world, find out whether it was day or night. We only had a small water bottle, for three days. We had to pee in a bottle, unfortunately. That’s why we only got a small bottle, so we wouldn’t have to use the bathroom. It was so hot. The driver once decided to go to sleep, and left us in the heat. That was even worse—we were 17 people in

Judy Mardnli: Involuntary journey—a picture theater in unjust scenes

the truck, like mice stuck inside. Everyone was wondering what we were going to do now. We couldn’t get out, as the truck was locked. We thought we were going to die if it stayed like this. I called my father. My father called someone else, who then contacted the trafficker. And the trafficker finally called the driver. He came, aired the truck for five minutes, and we moved on. It was a path to certain to death for me. After three days, it was over and we were at the Hungarian-Austrian border. I don’t know if the people we met at the time spoke German or Hungarian. In any case, they said something and we were allowed to continue. After a few hours, the truck stopped at a highway and we got out. I think we were in Burgenland [one of the Austrian federal provinces]. I saw windmills and some airplanes; it must have been near the airport. The first thing we saw was a corn field. We immediately went into the field. I didn’t know exactly where I was. We were eating corn. When we finally got out of the field, we reached a house—it was a brothel. Only I dared to go in; only women were there. I asked for a glass of water and then for another. And then said that I needed some more for my companions. They then supplied us with water. We could not continue together, and each of us went in a different direction. I was joined by an old man and we wanted to continue to Germany. Some of my relatives live in Germany. We arrived in Vienna. The old man looked a bit conspicuous, and were checked on the train to Passau. We didn’t have a passport, were forced to leave the train and taken to Traiskirchen [Austria’s largest refugee camp]. Now that was another world all to itself. I couldn’t sleep for three days because I always kept returning to the forest in my dreams.

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Figure 6

© Judy Mardnli

The people in this painting were in the same truck I was, like the woman on the right side with the bag. There are birds once again—a symbol of freedom on this terrible journey. Depicted on the book is an image of me. It is to symbolize that life is like a book.

Figure 7

© Judy Mardnli

Judy Mardnli: Involuntary journey—a picture theater in unjust scenes

This was the end of the journey. It symbolizes freedom and is a continuation of the previous picture. It was a beautiful view after all this darkness. Here you can see the birds flying free, without any fear, without shooting or anything happening. The landscape is Gmunden with the Ort Castle. It’s in the Salzkammergut region, which has always inspired me a lot. This beauty [of the mountain landscape] also means home to me—home means feeling safe, feeling comfortable, being able to sleep without fear of a bomb coming down. That’s by far the most important thing for me. I have always seen light along the way. I never stopped remembering my mother. My journey was very hard. When I was in the forest, I cried my eyes out because I couldn’t walk anymore, couldn’t run anymore. We were constantly on the move for 22 hours. That was also their goal—we were supposed to move as fast as possible. And we were like flies to the traffickers. They don’t care whether someone survives or dies. It was all about the money. We were 17 people, and each of us paid 10,000 €, which means they made 170,000 €. That’s good business. They don’t want the war to end; they want the countries to remain stuck in this situation, so business can continue. I try to stay positive nonetheless. I always think that tomorrow will be better; life is beautiful even if I’m miserable. There are other people who are even worse off. We should remain positive, and not look back but always forwards. That is my goal, always.

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Visibility and interactions of immigrant Kurdish women in urban public spaces: a comparison of Vienna and Cologne Hooshmand Alizadeh and Josef Kohlbacher

Introduction “The capacity to live with difference is, in my view, the coming question of the 21st century” (Hall 1993, 361). For Jane Jacobs (1961), the main purpose and driving force of the city is to “take a myriad of strangers, mix them up and turn them into co-creators of a better life.” (Jacobs 1961, 462) This means attributing cities with the capability of providing something for everyone. That is why cities are the meeting point of different populations in public space, “as best exemplified by the ancient agora”, which provided an arena for political, economic, and cultural activities as a place of assembly, a market place, and a place of rituals and ceremonies (Madanipour 2004). This defines the city as a theater of social action crystallized in public space (Mumford 1937). It is, therefore, a key sphere for understanding everyday social relations. As such, public space is the theater of divergent needs and demands of utilization. The presence of a variety of people assures that no single group prevails, and that the space is safe and welcoming for all, particularly for women (UN Habitat 2015, Gehl 2011). Women are still disadvantaged in many socio-economic areas and particularly by patriarchal family structures. It is essential for them to appear as equal users of public space and be visible in the urban public realm. Therefore, “perceptions of difference and particular behaviors by different users can mean that spaces can be divisive as well as inclusive.” (Holland et al. 2007, ix)

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Today’s European cities experience increasing ethnic diversity, as largescale immigration has likewise increased in recent decades. This has intensified the extent of social inequality and segregation. Given that most of these immigrants are from Islamic countries in North Africa and the Middle East, they often entered new urban contexts with the cultural and social background of their original communities, especially in terms of gender segregation. Urban players have been criticizing the concepts of gender segregation for decades, and over time have prepared the ground with specific programs for greater gender balance and equality within the community. In such a context, immigrants are confronted with new spatial behaviors that are not compatible with the norms and mental concepts familiar to them from their previous society. This sometimes leads to social segregation challenges, and in some cases even to gender-based violence in the households or outside in the public realm. That is why, according to Soja, space is an important lens for examining the extent of the presence of minority groups in the host community, who are trying to manage their visibility as a driver for social interactions (Soja 1996, De Backer 2019). With this background in mind, and emphasizing the nature of urban public spaces as the most accessible spatial arena of the city, this study argues that public spaces can generally play a significant role in democratic social development. They should, however, allow for “non-commodified social encounters, inclusive expressive presence, and active participation”. They do not serve as determinants of social behavior or factors of an imagined homogeneous totality, but rather to help people from the various parts of society to cross the lines of segregation to interact with other ethnic groups (Madanipour 2020, 182). The issue of visibility or invisibility of Kurdish women in urban areas is very complex (Syrett and Keles, 2019). The statelessness of Kurds resulted in their relative yet official invisibility within European settlement countries (King 2008). As a recent study on Kurdish diaspora entrepreneurship in Vienna shows (Kohlbacher and Punz, 2022), the majority of Kurdish diaspora entrepreneurs, men as well as women, prefer to run their businesses undercover to a certain extent, i.e. there is no indication of the entrepreneur’s affiliation to the Kurdish community in the name of the company, in the goods offered, etc. This is primarily due to political reasons, especially in the case of Kurds from Turkey, or can be traced back to experiences of persecution and discrimination in their country of origin. Some still fear economic disadvantages in Vienna and the loss of certain groups of customers, should their affiliation with the Kurdish diaspora become known.

H. Alizadeh and J. Kohlbacher: Visibility and interactions of immigrant Kurdish women

In the case of Kurdish women, the ambivalence between visibility and invisibility occurs in multi-faceted ways. Female self-employed workers particularly reported hostility from entrepreneurs and customers from Turkish communities, which even led to the relocation of their place of business within Vienna (Kohlbacher and Punz, 2022). It cannot be precisely determined which percentage of Kurdish women arrived in Austria by way of flight. They are visible in public spaces as women with a migration—and sometimes refugee—background from the Middle East, but not as members of Kurdish communities. Many of them use public spaces in a rather self-determined way, but traditional value systems still determine their behavior in public space to some extent. As women, they are subject to stricter social control by their families or the community than men, especially regarding their visibility. Religion also plays a certain role, as Alevi women as well as women from secular families often enjoy greater freedom than those of more traditional Muslim families. Flight is indeed only one of many reasons why the Kurdish women we interviewed came to Vienna and Cologne. Many of them are not refugees in the classic sense, and reasons for flight have determined the immigration of Kurds and Kurdish women to varying degrees, depending on their countries of origin and periods of immigration. Due to political repression in Turkey, many Kurdish families decided to seek employment in the context of guest-worker migration to Germany and Austria in the 1960s and 1970s (Keles, 2015). At first glance, this was a case of labor migration yet in terms of motivation, it also included flight as well as the desire for political and personal freedom. From the late 1980s to the mid-1990s, the intense war between the Turkish state and the Kurdistan Workers’ Party (PKK) caused a significant Kurdish influx into Europe (Syrett and Keles, 2019). Since Turkey particularly maintained its repressive policy towards the Kurdish minority, flight motives remained relevant in the context of Kurdish labor migration and family reunification. Further major flows of Kurdish migrants to Europe came from Iraq, as a result of the displacement and mass killing of Kurds, and the suppression of Kurdish armed insurrections in Iraq and Turkey (Van Bruinessen, 2000). The recent immigration of Kurds from Syria corresponds to a classic refugee movement caused by war and displacement. Together with refugee flows from Iran, these varied forms of migration have created a large and diverse Kurdish diaspora in Europe. Its invisibility, however, is also mirrored in the absence of reliable statistical information. The total European Kurdish population is estimated at over 1.5 million, with the majority from the Kurdistan Region of Turkey, and the largest settle-

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ment populations in Germany, the UK, Sweden, and France (Syrett and Keles, 2019, 64). Although there are some studies on the status of Kurdish women in different Kurdish regions throughout the Middle East, there are hardly any specific analyses of immigrant Kurdish women’s visibility in public spaces from a comparative perspective. We, therefore, investigate the extent of Kurdish women’s visibility and social interactions in public space in two European urban contexts. The initial hypothesis is that a political gender mainstreaming approach is effective in the production of inclusive public spaces to render Kurdish women more visible both during the day and at night. Vienna and Cologne were chosen as case study cities for comparison because of their large Kurdish diasporas. Vienna has the largest in Austria, Cologne the secondlargest in Germany after Berlin. Both metropolises, however, lack even rough estimations of their population with Kurdish roots. Pragmatic reasons of sampling during pandemic conditions were even more relevant as cooperative relationships with the Kurdish communities and their associations already existed in both cities. A structured online questionnaire was used for data collection purposes. The particular focus was on women’s attitudes towards visibility in public spaces, which also shows the status of their interactions in public spaces. We applied a comparative analysis using a quantitative survey based on a standardized questionnaire. In order to conduct the survey properly, some of the questionnaires (20%) were completed during face-to-face interviews. With the spread of COVID-19 in 2020, we had to change our strategy to using Facebook and WhatsApp as popular social-media platforms among Kurdish women in Europe. We created a link to the online questionnaire in Persian, Kurdish (Sorani), and German. Snowball sampling was used to reach the target population aged 25–70, while the sample sizes reached 98 and 93 in Vienna and Cologne respectively. The Statistical Package for Social Sciences (IBM SPSS Statistics 25) was used to analyze the data and generate results.

The nature of public space As an integral part of the physical and social fabric of the city, public spaces surround us almost everywhere (Madanipour 2010). This is why Jan Gehl calls them the life between buildings or the mediating space between private territories (Gehl 2011). They connect the spaces of home, work, and study, thus providing

H. Alizadeh and J. Kohlbacher: Visibility and interactions of immigrant Kurdish women

the context and opportunity for the enhancement of public life (Varna 2016). As such, they are important for our understanding of everyday social relationships and ultimately a key element of sustainable urban development. Where public space is absent, inadequate, poorly designed or privatized, the economy and society of the city cannot function properly. Apart from its spatiality, “the prevailing system of laws, practices, and relations [also] conditions the qualities of a public [space]” (Staeheli, Mitchell, and Nagel 2009, 641). Low-quality public space in socio-spatial dimensions can be a signal of the disintegration of social and spatial ties in a city, and a result of the possibility of segregated lines drawn on the basis of gender, religion, ethnicity, and economic status. For Amin, well-organized public space offers an opportunity to move away from the daily grind to engage in public life and build connections with strangers, which increases the chances of tolerance and social bonding in a multicultural society (Amin 2008). For labor migrants and refugees who have been forced to leave their homeland and relocate to another country due to political, ideological, occupational or educational difficulties, public space is the first contact zone in which they can experience the atmosphere of a new urban environment. There, they can also make their first social contacts with the receiving society outside asylum centers (Kohlbacher and Rasuly-Paleczek, 2018, 31–33). It gives them proximity to others as well as the opportunity towards exchange in speech and action. This in turn manifests “the space of appearance—where I appear to others as others appear to me, where men exist not merely like other living or inanimate things but make their appearance explicitly something that is being seen and heard by others as well as by ourselves” while still maintaining different appearances (Arendt 1998, 50 and 198). “Being an arena of visibility and inter-visibility between social actors”, public space or publicly accessible space are physical spaces that are relatively open to a range of people and behaviors, which provides the opportunity of communication and potential reciprocal (mis)understandings (Saint-Blancat and Cancellieri 2014, 656; Staeheli , Mitchell, and Nagel 2009). This is because one does not need any special key or ID to enter such spaces, and one can freely use them, particularly when the fear of violence in general and racist attacks in particular are absent. It is where the city life, especially the reality of a multicultural society and its different issues, come into being with the possibility of interaction, participation, integration, and minimization of isolation or segregation due to diversity. Public spaces enable people from different cultural backgrounds to meet face to face, which may lead to social interaction, depending on the conditions and events within the space. In

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addition, as a prerequisite for social capital is defined in terms of interactions between individuals, public spaces can provide a specific socio-spatial context for such encounters and the formation of social interactions. As the opportunities towards social interactions in public spaces create a sense of presence and acceptance with immigrants, they usually lead to the formation of bridging social networks among one another. This in turn creates a sense of place that is effective in vertical connections associated with public institutions and community resources in their local area (Dines et al. 2006). Social networks that are trans-ethnic, non-racial and interreligious in nature can be effective in promoting social capital that helps minimizing destructive actions (Ijla 2012, 49). More importantly, social networks can reinforce the concept of “civic integration” in the public sphere by considering the nature of these spaces, which include both casual and organized social interactions. The institutionalization of such sustainable intergroup civic behavior, in turn, leads to a reduction of prejudice and fewer instances of stereotyping. Social networks furthermore develop the norms needed for interaction and trust to build solidarity and a cohesive society in culturally superdiverse urban contexts (Lovrich and Pierce 2016). This process of social interaction and integration can be recognized as a process of empowerment in particular for female refugees, having a voice to invert stigmata and a place to set up their own performance. In contrast to such an optimistic view of ethnic and cultural diversity and interaction in public spaces, diversity may have negative consequences to social cohesion. Every culture needs its own activities and self-expression of identity in public spaces. This behavior may lead to isolation from others, creating conflict, and as a result, intolerance, alienation, and isolation. Public spaces can also be venues with a co-presence of incompatible behaviors, such as “street drinkers with mothers who bring their children to play in the park, or the boisterous youth with the vulnerable elderly on the streets” (Madanipour 2020, 181). As explained by Gesemann (2013, 215–218), it is especially young men of migration background who are perceived as causing conflicts in public spaces. However, this opinion is often based on subjective, prejudiced perceptions and therefore only partly corresponds to the facts. Optimal intercultural communication requires relatively equal conditions between cultures. This is promoted through shared power and civic identity, which in turn creates a sense of shared place, a feeling of security for personal contact, and having things in common. Furthermore, working on activities with common goals, avoiding competitiveness, and receiving support from officials and institutions all add to the optimization of intercultural communication (Askins and

H. Alizadeh and J. Kohlbacher: Visibility and interactions of immigrant Kurdish women

Pain 2011; Massana 2018; Arendt 1998). Along with these factors, openness to change is important because it facilitates an active atmosphere of engagement despite differences, rather than one of benign indifference (Stolle et al. 2013).

Women’s visibility in public space The ability to reach beyond those who are already known to each other and to draw strangers into discourse is a critical step—and perhaps the defining step—in the construction of a public. This is the geography in which people claim—through visibility, through protest, and through banal activities—their rights to be included in the public realm (Staeheli, Mitchell, and Nagel 2009, 641 ff.). At least since the 18th and first half of the 19th century, women have, as a fact, had more limited access to public space than men due to the nature of power exercised in the public realm and the related social system. The latter was rather oriented towards men than women, as it effectively influenced spatial patterns and gendered spaces (Doan 2010). From the mid-19th century onwards, women’s presence in public spaces gradually increased in countries of the Western hemisphere. Women found relatively greater freedom to see and be seen in public space, as is best exemplified by Sewell’s examination of women’s everyday experiences in San Francisco, 1890–1915 (Sewell 2011). As female workers and consumers became more familiar with urban public spaces, they gained the ability to challenge and transform “the ideological conventions and political restrictions of their day” (Reilly 2012, 126). Leach emphasizes the culture of consumption in downtown shopping districts in the Victorian era. For her, this freedom of access affected women’s social life, and particularly gave them “a measure of economic power they lacked by not working”. It furthermore helped them to transform their own sense of individuality as well as their relationship to the city (Leach 1984, 333). World War I and the 1920s brought enormous progress in the emancipation of women in Western societies. This was reflected in professional and educational opportunities, but also in freedoms of leisure, which included spending time in public spaces. With the increasing relevance of consumer demands and the growing economic independence of women in the 20th century, shopping and related public urban spaces became increasingly important to women’s leisure activities. That is why shopping malls have positively affected women’s public

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visibility and personal autonomy (Southerton 2011, 633). Resorting to various examples of women’s visibility in public spaces, Elizabeth Currans attempts to illustrate that women transform public spaces through the framework of “holding space”. They thus claim their right to the city in accordance with their political goals. According to Currans, women must be present emotionally, intellectually, and physically to achieve the transformation of public spaces. This, along with other opportunities towards effective encounters with other people, allows them “to carve out spaces where they can gain a foothold; they exploit openings provided by those with power and struggle to expand the space available for other ways of [visibility]” (Currans 2017, 3). In line with the examples above, let us take a look at some cases beyond the West. For Mona Abaza, the shopping malls in Egypt have gradually become a public place of social interaction, a “locus and meeting place for groups of young girls”, and thus “ideal places for mixing and for strolling” (Abaza 2001, 117–118). They even allow further casual encounters and enable people to take walks together. Abaza comes to the conclusion that women gradually gained their independence and self-confidence through survival strategies to conquer public spaces in today’s Egypt. Although not directly mentioned by Abaza, these changes in the social life of women can be related to two important sources. Firstly, there is “a growing pool of educated women who are more likely to challenge their second-class citizenship both in the family and in society at large” (Moghadam 2010, 22). Secondly, the wave of globalization offers new opportunities towards challenging existing injustice. This happens particularly through new trends supported by communication technology, which were established by the forces of modernization, and present new challenges to patriarchy and the inequality of women (Neumayer and De Soysa 2011). In the works of Eda Ünlü Yücesoy (2006) as well as Selda Tuncer (2014), who both focus on women’s experience of everyday urban public space in Turkey, modernization reforms of the state increased the possibility of higher education and employment for women in the last decades of the 19th century (Ünlü Yücesoy 2006). In the context of reforms in the Atatürk era since the 1920s, this practice has been referred to as “state feminism” (Tekeli 1990, 152). This served as a means for promoting women’s public visibility, which gradually brought about some changes in the social fabric of society, particularly in favor of young middle-class women who appreciated stylish and modern neighborhoods. They presented opportunities towards new behavior and social experiences, for example in the lobbies of hotels, in restaurants, theaters, cafes, or parks (Ünlü Yücesoy 2006). These new public spaces served as the

H. Alizadeh and J. Kohlbacher: Visibility and interactions of immigrant Kurdish women

sites of people’s socialization as modern citizens. Here, “men and women could come together in modern forms of dress to socialize and be entertained” (Tuncer 2014, 65). In this change, as Tuncer (2014) argues, the first generation of female post-reform Turkish citizens, born before 1950, was more attached to home, domestic life, and dependence on the male members of the family. They “were deeply involved in the reproduction of the notions of proper womanhood through their performance and their transmission to the next generations” (Tuncer 2014, 379). In contrast, the second generation displayed a more liberal mindset and an increasing desire to participate in public life. They could access public space and participate in social life independently due to their higher level of education and their engagement in a professional career. This in turn facilitated the formation of social networks and greater spatial movement within the city. Their increased public visibility facilitated a broader spectrum of social roles and spatial experiences. Thus, they were encouraged to take risks and overcome the barriers set by their families or society. Anouk De Koning studied the daily navigation of young, female uppermiddle-class professionals in Cairo’s public spaces in their late 1920s and early 1930s. She illustrates the routine movement of high-powered, young uppermiddle-class women around the city from home to work and to different public spaces, including coffee shops, cinemas, and concerts. As she states, these women usually spend much of their time in the diverse upmarket spaces of work and leisure, mostly due to the rise of a new bourgeoisie. This provided the possibility of education, and later of professional work for women. Consequently, they enjoy greater visibility in public spaces. In her eyes, the rise of new landscapes of public spaces for leisure activities are closely related to the consumption patterns and lifestyles of the young upper-middle-class in Cairo, which serves to indicate their “modernity and sophistication” (De Koning 2009, 541). She concludes that, due to the problem of the words and gazes of unrelated men in open public spaces, such as the streets of Cairo, coffee shops provided a protected niche as a semi-public, socio-physical environment. Here, young women could experience mixed-gender socialization while remaining uninfluenced by passers-by. In Iran, emancipatory impulses for women’s rights have been set by the eve of the Constitutional Revolution (1906–9), followed by modernization and reforms launched by Riza Shah’s agenda in the 1930s. This particularly included his plan concerning the liberation of civil law from the Sharia (Sullivan 1998). As Afsaneh Najmabadi points out, it was within the school environment that

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girls first learnt to claim their rights as citizens. They then worked towards “a new social self through patriotic (Vatani) political activities” (Najmabadi 1998, 114). This means that the schools acted as a social space for women, which provided them with the possibility to break out of the trap of “domesticity”. Thus, they were able to gain an identity and develop their vision of cautious claims to equality in the world of public spaces. With the rise of the Islamic revolution in 1978, the black veil became a precondition for women’s presence in public spaces only one year after the revolution (Amir-Ebrahimi 2006). Although women were once again marginalized into new roles established by religious traditionalists, they no longer accepted such a setback due to the attitudes and practices of modernity. Therefore, they gradually learned how to deal with the problem of marginalization, particularly concerning re-veiling and their exclusion from public space. As Masserat Amir-Ebrahimi indicates, contrary to the previous regime in which the government defined the rights of women, they were now obliged to re-acquire their right of presence and visibility in public spaces themselves. According to Bayat, the struggle of women for their rights in public spaces can be witnessed “through mundane daily practices in public domains, such as working, playing sports, studying, showing interest in art and music, or running for political offices. Imposing themselves as public players, women managed to make a significant shift in gender dynamics, empowering themselves in education, employment, and family law, while raising their self-esteem” (Bayat 2010, 97). According to Amir-Ebrahimi, the long-lasting struggle for women’s presence and their active role in public spaces empowered Iranian women to remove even more restrictions concerning their rights in different spheres of social life. This, along with economic necessity, the wave of globalization, and the fast-growing use of social media, presents women with great opportunities and access to the outer world, which worked as a snowball and ushered in a time to say that the notion of remaining in the enclosed spaces of their households is coming to an end (Amir-Ebrahimi 2006). The best examples of this claim can be seen in the protests of young women against a law that makes wearing a hijab compulsory, such as when young women removed their headscarves in one of Tehran’s busiest public spaces in 2018. Recent struggles of young women to enter public stadiums in 2019 and during the Iran-Lebanon football match of March 29, 2022 (Imam Reza stadium in Mashhad) and the new women’s movement in Iran that emerged in 2022 (Sajadi 2023), shine more light on women’s rights in Iran and their achievements in conquering public spaces.

H. Alizadeh and J. Kohlbacher: Visibility and interactions of immigrant Kurdish women

Collectively, these studies outline important insights concerning women and public spaces in Middle Eastern cities. From a traditional perspective, the idea that public spaces are unsafe is still persistent in the social life of many people in this urban context. Its origin lies in the socio-cultural norms, mostly determined by the religious aspects of their lives. For decades, there have been lively scholarly discussions about the extent to which religious and cultural traditions contradict or overlap. The debates also concern the relevance of religion vs. tradition for women’s behavior in relation to the use of public spaces. Although modernization, globalization, and close contact with Western culture and lifestyle, intensified by the impact of social media, have brought opportunities for greater visibility of women in public spaces, women mostly frequented enclosed spaces such as coffee shops or shopping malls. As explained, this is associated with the safe environment of such spaces and their atmosphere, which brought the young women away from social and family norms and restrictions, and particularly from the gaze of passers-by. From a liberal perspective, it was largely the onset of modernization and its social programs that opened a new era for women’s emancipation. It enabled women to partake in education, public life, politics, and the economy. Later on, attempts towards attaining gender rights accompanied these developments. Women’s education served as a starting point for their emancipation to leave the house alone, and to think, analyze and develop their own opinions. It provided them with confidence to speak and recognize their own rights as humans and members of the community. This paved the way for women to access civil society and carve out a series of social spaces with some amount of independence, thereby acquiring their active presence and considerably enhancing their movement and visibility in public spaces. In the view of Asef Bayat, this means that public visibility acted as a springboard for women, first to make inroads into patriarchal power and then to participate in public activity. It expanded their horizons, aspirations, and self-esteem, and gave them self-confidence, new social skills, and knowledge of the city. It also encouraged many to return to school, to volunteer for NGOs or charities, and to find a job (Bayat 2010, 102). As a result of the review above, the following aspects can be highlighted for the purpose of this research to examine the extent of immigrant Kurdish women’s visibility and interactions in urban public space in Vienna and Cologne. We will now consider the two main components of our study: the first concerns aspects of visibility, including the three factors of frequenting public spaces, sense of safety, and meaningful social activities; the second

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concerns aspects of invisibility, regarding barriers of presence and barriers of contact for the target population.

Case-study cities The capital of Austria with its rich historical legacy is the second-largest German-speaking city after Berlin: according to the latest statistics of January 1, 2021, Vienna was home to 1,920,949 inhabitants. The population will hit the two-million mark in the near future. Vienna experienced the so-called “guestworker” immigration of unskilled workers, mainly from Yugoslavia and Turkey, in the mid-1960s. In recent decades, its location in Central Europe at the interface of east and west increased the attraction to labor immigration from eastern Europe. This predominantly plays out as migration within the EU as well as immigration from the Middle East, in which forced migration plays a dominant role. It includes countries of origin affected by scenes of political turmoil and major warfare, such as Syria, Afghanistan, Iran, and Iraq. According to local statistics, 31.5% of the population were foreign nationals in early 2021, and about 41.9% or 805,039 residents of Vienna were of foreign origin1 , with the largest groups of immigrants coming from Serbia, Turkey, Germany and Poland.2 When it comes to the absolute numbers of Kurds living in Vienna, there are only vague estimates, as only citizenship without ethnic background is recorded in official Austrian statistics. Most of the Kurdish people in Vienna are Turkish citizens by origin. This was also true of the respondents in the Vienna sample.3 Immigration creates continuous change and differentiation in lifestyle and value systems, resulting in an increasingly heterogeneous society with equally heterogeneous needs. In Vienna, this diversity became visible in the spatial segregation of the residential population and its segregated use of public spaces (Bosswick et al. 2007; Stadtentwicklung Wien/Magistratsabteilung 18 2006). It brought forward the issue of social and ethnic mixing in communal housing (Bolt et al., 2010), and later the issue of social integration (Gluns 2019,

1 2 3

See https://www.wien.gv.at/english/social/integration/facts-figures/population-migr ation.html. See https://www.wien.gv.at/statistik/bevoelkerung/bevoelkerungsstand/index.html. Our questionnaire did not provide for the determination of the legal status of our respondents.

H. Alizadeh and J. Kohlbacher: Visibility and interactions of immigrant Kurdish women

Esping-Andersen 1990, Asselin et al. 2006). In a growing city with a multicultural background such as this, there is a growing need to provide conditions for a healthy and creative way of conducting life, work, and leisure activities. That is why it is essential to restructure public spaces that are tailored to specific user groups (e.g. spaces for recreation and social interaction/neighborly contacts) (Stadtentwicklung Wien/Magistratsabteilung 18 2006). These should ideally have the leverage of accessibility, sociability, and usability that are effective in promoting women’s visibility. Cologne is located in the German federal state of North Rhine-Westphalia, spanning the Rhine River in the western region of Germany. It is also the historical, cultural, and economic capital of this region. Its population has recently been determined at 1,118,789. According to UN statistics4 , there has been a steady population growth since 2000. This is mainly due to migration gains, which have been considerable since 2015, due to the political turmoil and major warfare in the Middle East, Africa, and Central Asia, as well as economic problems in other countries (Adam et al. 2019). Due to the trend of migration growth, resulting in a positive net migration, 37.8% of Cologne’s population are of migration background according to local statistics (Stadt Köln 2020). That is why the city was recognized as an “arrival city” after having been shaped by immigration from around 182 different nationalities (Adam et al. 2021). Based on current local figures, “approximately half of the refugees who lived in Cologne in September 2017 originated from Syria, Iraq, Iran5 , and Afghanistan” (Adam et al. 2019, 8). Similar to Vienna, the majority of Kurds from Turkey officially immigrated as labor migrants; some were able to prove political persecution and were granted official asylum status. The majority of the Syrians, Iraqis and Afghans registered in Cologne since 2015 were refugees. Cologne has the second-largest Kurdish population in Germany after Berlin although, as is the case in Vienna, exact figures are unavailable. Many Kurdish families from different parts of the Kurdistan region have been there for a long time. In line with the city council’s integrative urban policy on the self-organization of migrants, the diasporas have created local communities for different socio-cultural purposes, particularly concerning women’s rights (Rekxrawi Xanda6 and Centeri

4 5

6

See https://population.un.org/wpp/. Unfortunately, as the figures are based on nationality and not ethnic origin, it is impossible to determine the exact number of Kurdish refugees in Cologne and the share of refugees within the immigrant population. See https://www.messenger.com/t/RekxrawiXanda.

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Jnan7 ). This multi-faceted self-organization allows Kurdish people to become involved in civic activities. Civic engagement in its various forms of expression can be interpreted as a sign of identification with the host community. Stimulating personal identity formation and strengthening individual competence, it promotes integration and, therefore, contributes significantly to the social cohesion of the host society and its (new) immigrants. From a policy-making perspective, civic engagement is a prerequisite and, at the same time, an expression of public visibility and participation. The city’s spatial features have an international character with “diverse forms of migrant infrastructure (restaurant trade, clubs, sites of worship), which support the image of a comparatively open-minded and tolerant urban society”. In principle, this facilitates the public visibility of ethnic minorities to show their capacity and, in turn, represent the city’s cosmopolitan character (Adam et al. 2019, 36; Martiniello 2015). Visible diversity helps people to progress beyond superficial communication to learn something new from each other and to get to know up-and-coming artists and art forms. It also provides a chance to enjoy new experiences and progress towards “a temporary bond and a sense of community”, which in turn is effective in creating social cohesion (Wiesemann 2012, 8).

Kurdish women’s visibility and interactions in urban public space As explained, we conducted a quantitative survey based on a standardized questionnaire to measure the visibility and interactions of Kurdish women in the urban public spaces of Cologne and Vienna. Before discussing the results concerning the two main aspects of in/visibility as well as related factors and sub-factors, we will consider the basic socio-demographic characteristics of the sample population. Table 1 introduces the sample based on basic sociodemographic characteristics as well as issues related to the sense of belonging to their ethnic background and host community, and the extent of German language understanding. It also illustrates certain effects of the sampling method. The majority of the sample population belongs to the category married, with children. With the exception of the age groups 31–40 in Vienna and 41–50 in Cologne, which cover the highest percentage of respondents, the other age groups display an almost normal distribution. Despite a moderate 7

See http://centerijnan.blogspot.com.

H. Alizadeh and J. Kohlbacher: Visibility and interactions of immigrant Kurdish women

difference between the two cities, respondents mostly hold a diploma or university degree. Unfortunately, it is not possible to compare the educational level of the sample with that of the entire population of Kurdish women in the two cities, as educational data is also only collected by nationality. There were three notable aspects we wish to highlight within the samples. First, concerning the occupational status, the majority of respondents are employed women. Second, a large share of the respondents rated their religiosity as “no sense of belonging”. Third, the majority of the respondents (more than 70%) still show a strong sense of belonging to their Kurdish ethnic group (see also Seyrett and Keles 2019; Kohlbacher and Punz, 2022). Findings related to the sense of belonging to the host community are noteworthy. As the table shows, in Vienna, more than 70% of the respondents expressed a general positive attitude towards Austria. In Cologne, the figure is slightly lower at around 68% of respondents expressing a general sense of belonging to Germany. With a degree of difference between the cities, this might indicate a positive social integration trend among Kurdish people in both countries. This is in line with the work of Sarah Demmrich and Maya Arakon, who compared the issue of integration and religion from the perspective of migrants originating from Turkey (Kurdish and non-Kurdish samples) in Germany (Demmrich and Arakon 2021). One can relate this positive trend in integration to the previous experiences of Kurdish people in their homeland as an ethnic minority or to their statelessness, which usually causes a certain pressure towards integration in the new context (Ammann 2001; Schubert and Stölting 2006). Notably, the general standard deviations of both cases show that the results of women are relatively homogenous and close to each other. This might also be an effect of the sampling strategy, resulting from involving local Kurdish organizations for the recruitment of respondents, which most likely resulted in a homogenous sample in both cities.

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Table 1: Sociodemographic and socio-religious structure of the sample population8

8

Background characteristics

Cologne

Vienna

Age (%)

25–30 31–40 41–50 51–60 +61

13.0 24.6 36.2 23.2 2.9

12,3 32,9 16,4 20.5 17.8

Education (%)

No formal education High school Diploma Undergraduate Postgraduate

0.0   23.2 24.6 46.4 5.8

5.5   13.7 35.6 35.6 9.6

Children (%)

Yes No

69.6 30.4

67.1 32.9

Level of religiosity

Strong Neither strong nor weak Weak No sense of belonging

29.0 11.6   14.5 44.9

13.7 28.8   20.5 37.0

Marital status (%)

Married Single

69.6 30.4

58.9 41.1

Occupational status (%)

Housewife Student Employed

21.7 13.0 65.2

30.1 13.7 56.2

How strongly do you identify as a Kurd?

Strong Neither strong nor weak Weak No sense of belonging

69.9 21.7   4.3 4.3

77.00 20.3   2.7 0.0

Unfortunately, we did not collect any data in relation to the legal status of our respondents.

H. Alizadeh and J. Kohlbacher: Visibility and interactions of immigrant Kurdish women

How strongly do you identify as an Austrian/German?

Strong Neither strong nor weak Weak No sense of belonging

13.00 53.6   18.8 14.5

28.4 44.6   18.9 8.1

Understanding the TV news and newspapers in German

well moderately only with difficulty

81.2 15.9 2.9

56.8 33.8 9.5

Source: own survey 2021.

The general results based on an aggregated average are summarized in Table 2. The combined mean of main factors suggests an overall positive pattern and inclination in the respondents’ perceived visibility and interactions in public spaces in Cologne and Vienna. Except for the sense of safety, the mean results of other main factors are similar to a certain extent. The most pronounced difference between the two cities in the women’s perception appears in the average of the sense of safety factor, while the lowest difference appears in the average of the meaningful social activities factor (see Figure 1). Shared ethnic, language, and cultural backgrounds of the sample population, combined with demographic and cultural homogeneity (“arrival cities” with a high immigrant population, both in German-speaking countries) appear to be contributing to these overall similarities.

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Table 2: Mean and standard deviations of five main factors affecting women’s visibility and interactions in public spaces Aspects of

Visibility

Invisibility

Factors

Cologne (C)

Vienna (V)

Mean

Std. deviation

Mean

Std. deviation

Frequenting public spaces

2.74

0.364

2.69

0.456

Sense of safety

3.06

0.575

3.4

0.524

Meaningful social activities

2.67

0.7251

2.505

0.8686

Total

2.82

Presence

3.51

0.314

3.59

0.307

Contact

2.81

0.487

2.58

0.386

Total

3.16

2.86

3.10

Source: own survey 2021.

Figure 1: The difference between Cologne and Vienna in overall Kurdish female visibility and interactions in public spaces

H. Alizadeh and J. Kohlbacher: Visibility and interactions of immigrant Kurdish women

In the following sections, we will present and discuss the detailed results regarding the perceived visibility and interactions of Kurdish women in the public spaces of Vienna and Cologne across each of the five main factors and their sub-factors, including their relationship with the socio-demographic characteristics (independent variables) of the sample population.

Frequenting public spaces The extent to which women frequent public spaces is an important indicator for their visibility in public life and for emphasizing the inclusion of women in line with the “right to the city” that Henri Lefebvre (1996) hoped to see triumph (Lefebvre 1996). Based on the results in this factor, both cases lie in a positive direction ( 2), although the average scores show that overall, Cologne (2.74C) achieved a more positive trend than Vienna did (2.69V). Within the sub-factor of open public spaces, except in the variable of children’s playgrounds (2.28C and 2V), the other variables mirror a higher frequency by women there. In this regard, the three open public spaces of streets (3.54C), public transport stations (3.35V), and parks/green spaces (3.32C) achieved the highest means among other variables. One possible reason for the lower frequency at children’s playgrounds might lie in the age of the children within the sample population. Usually, parents (especially women) are more likely to attend such spaces along with their younger children to take care of them. This means that the sample population has fewer young children, and the differences between Cologne and Vienna can also be related to this reason. The same result is apparent for the two variables of standing or sitting at the children’s playground and walking with their own children under the passive sub-factor of social activities in Table 5. As the variable of children’s age was not included in our survey, we cannot explain this difference in detail. In the case of enclosed public spaces, shopping centers (3.37C and 3.24V) and cafes/coffee shops (3.05C and 2.89V) were the most highly valued in terms of women’s visibility. In both cities, frequenting religious centers (1.08C and 1.33V) remains in a solid negative direction. This result can also be related to the question “How religious are you?” referred to in Table 1. Nearly 60 percent of the respondents (59.4C and 57.7V) reported a weak or even no sense of belonging regarding religion. This result confirms previous studies that demonstrated that “Kurds, in comparison to non-Kurds, have lower levels of religiosity” (Demmrich and Arakon 2021, Driver 1922). Apart from this general point of view, possible reasons for this negative attitude towards religious centers can be found in

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connection with the male-dominated nature of the mosques (Holod and Rastorfer 1983; Hassan 2012; Nyhagen 2019) and the effects of the European immigration context. With regard to the latter, immigrants usually evaluate their position in the host country in relation to their country of origin. In the Middle East, as the major context of the countries of origin, the main barrier to women’s visibility in public life lies in the traditional and conservative societal structure with strong cultural symbolic dimensions that accompanied gender constructions based on religious notions (Jarvis, Kantor, and Cloke 2009; Spellberg 1994). This, along with the patriarchal tradition of the Kurdish tribal structure, restricted the visibility of Kurdish women in public life to some extent (Hassan 2013). The European context on the other hand offered them many opportunities in terms of freedom and visibility in public life.

H. Alizadeh and J. Kohlbacher: Visibility and interactions of immigrant Kurdish women

Table 3: Means and standard deviations of the 12 variables of the frequenting public spaces factor Aspects of visibility

Frequenting public spaces

Measuring item or indicative question

Cologne (C)

Vienna (V)

Mean

Std. deviation

Mean

Std. deviation

Scoring criteria

Open public spaces

3.06

0.441

2.93

0.56

Parks and other green spaces

3.32

0.636

3.29

0.794

Public squares

3.21

0.573

3.12

0.808

Streets

3.54

0.51

3.14

0.926

Children’s playgrounds

2.28

0.874

2

1.19

Public transport stations

2.95

0.969

3.35

0.785

1= Never or almost never 2= Rarely 3= Sometimes 4= Often

Doorstep

3.03

0.675

2.76

0.853

Market street

3.08

0.651

2.86

0.797

Enclosed public spaces

2.42

0.359

2.45

0.469

Shopping centers (malls)

3.37

0.543

3.24

0.668

Community centers

2.1

0.682

2.26

0.815

Cafes, coffee shops and fast-food restaurants

3.05

0.641

2.89

0.868

Swimming pools/public baths

2.5

0.84

2.53

0.982

Religious centers (mosques and …)

1.08

0.202

1.33

0.587

Total

2.74

0.364

2.69

0.456

Source: own survey 2021.

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Sense of safety As literature indicates that women feel less safe in public spaces than men (Gilchrist et al. 1998; Macmillan, Nierobisz, and Welsh 2000; Pain 1997), they usually display greater precautionary behavior in approaching public spaces, particularly those women with the least resources to increase their safety. In addition, “women’s anxiety, particularly for their children, nurtures their fears more as well” (Tandoğan and Ilhan 2016, 2013). Consequently, women and girls might avoid using certain public spaces when/where they feel fear and/or experience violence. Necessary activities might prevent women from avoiding public spaces out of fear, e.g. having to traverse the way to work, school or university. Thus, securing the safety of women in public spaces is one of the most important tasks of gender-sensitive urban planning (see Roy and Bailey 2021; Deutscher Städtetag 2012). We have evaluated the sense of safety of our respondents during the day and night time in the case study cities by asking two main questions. As the results show (Table 4), the sense of safety during daytime remains in a solid positive direction for both cities. In this regard, Vienna (3.71) was rated safer than Cologne (3.51). A pronounced difference was observable between day and night in both cities, with the sense of safety decreasing at nighttime. This confirms the findings in other studies that women tend to be most fearful of violence perpetrated by strangers in urban public spaces at nighttime (Machielse 2015; Plyushteva and Boussauw 2020; Farina, Boussauw, and Plyushteva 2021). As a result, this perception limits their mobility and access to public space, which has been defined as “barriers to nocturnal mobility” (Farina, Boussauw, and Plyushteva 2021). The second point is the extent of women’s sense of safety at night in a comparison between the case study cities. As the results show, Cologne’s mean value reached 2.6 in comparison to Vienna’s 3.09. This shows that Cologne is experienced as not very safe during nighttime, thus affecting the visibility at nighttime of Kurdish women living there. It might, however, also be true for women in general, considering the attacks in Cologne on New Year’s Eve 2015/2016, which particularly took the form of sexual assault against women in public spaces. A comparison with the official crime statistics reveals that media coverage plays a significant role here. Thus, it is important to note that the total number of offences in Cologne decreased sharply from 145,821 (2015) to 113,084 (2020). Sexual offences as a whole, on the other hand, increased by 5.92% from 1,215 to 1,449 cases, but during the same period the number of rapes decreased significantly by

H. Alizadeh and J. Kohlbacher: Visibility and interactions of immigrant Kurdish women

–8.03%.9 As Kira Kosnick (2019) and Deborah Hellmann, Max Kinninger and Sören Kliem (2018) indicate, male sexual violence against women was already considered common in Germany beforehand. Another possible explanation for this can be ascribed to Vienna’s long experience in gender mainstreaming planning as has been applied since the early 1990s to ensure “fair shares in the city”. This was done through continuously developing innovative planning approaches that account for gender equality in public policy to create positive socio-political change for all citizens. In contrast, Cologne started to implement gender mainstreaming policies by the end of 2004. Cologne is experiencing a discernible practical development that makes the three-step transition from women’s-rights-based planning via gender mainstreaming to equity planning. The latter aims at the perception and consideration of all structural mechanisms of oppression of underrepresented groups and/or minorities in the spatial planning process and, ultimately, to the elimination of such oppression. Pilot projects in Cologne, for example, concern the planning of green spaces, the protection of men and women in public spaces, preventing speeding in traffic or considering juvenile delinquency from a gender perspective (Gwisdalla 2007).

9

See https://koeln.polizei.nrw/sites/default/files/2021-03/k-pks2020-koeln.pdf.

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Table 4: Means and standard deviations of the two variables of the sense of safety factor Aspects of visibility

Measuring item or indicative question

Sense of safety

Cologne (C)

Vienna (V)

Mean

Std. deviation

Mean

Std. deviation

I feel safe to walk alone in my city during the day

3.51

0.603

3.71

0.474

I feel safe to walk alone in my city at night

2.6

0.825

3.09

0.777

Total

3.06

0.575

3.4

0.524

Scoring criteria

1= Completely disagree 2= Disagree 3= Agree 4= Completely agree

Source: own survey 2021.

Meaningful social activities Not only did we ask which types of spaces they used but also how frequently they were actively or passively engaged in social activities in public spaces. These questions enabled us to evaluate the potential of public spaces as venues of visibility and interaction. In a nutshell, Cologne shows slightly better results in the sub-factors than Vienna. Some variables scored better on average, such as shopping (3.55C and 3.46V), visiting friends (3.27C and 3.13V), relaxing and enjoying the sun (3.21C and 3.10V), walking alone (3.16C and 2.89V) and walking with other women (3.05C and 2.97V). These categories can be considered as the most highly motivating factors for visibility and social interaction among Kurdish women in public spaces. Moreover, these results are also consistent with previous discussions in the literature, especially the highest-scoring category of shopping (Sewell 2011; Leach 1984; Abaza 2001; De Koning 2009; Southerton 2011). More importantly, there is a general perception that women articulate their preference for shopping to a greater extent than men do (Haiyan and Jasper 2004, Rappaport 2000). Less-practised social activities include standing/sitting at the children’s playground (2.03C and 1.88V) and making contact with men in public spaces (2.01C and 196V). The first is consistent with the

H. Alizadeh and J. Kohlbacher: Visibility and interactions of immigrant Kurdish women

results discussed earlier, concerning the low frequency of attendance at children’s playgrounds. The latter result is hardly surprising, as this arguably also applies to immigrant women of other ethnic groups as well as women without migration background. Furthermore, the context in some Kurdish families is still determined by patriarchal social structures and related norms, which limit women’s interactions with men beyond kinship ties. It also implies that this practice even determines the social interactions of women in public spaces in the European context, where the values of freedom and gender equality are more respected and encouraged by urban and national policies. A recent study (Kohlbacher and Punz, 2022) on Kurdish entrepreneurship in Vienna also shows that Kurdish women are still subject to certain stricter role models than men in the same diaspora communities. Almost all interviewed women who run their own business reported considerable social barriers on their way to becoming entrepreneurs. After they had successfully proven themselves as entrepreneurs, however, their status improved and they served as role models to other women in the diaspora community.

53

3.16 2.46 2.03 3.21 2.52

Walking alone

Resting on benches and watching the surroundings

Standing or sitting at the children’s playground

Relaxing and enjoying the sun

Walking with my children

Source: own survey 2021.

2.66

Passive

Meaningful social activities

Mean

Cologne (C)

Measuring item or indicative question

Aspects of visibility

0.911

0.557

0.899

0.749

0.54

0.7312

Std. deviation

2.35

3.10

1.88

2.25

2.89

2.50

Mean

Vienna (V)

Table 5: Means and standard deviations of the variables of the meaningful social activities factor

1.116

0.777

1.107

0.907

0.899

0.9612

Std. deviation 1= Never or almost never 2= Rarely 3= Sometimes 4= Often

Scoring criteria

54 In/Visibility of Flight

2.68 2.01 2.3 2.24 3.55 3.05 2.45 3.27 2.39 2.84 2.67

Active

Making contact with men in public spaces

Undertaking diverse joint activities such as walking …

Participating in organized festivals and events

Shopping

Walking with other women

Sitting on benches and talking with other women

Visiting friends

Doing organized work such as reading or writing …

Attending demonstrations in public spaces

Total

Source: own survey 2021.

Meaningful social activities

0.7251

0.994

0.676

0.569

0.808

0.747

0.46

0.744

0.867

0.606

0.719

2.505

2.47

2.07

3.13

2.05

2.97

3.46

2.10

2.37

1.96

2.51

0.8686

0.964

0.797

0.656

0.789

0.726

0.668

0.794

0.852

0.735

0.776

1= Never or almost never 2= Rarely 3= Sometimes 4= Often

H. Alizadeh and J. Kohlbacher: Visibility and interactions of immigrant Kurdish women 55

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Barriers of presence and contact The overall scores in a total of 20 sub-factors associated with the aspect of women’s invisibility in public spaces (see Table 6) reveals a relative similarity between Cologne (3.16) and Vienna (3.09). This aspect of invisibility is defined in the two categories of barriers to presence and barriers to contact in public spaces. Almost all variables in the category barriers to presence display low negative effects on the visibility of women in public spaces in both cities. In this regard, the most positive trend was observed for the variable of restrictions resulting from religion (3.81C and 3.78V). This means that religious beliefs have had the least impact on the visibility of Kurdish women in public spaces. This is consistent with the results of the question How religious are you? in Table 1. Nearly 60 percent of the respondents reported a weak or completely absent sense of belonging to religion. A further significant point concerns the differences in the findings between the case study cities for the three variables of male harassment (3.22C and 3.51V), crime (3.22C and 3.46V), and low-quality public spaces (3.31C and 3.51V). Vienna generally ranked a little better than Cologne in these three variables. This finding confirms the discussion presented before, related to the sense of safety. The average of variables associated with barriers of contact reveals a more positive trend in Cologne (2.81) in comparison to Vienna (2.58). Six of these variables highlight the most important barriers to social contacts of Kurdish women in public spaces. The two variables of different religious attitudes (1.83V and 2.32C), and different levels of education (1.91V and 2.33C) highlight the most marked negative effects on the contact of Kurdish women in public spaces in Vienna. This means that the respondents perceive the religious attitudes and levels of education of others as barriers to their interactions in public spaces. This variable concerns the active visibility of Kurdish women, which is different from the first category (barriers to presence), as the latter generally includes passive means of visibility. In the context of passive visibility, the variables of religion and language were not considered as barriers to presence in the public space. In other words, when the respondents made themselves visible by simply being present in public space, they were confronted with certain barriers to initiating social interaction with others. The negative aspect of religious attitudes is consistent with previous results and discussions, as the respondents do not consider themselves as religious people and thus are not interested in establishing contact with very religious people. One possible explanation for this result might be found in the long-standing clash between Kurdish people

H. Alizadeh and J. Kohlbacher: Visibility and interactions of immigrant Kurdish women

and the Turkish government, which resulted in violent political conflicts between the two ethnic groups as well.10 Many Turkish women publicize their Islamic beliefs through their behavior and dress code (headscarves and anklelength coats) in public space in Germany and Austria—more than immigrants of other nationalities. This, along with the mentality leading to the perceived clashes, affected the respondents to perceive the religious attitudes of others as the most important barrier towards social interactions in public spaces. Considering the level of education as the second important barrier to contact, we need to take a closer look at the socio-demographic characteristics of the sample population. Our data suggest that more than half of the respondents in Vienna have no academic education. In addition to the extent of German language skills, this lower educational background might act as a barrier for immigrant Kurdish women to initiate contact with others in public space. A lower level of education is usually associated with lower self-confidence, less experience of acting in multicultural contexts, and, particularly crucial, weaker foreign-language skills (including German). Unfortunately, the extent of German language skills could not be ascertained in our project. Since the survey was conducted in their first language, good knowledge of German was not a prerequisite for participation. We refrained from self-assessments, as we know from numerous previous surveys in immigrant communities that they are subject to a high degree of uncertainty.

10

https://www.euractiv.com/section/global-europe/news/turkey-austria-trade-barbsover-kurdish-turkish-clashes-in-vienna/

57

3.56 3.59 3.55 3.69 3.81 3.59 3.22 3.22 3.31

Restrictions imposed by family/husband

Shyness

Lack of accessibility

Language barriers

Restrictions resulting from religion

Crowding

Male harassment

Crime

Low quality of public spaces

Source: own survey 2021.

3.51

Barriers to Presence

Barriers of presence and contact

Mean

Cologne (C)

Measuring item or indicative question

Aspects of invisibility

0.468

0.445

0.612

0.51

0.318

0.361

0.517

0.415

0.541

0.314

Std. deviation

3.51

3.46

3.51

3.65

3.78

3.70

3.46

3.68

3.59

3.59

Mean

Vienna (V)

Table 6: Means and standard deviations of the variables of the barriers of presence and contact factor

0.543

0.516

0.517

0.478

0.295

0.368

0.489

0.473

0.539

0.307

Std. deviation 1= Often 2= Sometimes 3= Rarely 4= Never or almost never

Scoring criteria

58 In/Visibility of Flight

2.81 3.5 2.3 2.33 2.37 2.32 2.33 2.32 3.43 3.22 3.45 3.32 3.16

Barriers to Contact

Restrictions imposed by family/husband

Conversational language and interaction with others

Different levels of education

Different modes of behavior

Different religious attitudes

Different child-raising habits

Different modes of interaction in public space

Rejection by others

Fear of contact due to distrust

Social and cultural control by other people

Fear of engaging with gossip

Total

Source: own survey 2021.

Barriers of presence and contact

0.294

0.659

0.623

0.718

0.45

1.069

1.107

1.09

0.914

1.08

1.012

0.6

0.487

3.09

3.25

3.36

2.93

3.17

2.01

2

1.83

2.25

1.91

2.08

3.58

2.58

0.249

0.843

0.702

0.941

0.802

0.958

1.069

1.043

0.947

1.021

1.099

0.693

0.386

1= Very important 2= Rather important 3= Not very important 4= Not at all important

H. Alizadeh and J. Kohlbacher: Visibility and interactions of immigrant Kurdish women 59

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Conclusion This empirical study was conducted in the two European cities of Cologne and Vienna in order to investigate the in/visibility of immigrant Kurdish women in public space with a special focus on the influence of spatial contexts on their social lives and interactions. However, the statelessness of Kurds led to their relative official invisibility within the receiving contexts. This invisibility is also mirrored in the absence of reliable statistical information, as even rough estimates of the population with Kurdish roots are missing in both survey cities. In the case of Kurdish women, the ambivalence between visibility and invisibility is rather complex. A percentage of Kurdish women, which cannot be precisely estimated, arrived in both cities by way of flight, whereas others entered on account of labor migration or family reunification. They are visible in public spaces as women with a migration—and sometimes a refugee—background from the Middle East, but usually not as members of Kurdish diaspora communities. While many of them use public spaces in a rather self-determined way, traditional value systems still determine their behavior and interactions in public space to some extent. The analysis outlined two aspects of visibility and invisibility, five dimensions or factors, and 48 sub-factors or variables. The results highlight an overall positive pattern in the respondents’ perceived visibility as well as in their social interactions in the public spaces of both metropolises. This is consistent with “the arguments emerging from the scholarship on gendered space that have emphasized the importance of public space as the place of power for women’s rights”, where they can test the assertion of their right to a presence in the city (Alizadeh et al. in press). Furthermore, female immigrants can use public spaces to become familiar with the receiving context of the city, and to enrich it with their specific way of life. The findings emphasize the importance of public spaces in the social lives of Kurdish women and, more importantly, highlight the effects of the new socio-spatial context as a ‘resource space’ in which women’s mobility, bodily liberation, self-confidence, empowerment, and social integration are promoted (Alizadeh et al. in press; Schmoll 2019). Apart from an overall similarity in the results in both urban contexts, the most important difference lies in respondents’ perception of safety in public space. The latter varies greatly between day and nighttime: at night, respondents experience a significantly lower sense of safety. Our data also shows that the women in our sample perceived Vienna as relatively safer at night than respondents in Cologne did. Differences could also be detected between open

H. Alizadeh and J. Kohlbacher: Visibility and interactions of immigrant Kurdish women

(rating 3.06 in Cologne and 2.93 in Vienna) and enclosed public spaces (2.42 in Cologne and 2.45 in Vienna). This highlights the importance of open public spaces in Kurdish women’s social lives, which in turn affects their visibility. Within the meaningful social activities factor, the variable ‘shopping’ turned out to be the most frequent activity in both cities. Concerning the range of variables representing invisibility, our data did not reflect significant barriers to the physical presence of Kurdish women in public spaces. However, this primarily concerns the passive variants of presence and visibility in public space. Concerning the active variants of visibility, which also include social interactions with other groups, the pattern is fundamentally different. Thus, the frequency and forms of social interactions diverge. The results confirm the initial hypothesis of the relevance of a political gender mainstreaming approach to the creation of inclusive public spaces. These can motivate urban planners and policy makers to co-create safer public spaces for women in general, and to facilitate the access to safely usable environments. The results may also be helpful to understand the experiences, challenges, and needs of female urban dwellers with an immigrant background in designing and producing safer and more inclusive public spaces. These spaces should be more effective in promoting women’s passive and active visibility, and should be suitable for use by groups of different ethnic and religious backgrounds. Furthermore, these spaces could also be conducive to a broad cultural dialogue in everyday life.

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Ethical reflexivity in qualitative study and participatory research among Afghan refugee women in Munich, Germany Naseem S. Tayebi

Introduction Ethical considerations and reflexivity rank among the main aspects of qualitative and participatory research in practice (Banks and Brydon-Miller 2019; Roth 2005; Roth and von Unger 2018; Von Unger, Dilger, and Schönhuth 2016; von Unger 2021). In this paper, I discuss some of the ethical considerations that proved essential in the preparation for the field work of my qualitative/participatory study with refugee women in Munich, Germany. These ethical challenges increased in the COVID-19 pandemic, as I was confronted with further responsibility for the participants of this study and their additional challenges due to lockdowns and measures under COVID-19. The paper is based on the study for my PhD project on the challenges and experiences of female Afghan refugees in accessing reproductive health care after arriving in Germany and in providing an opportunity for participants to develop their self-help competencies individually and within their communities This approach also intends to facilitate their visibility and social engagement in their new society (Barndt 2014; Fellmeth et al. 2015; Koch and Kralik 2006; Pant 2014). In order to achieve these goals, I applied a feminist theoretical lens to complement participatory action as well as photovoice methods (Naples 2003). Afghans and Syrians constituted an average 40% of the total asylum applicants in Germany between 2011 and 2019, and 55% of total arrivals in 2016 (Eurostat 2018). Increasing numbers of refugee women access maternity care in receiving countries, including high income countries. In Germany, policy and legal frameworks are in place to increase the accessibility of reproductive

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health care services for refugees (Bozorgmehr 2016; Bozorgmehr et al. 2018). Despite these regulations, refugees face numerous challenges to accessing and benefiting from the reproductive health care system in practice (Bozorgmehr et al. 2018). Furthermore, studies indicate that forced migrant women are at risk of invisibility within maternity services, consequently missing valuable maternity care as well as increasing mental health issues during early motherhood. (Fair et al. 2020; Firth and Haith-Cooper2018; Katherine 2020; Phillimore 2015). The project was started by approaching volunteers from the organization Helferkreis1 , who support Afghan refugee families in two different suburbs of Munich, as well as refugee residents themselves, contacted directly and via snowball techniques. I already knew some of the participants from the time when I was translating for them (Farsi to German and vice versa) while accompanying them to health care centers and public authorities since 2015. The participants in the study were 13 women refugees, 22 to 40 years of age, with zero to six children, as well as five German volunteers between 25 and 65 years old. The Afghan refugee women had been living in the suburbs of Munich since 2015, and some had developed close friendships living in camps together for several years. The main reason for interviewing German volunteers was the simple fact that they accompanied the Afghan refugees on various errands, including healthcare centers, so their input was valuable to the perspective of experiences and challenges faced by Afghan women refugees. The research consisted of 18 in-depth interviews as well as field notes and observations. The participatory meetings were held together with nine refugees in the period between December 2019 and June 2020. In the focus groups and participatory meetings, tools such as photovoice—an audio-visual method of data collection in participatory research explained later—were used. The first four participatory meetings were held with four to five participants each. Due to the COVID-19 pandemic, I was obliged to implement certain guidelines during the meetings, such as social distancing and reducing the number of participants in the meetings. Eventually, there was a lockdown in Munich, and I resorted to holding the photovoice via social networks. Ethical considerations are critical in studies of women refugees, since they are a vulnerable group that might suffer from trauma and an unstable legal 1

Helferkreise [“Circles of Helpers”] were founded in Germany in the 1990s with the goal of helping asylum seekers settle into their new neighborhoods. There are “Helferkreis”groups throughout Germany, found in most cities/towns.

Naseem S. Tayebi: Ethical reflexivity in research among Afghan refugee women

status (Clark-Kazak 2017; 2021). In consequence, one of the initial challenges to my empirical project was obtaining ethical approval2 from the Ethical Committee at the Faculty of Medicine, Ludwig Maximilian University of Munich (LMU). This necessary step had a profound effect on me and encouraged me to reflect on my project, minimize any harm to my participants, and remain cautious when entering the research field and data collection. My self-reflection of ethical concerns gave rise to numerous ethical questions in each phase of the research process: Could the questions in my interview guide remind the participants of any bad memories? Is this project beneficial to refugee women? What kind of risks might my study pose for them? Could I treat all participants equally? I kept reviewing my proposal again and again from research questions to study design. I am very grateful for this process in my research, as it helped me to further develop my proposal and study design. There are plentiful issues to consider when conducting research on vulnerable groups and applying a consciously ethical approach in order to minimize any harm to participants (Barkensjö et al. 2018; Clark-Kazak 2021; 2017; Daley 2021). I was fully aware that my participants were at risk of being hurt, and I did not want to remind them of any bad memories and cause mental health issues during data collection. Still, I did not look at my participants as just vulnerable people. These women, in fact, are strong and show considerable resilience in tolerating hard times—from passing the dangerous route and travelling to Europe to settling down in a new country, where they are confronted with various challenges. For this reason, the participants in this study were recognized for their own power and agency, instead of being regarded as members of a vulnerable group. After all, when we describe someone as ‘vulnerable’, we might face the risk of missing to see their power and agency (Banks and Brydon-Miller 2019; Roth and von Unger 2018 ; von Unger 2018). Among the key principles of research on refugees and forced migration are autonomy and partnership (Clark-Kazak, 2021). Autonomy means that refugees have an opportunity to get involved in data collection and have a say in the results of the study. Meanwhile, it is important that the findings of any research are beneficial to participants and their community on advocacy or project level (Clark-Kazak 2021; Jacobsen and Landau 2003).

2

The Faculty of Medicine at the Ludwig Maximilian University requires any research proposal to be reviewed by an Ethical Committee; something that is not mandatory among other faculties or universities in Germany.

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Aside from qualitative research through in-depth interviews, this study is based on participatory research, as this method promotes partnership and collaboration with the potential of empowering and developing ideas and possible solutions (Centre for Social Justice 2022; International Collaboration for Participatory Health Research 2020; Roura et al. 2021; Wallerstein et al. 2017; Wright 2013). The Afghan refugee women were able to share their experiences in participatory meetings, while photovoice enabled them to visualize their challenges and success in receiving reproductive health care services. The research process would eventually help to promote the women’s self-confidence and empower others in their community. Nevertheless, I kept reflecting on each and every interview or participatory meeting to avoid any harm to the participants and prevent my interviews or discussions from going the wrong way and awaking any negative memories. Furthermore, I assembled a list of organizations that support refugees and are specialized in mental health; I also offered the women to contact me whenever they might need extra support.

Presenting informed consent The first ethical challenge of an interview-based project is to ensure the informed consent of the interviewees. In research with refugees, the issue of signing a consent form should be done with consideration; the refugees should sign it voluntarily and should be offered to have an oral agreement alternatively (Clark-Kazak 2017; Roth and von Unger 2018). Before the interviews and meetings started, the participants of the study had received consent forms together with information letters in simple Farsi. Obtaining consent from the participants was much more complex than just handing them a form to sign; it required some time with each participant (Clark-Kazak 2021). As refugees in Germany have to sign a lot of forms during asylum procedures, a consent form might bring back negative memories. Some participants were afraid of signing anything due to their legal status and were worried that their signature might get them in trouble in future asylum procedures. Therefore, I offered them an oral agreement for the interview alternatively. Only five out of thirteen refugee women wanted to sign the informed consent, while the others preferred an oral agreement. In addition, I also gave them an information form that explained the project and the aim of the study in Farsi, as well as an English version to the German helpers. Nevertheless, I explained the in-

Naseem S. Tayebi: Ethical reflexivity in research among Afghan refugee women

formation once again in plain words before each interview just in case they did not understand the details of the study, could not read properly or did not have time to read the information.

Anonymity, privacy and confidentiality Anonymity is yet another important factor that should be taken into consideration. Wolff Michael Roth and Hella von Unger (2018) emphasize that true anonymity is achieved when researchers do not know the identities of the participants. However, von Unger (2021) states that in qualitative studies, the researcher deals with so much detailed information and descriptions of participants that are impractical to erase that it is virtually impossible to accomplish true anonymity (von Unger 2021). Anonymization, on the other hand, is a process that reflects the importance of anonymity in the research process (von Unger 2021). In my study, I used pseudonyms that my participants had chosen themselves. I deleted every private information and address from my transcripts, field notes, and all other written documents pertaining to the participants to ensure that they could not be traced. Still, I tried to keep the participants’ narratives authentic in order to avoid missing the wealth of their data. Although the participants trusted me and talked freely, I repeatedly informed them of the importance of confidentiality in my project and reassured them that their statements and experiences would not be leaked to their friends and neighbors, since the refugee community is tightly knit. I applied numerous methods to ensure the comfort and anonymity of my participants. I repeatedly informed them, for example, that I recorded the meeting to make sure I would not forget anything; nobody but me could access their private data. Privacy and confidentiality were just as important in participatory meetings. Before each group meeting, I emphasized to the women as co-researchers that not only the researcher but also the group members had to keep anything said in the meeting confidential, as the debates often included their stories and private experiences (Banks and Brydon-Miller 2019; Centre for Social Justice 2022).

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The power and position of the researcher and the relationship with participants Positionality and its impact on research is one of the core ethical issues often discussed among scholars (Banks and Brydon-Miller 2019; Clark-Kazak 2021; Harcourt et al. 2022; Naples 2003; von Unger 2021). Awareness of the researcher’s position is essential to marginalized people without the same access to socially privileged resources as researchers (Davis and Vaughan 2019; Naples 2003). I am an Iranian-German midwife researcher and volunteer in Munich. I have been supporting refugees since 2015, working with “Doctors of the World” and as a member of “Helferkreis”. Witnessing the challenges of refugees in various circumstances also affected me personally; in other words, I was also an insider in the study in addition to an academic outsider. I was fortunate enough to communicate with the women refugees in their own first language without needing an interpreter. Moreover, I share the experience of being a migrant in Germany and having experienced the difficulties of accessing the German health care system due to language barriers. Nevertheless, in the eyes of the women refugees, I was most probably still an outsider for several reasons. First of all, I was granted German citizenship, being married to a German physician, so I did not have to face the same challenges in order to stay in Germany. Furthermore, they respected me as an academic. I also adjusted my outer appearance when I entered the field and tried to dress more like women in their community. Even though I wear a headscarf and follow the Islamic dress code, my clothing style has become more westernized. In the course of my data collection, I had the chance to experience various community ceremonies, such as cooking traditional food together, birthday parties of new-born babies, funeral ceremonies, and New Year’s celebrations. In these ceremonies, I learned a lot about my community partners’ rich culture, which also helped me to establish trust and balance the power relations between me as a researcher and them as co-researchers. As my role as an interpreter gave me power, I kept reflecting on my role and position in this research and any involved ethical concerns; on the other hand, translating for them was at least some compensation for their time and effort as my co-researchers. I also made sure that the refugee women did not feel obliged to participate and could refuse to participate or withdraw at any time, if they felt uncomfortable during an interview or participatory meeting.

Naseem S. Tayebi: Ethical reflexivity in research among Afghan refugee women

Being able to witness the women refugees’ private lives and to observe their personal dilemmas was very precious to me and should be kept separate from the research; so, I just keep it as my knowledge and memories in exchange for their trust (Koch et al. 2005; Wallerstein et al. 2017). According to various studies, building trust with refugees is challenging, needs a long time, and is very fragile (Korntheuer, Tayebi, and Habib 2021; Kuusisto et al. 2017). I kept my observations as part of my field notes, as they were closely related to my research, but I did not refer to personal challenges. In general, this information can help to develop adequate questions for any future research. In a nutshell, my position as a friend took precedence over my position as a researcher. My participants felt comfortable during the interviews and participatory meetings and talked freely about their experiences and challenges of accessing reproductive health care during pregnancy and motherhood.

Ethical considerations through participatory and photovoice research Participatory research seeks to promote the agency and power of refugees within their communities (Pincock et al. 2021; Pittaway, Bartolomei, and Hugman 2010). This research aim is not immune to ethical questions, though (Banks and Brydon-Miller 2019; Meredith Minkler et al. 2012; Wallerstein et al. 2017). There are several particular ethical issues to consider in participatory research, such as collaboration and power, boundaries between researcher and community partners, conflict and democratic representation, ownership and dissemination of data, as well as anonymity, privacy and confidentiality (Banks and Brydon-Miller 2019; Israel et al. 2006; Wallerstein et al. 2017). When I processed the participatory research meetings, I kept asking myself: What is my task as a facilitator in the meeting? How can I stay true to my ethical principles in participatory research? What is the best way to collaborate with the participants on the theme of the project? As reproductive health is a sensitive topic in itself, I was not sure how easy it would be for the women to talk about it in a group setting. Another fundamental issue is the balance of power in participatory meetings (Banks and Brydon-Miller 2019; Israel et al. 2006; Koch and Kralik 2006; Wallerstein et al. 2017). I remained vigilant of my role and position in each focus group and participatory meeting, when attempting to encourage the women refugees to participate: Am I an advocate, a researcher or a friend?

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According to Sarah Banks and Mary Brydon-Miller (2019), the researcher as a facilitator should imagine what would happen if the researcher were not present in the participatory meeting. In the meetings, I did my best to facilitate the process of reflection and learning from each other; in other words, my role as a facilitator trumped my role as an advocate or health professional. The following section is from my field notes after a focus group meeting: The involvement of the women was challenging at the beginning. When somebody had a question, often other mothers just looked at me, waiting for my answer, but after a while they started to talk more. They needed time to have the courage to share their own views and answers (field note of first meeting). The position as a facilitator during meetings can be quite challenging. After all, visualizing the voice of mothers should not harm them in their own community. In one of the meetings, for example, it so happened that one of the mothers talked about her experiences during pregnancy and how to get family planning; she explained that she became pregnant right after arriving in Germany. In response, another mother who had not become pregnant in Germany started to mock her as if she could not keep herself being pregnant; when others started laughing as well, I immediately interfered and changed the topic, as I did not want her to feel ashamed or lose her position in the community because of her testimony. Whatever was said or shared during meetings had to remain confidential. Otherwise, the women would not have felt safe to talk about their experiences and stories. As a precaution, I encouraged them to contact me if they had any issues or concerns related to the research and meetings.

Photovoice The technique of photovoice uses photographs made by the participants in order to start a discussion on issues of relevance to them. It is one of the techniques in participatory action research, which has been conducted worldwide in several projects with vulnerable groups as well as in projects on marginalized populations and their public health issues (Brandt et al. 2017; Moffitt and Vollman 2004; Wang and Redwood-Jones 2001; Woodgate, Zurba, and Tennent 2017).

Naseem S. Tayebi: Ethical reflexivity in research among Afghan refugee women

In this study, photovoice was chosen because it acts as a health promotion intervention with the capacity to empower the participant as well as the possibility to enhance health equity for vulnerable groups, such as refugees (McMorrow and Saksena 2021; Wang 1999). Photovoice offered the women refugees a further opportunity, next to oral and written expression, to present themselves and explain experiences with visual aids. It can be an empowering process for the participants and results in images influencing individual and community action (Brandt et al. 2017; Lenette and Boddy 2013; McMorrow and Saksena 2021). In the photovoice process, nine out of thirteen participants were active and involved in deciding on the topics of discussion in the group. In order to prevent any privacy concerns, I gave them guidelines on how to take pictures for the photovoice part of my project: first, do not take pictures of people’s or children’s faces; second, make sure that anyone seen in the photograph gave their consent; otherwise, the photo should be promptly deleted. Third, do not take pictures that might threaten anyone’s well-being and do not violate anyone’s privacy. Furthermore, I explicitly asked those living in a refugee residence to refrain from taking pictures of their refugee camp’s surroundings, for that could cause trouble with the gate keepers. I recommended taking pictures inside their rooms. This approach went hand in hand with a reflective process: they explained why they had chosen a theme, the reason for taking the picture, and where they captured it. For those who could not write properly, it was suggested to record their audio voice in the group and talk about their ideas.

Photovoice through social media Some refugees had to remain in quarantine during COVID-19, while others stayed at home as a precaution—making it impossible to have face-to-face meetings. In an attempt to stay in touch, I created a WhatsApp group with the consent of the women. Nine out of the thirteen participants were active in the group, as they were familiar with the application and were able to share the pictures they had taken and voice their opinions. Those who were not able to write were offered to record their ideas. One participant wished to be separated from the group, so she sent the pictures and opinions to me personally. Her narratives were also included in my data analysis. Flexibility is another key asset when conducting participatory research (Banks and Brydon-Miller 2019), especially considering that this study coin-

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cided with a pandemic. As mentioned before, the main theme of my research was reproductive health among Afghan refugee women and the challenges they face when attempting to access health care services in Munich, Germany. In the beginning of COVID-19, however, I observed that the participants were also concerned about the wellbeing of their families, both in Germany and in Afghanistan. In order to ease their minds, I widened the topic to include the positive aspects of staying at home. I additionally created the theme of photovoice “What makes you feel happy in your home and keeps you and your family healthy in your everyday life?” In spite of the lockdown or quarantine, the women refugees stayed in touch through photovoice, sending positive messages and pictures. Some participants were hospitalized and still took pictures out of hospital windows to share them, so they could get support from the group. Aside from the positive aspects of photovoice via social media in this study, this method also presented some challenges: as the facilitator, for example, I had to keep up the balance of power amongst the women when sharing their photos and their views about the pictures; I had to prevent any embarrassment caused by the reactions of others, especially as in the WhatsApp groups, I was not always able to immediately react due to the non-permanent accessibility of the media and the (im)possibility to comment any time. These ethical issues were more manageable during face-to-face meetings than in online discussions. In the personal meetings, as a facilitator I could observe the reaction of each person and was able to interfere to avoid harm to anyone willing to share her experiences with the group.

Small but powerful participatory meetings Before the COVID-19 pandemic and subsequent lockdowns, I was fortunate enough to conduct three focus group meetings, each with four to five mothers. The restrictions enforced in March 2020 made it difficult to host other meetings. However, the mothers in the project wished to have personal instead of virtual meetings. Due to the trust that was developed in the group, I organized meetings in line with hygienic requirements and health regulations. In consequence, the meetings were held in smaller groups, consisting of the researcher and two or three women refugees as co-researchers, while maintaining safe distance in open air or inside the camp’s rooms with open windows. In spite of partially conducting the meetings in small groups, the women actually fulfilled their role as co-researchers in these participatory meetings,

Naseem S. Tayebi: Ethical reflexivity in research among Afghan refugee women

while I was still able to act as a facilitator in keeping with the principles of participatory research: it was participatory and cooperative, and engaged the participants in a joint co-learning process, in which they were empowered and controlled the topics of discussion (Meredith Minkler et al. 2012; Yelland et al. 2016). These participatory meetings with only two or three co-researchers were very deep and intense and had a great atmosphere for the mothers to share their stories. Moreover, they could also discuss the challenges posed by the pandemic as well as their experiences of getting access to reproductive medical care. Another sensitive topic raised by some women was domestic violence. One co-researcher brought up this issue, and the others had the courage to talk about their experiences. It was very hard for me to listen to their stories and respond in a supporting way. A facilitator should be a listener and not interfere in discussions, but sometimes I rather acted as an advocate and answered their questions. Nevertheless, I often felt that I should have provided better solutions or suggested advice from psychologists in these sensitive issues. The women were very grateful for these meetings and for the opportunity to talk in their own language. As a result, they were strong enough to bring the cases to social workers and German volunteers, and to render visible their harsh experiences, amplified by the COVID -19 pandemic. The reason for the success of these meetings might be the trust and friendship between the participants. The women themselves described their relationship as a sisterhood, since they got to know each other on the long journey to Germany, or when arriving and living in temporary camps together. Personally, I am very grateful. I had the amazing chance to conduct these special meetings with women refugees who were also close friends. Although participatory meetings should have a minimum of five to eight participants according to literature, these tiny groups—created in extraordinary circumstances—enabled the women to discuss issues for the first time that they had not been able to talk about privately, in previous larger groups, or during in-depth interviews. The women refugees expressed that sharing their experiences in these participatory meetings promoted their self-confidence.

Keeping in touch with participants for support in health issues Since I set up the WhatsApp group, six of the thirteen women have been infected with COVID -19; two of them were pregnant and eventually hospitalized

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and quarantined. One of my ethical concerns and care during the lockdown was to keep in touch with my participants, especially those who had health issues. According to Israel et al., the researcher should remain humble and get to know the participant by being present in different occasions rather than just collecting data (Israel et al. 2006). Although I received many distressed phone calls from these mothers, the support of a midwife speaking their language was fundamental. When refugees try to access health and maternity care, they are primarily confronted with the challenge of communication barriers. The situation became even worse after the lockdown, as they were not allowed to bring anyone to the hospital, not even an interpreter. For this reason, I actively supported them by answering their questions and interpreted their visits to health care centers via telephone several times. In summary, the main themes arising from this study were language barriers, a lack of self-confidence when accessing health care, and ultimately satisfying their basic needs. We always ask each other how to get an appointment at the hospital or what the procedure looks like after, or about their doctor’s visit. It feels great to see that you are not the only one with problems. (Masumeh, from field notes of a participatory meeting) The participants as co-researchers reflected on these problems and tried to find possible solutions to overcome their challenges. In the course of the participatory meetings, the women emphasized that they had come to realize the value of sharing experiences and reflection. Knowing they are not alone with their challenges helped them. They learned from each other and found solidarity in these meetings.

Conclusion In this paper, I share the lessons learned from my ethical reflections on qualitative and participatory research as well as photovoice with Afghan refugee women in Munich. Moreover, I discuss the dilemmas I encountered when conducting research during the Covid-19 pandemic. Any research with refugees and forced migrant groups should pay special consideration to minimizing harm and maximizing the benefits of the research project (Clark-Kazak 2017,

Naseem S. Tayebi: Ethical reflexivity in research among Afghan refugee women

2021). Students and social workers or interpreters involved with such research should receive special ethical training (Clark-Kazak 2021). Throughout this study, I remained aware of such ethical considerations as the manner of entering the field, presenting the consent letters, and conducting interviews in order to avoid causing any additional harm to the participants. While conducting participatory research and photovoice, the COVID-19 pandemic resulted in additional ethical challenges, such as recruiting and keeping in touch with my participantsor keeping up the balance of power. Moreover, I paid special care to realize the ethical goal of empowerment and health promotion with regard to the participants—individually and in their community (Banks and Brydon-Miller 2019; Brydon-Miller 2012). Unfortunately, the pandemic sabotaged my plans of making the stories of the women refugees more visible by displaying their pictures in a public exhibition. The women refugees who participated in the photovoice group emphasized that they enjoyed taking pictures and sharing them on social media, especially during the hardship of quarantine. It proved to be a good support tool and facilitated learning from each other. Although the pandemic posed unexpected ethical issues and required extra flexibility from my participatory research, the smaller yet very successful participatory meetings promoted solidarity between the women and improved not only their health but also the visibility of their stories. I am particularly grateful to the women refugees who were actively involved in this study.

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Blurred vision: potential and challenges of co-creation approaches for migrants’ visibility Lydia Rössl, Federica Zardo, and Christina Khoury

Introduction Political science and migration scholars agree on the importance of involving migrants and minority groups in research. Participatory approaches in the field are not only relevant because they lead to more innovative and creative ideas (Apers et al. 2021), but also because they foster reflexivity and unpack assumptions on vulnerability and agency (Zardo and Wolff 2022). The increasing European Commission’s support—through the Horizon 2020 and Horizon Europe programmes among others—also confirm the policy and societal relevance of collaborative and participatory research (Owen 2021, 5). A key criterion for success is the consideration of “[...] engagement of citizens, civil society and end users as an evaluated part of the methodology under the excellence criterion of the proposal assessment.” (Owen 2021, 10–11). As recently highlighted by Hanne Apers, Lena Richter, and Lore Van Praag (2021), however, migrants participate less in participatory research than other groups. This chapter addresses the issue of participatory methods, in particular of co-creation, in migration research through the lens of in/visibility. Our goal is to understand how co-creation can affect migrants’ visibility and invisibility and, therefore, how it can impact on research outcomes. We understand (in)visibility as a concept that “lies at the intersection between the two domains of aesthetics (relations of perceptions) and politics (relations of power)” (Brighenti 2007, 324) and helps investigating how processes of racialization and practices of “othering” come about and manifest themselves. It raises the question of self- and external representation, of the mechanisms of visualization and representation, of active and passive roles in these processes, and thus also of power relations.

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Refugees as a highly vulnerable group are to a large extent the target of media and political visualizations, as well as of societal perceptions and interpretations. In their analysis of news images of the refugee crisis from 2014 to 2016, Lilie Chouliaraki and Tijana Stolic illustrate how images communicate the need for hospitality rather than threat. Examples are pictures and verbal representations of mass demonstrations for the admission of refugees and against political measures of migration control. While they symbolize civil resistance against those in power (Chouliaraki and Stolic 2017, 1169–1170), they are inherently narcissistic in that they focus on the “European self” and frame our understanding of suffering and vulnerability. As a socially constructed category, (in)visibility is influenced by the legal framework of national migration and integration policies, which determine migrants’ mobility, legal status, social environment and access to the labor market, income, health care facilities, etc. A focus on (in)visibility thus unveils these mechanisms and power relationships. It uncovers who is “in the position to observe and label someone as different or similar, and who are the objects of observing and labelling” (Leinonen and Toivanen 2014, 164). At the same time, migrants also create spaces for visibility (Lakraa 2017, 5–6). They can, at least to a certain degree, contest or downplay the identities imposed on them or use them to their advantage, but also reinforce existing bordering practices (Georgiou 2018). Certain kinds of (in)visibilities can be performed through more traditional tools such as social media (Georgiou 2018), but also using public spaces (Saint-Blancat and Cancellieri 2014). In line with the reflexive turn in migration studies (Amelina 2021; Dahinden, Fischer, and Menet 2021) we consider researchers not as outsiders, but as part of the migration governance system. Research produces knowledge, which relies on assumptions and produces representations. As such, knowledge can be used to reinforce existing (in)visibilities or challenge them. Migrants’ active participation and self-representation is increasingly demanded in science and policy creation as part of a process of recognition of the limits of science-policy interaction so far (Kleinschmit et al. 2018, 8; Fischer 2009). The involvement and participation of scientists as experts in policy development processes carries the risk that experts exceed the limits of their competencies (Nowotny 2003, 152) or that extensive studies are deliberately or unintentionally reproduced in a wrong context with the aim of bringing results closer to a broad audience. Knowledge exchange, co-creation, science informed policy creation, trans- and multidisciplinary approaches mirror the increased awareness of the value of collaboration between academia,

L. Rössl, F. Zardo, and C. Khoury: Co-creation approaches for migrants’ visibility

industry, government and societal partners (often named as quadruple helix communities) (Stier and Smit 2021, 2). While the positive impact of participatory and co-creative approaches on migrants’ (in)visibilities is a quite straightforward intuition, studies have highlighted how this result depends on the level of capacity of the involved community, the timing and method of involvement (Turin et al. 2021). Indeed, barriers to empowerment and inclusion can be at work during participatory research as well (Van Praag 2021, 285). This is because the relationship between power and (in)visibility is a complex one. In her analyses of the United States, bell hooks points to the risks related to the “hypervisibility” of racialized groups as cultural and racial stereotypes and their simultaneous invisibility and “powerlessness” in society and culture (hooks 1989). In other words, the physical visibility of migrant/minority bodies can result in structural invisibility and inability to influence stereotypes and representations. This raises questions about the appropriate methodological approaches as well as on the importance of critically evaluating them. Our chapter explores the potential and challenges of co-creation for the (in)visibility of (im)migrants, and especially of refugees and asylum seekers. The empirical analysis is based on the H2020 easyRights project, which aims at co-creating technological solutions for migrants’ access to public services. In the following section, we elaborate on the term co-creation and discuss its conceptualization in the easyRights context. We also further link co-creation methods to migrants’ (in)visibilities. Subsequently, we present concrete fields of application, the possible added value and problems in the practical implementation based on the easyRights project. The final section summarizes the challenges and potentials of co-creation approaches for the (in)visibility of refugees in migration and integration projects and reflects on possible avenues for research in the field.

Co-creation approaches in the easyRights project Co-creation approaches originate in 1970s in the realm of products’ design and development. Consequently, research on human-centered design results from the interaction between user-centered design (passive user as subject, US-driven) and the participatory approach (the user as partner, originated in the Northern European countries). Even if the original focus of participatory design is on product development (Sanders and Stappers 2008, 5–6), its evo-

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lution differs considerably from user-centered design. Design of computer systems became, indeed, the main domain of application. Social responsibility (CPSR-Computing professionals for social responsibility) participatory design then expanded the focus to the “[...] active involvement of workplace practitioners in design and decision-making processes” (Sanoff 2006, 132). In the following sections, we first discuss the concept of co-creation and its definition in the easyRights context, before illustrating how this has been embedded in the different phases of service creation for migrants during the project implementation.

Co-creation between participation, visibility and empowerment Like in participatory design, co-creation approaches can be applied to different (scientific) disciplines such as economics and business, public policy and policy studies more generally. The term, however, remains rather elusive (Ramaswamy and Ozcan 2018, 196; van Dijk-de Vries et al. 2020, 2). According to its original meaning co-creation can be defined as the “[…] activities of individuals/consumers/users in the production domain, generated independently or at the behest of producer organizations.” (Zwass 2014, 12). Elizabeth Sanders and Pieter Stappers (2008, 6) rather define cocreation and co-design very broadly and refer to it as “[…] any act of collective creativity, […] as it is applied across the whole span of a design process.”. Co-creation and participatory research in social sciences originate in the anthropological efforts to understand the “native voice” (Malinowski 1922) through ethnographic work and participant observation. Although active participation and empowerment are repeatedly mentioned as part of co-creation processes (e.g. Barile et al. 2021; Moretta Tartaglione et al. 2018; Füller et al. 2014), little research is available on the concrete relations between co-creation and empowerment and a corresponding theoretical basis is missing. Suyeon Jo and Tina Nabatchi (2018) refer to the work of Marc Zimmerman (2000) who distinguishes between “Empowering” Processes and “Empowered” Outcomes on three different levels of analysis, namely individual, group and community (Jo and Nabatchi 2018, 233; Zimmerman 2000, 47–48). Empowerment at the individual level of analysis involves psychological empowerment, including self-confidence regarding one’s own competences. At a group level, empowering means understanding the sociopolitical environment and striving to pursue control. Community comes to play when skills must be acquired through participation in organizations and

L. Rössl, F. Zardo, and C. Khoury: Co-creation approaches for migrants’ visibility

diverse activities (in collaboration with others), such as managing resources, collaborating with others, and making decisions (Zimmerman 2000, 46). All these steps form the empowering process. Possible outcomes of such processes are a sense of control, critical awareness and participatory behaviour (Zimmerman 2000, 47). According to this conceptualization of co-creation, these approaches can provide a framework for experiencing empowerment and thus gaining control over one’s own representation and (in)visibility. Part of the challenge of applying participatory approaches to the realm of migration lies in the highly asymmetrical relations of power among the actors involved in the process. Co-creation can reduce these asymmetries or enhance them. How and under which conditions co-creation approaches do enable empowerment and affect (in)invisibilities is the research question of our analysis in the context of the easyRights project. For this purpose, we mostly rely on Zimmerman’s (2000) individual level of analysis and look at how co-creation played out during the different phases of the project. As highlighted above, our understanding of (in)visibility encompasses participation to include representations of key concepts such as integration or vulnerability. How and during which phase did co-creation as applied in the easyRights project allow migrants’ to (re)gain control over the representations of their migration and integration processes, and of their vulnerability in accessing public services? How did data collection as well as data processing and analysis take (in)visibility into account? What “migrants’ views” did co-creation approaches make (in)visible? After describing the structure of the project in the following section, the subsequent section engages with these questions and provides an analysis of easyRights interim results.

The easyRights project—enabling (im)migrants to easily know and exercise their rights The easyRights project—which is used here as an example for the different methods that can be assigned to a co-creation process—is one of six projects funded by the Migration-06 Call: Addressing the challenge of migrant integration through ICT-enabled solutions.1 It started in January 2020 and, at the time of writing this chapter, its activities are still ongoing; they will be completed by the end of 2022. Its structure can be presented only in a very abbreviated form 1

https://ec.europa.eu/info/funding-tenders/opportunities/portal/screen/opportunitie s/topic-details/dt-migration-06-2018-2019 [09.02.2022]

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in this contribution with a focus on the application of co-creation methods. The easyRights project pursues the overall goal of using intelligent technologies to facilitate migrants’ understanding of and access to the public (welfare) services and rights to which they are entitled. To this end, the project is personalizing and contextualising existing (digital) public services such as the delivery of residence permits, reception and processing of asylum applications, job search or permissions for urban mobility. The beneficiaries of the improved services are migrants as well as the operators of the public services. In this context, participation and empowerment should lead to a higher degree of autonomy of migrants’ groups “making them more autonomous—at least to some extent—from discretionary street-level bureaucracies and the administrative system as a whole” (Concilio et al. 2022, 5). In the framework of public services’ provisions, actors’ empowerment and a representation of the problem at stake that takes into account the users’ views and understandings are particularly important. Service provision is, indeed, “immersed in a system of norms and rules that regulate the relations between people and institutions. Most of these norms and rules are taken for granted by autochthonous citizens, while […] this is not the case for immigrants” (Concilio et al. 2022, 3). Four pilot cities, namely Birmingham, Larissa, Palermo, and Málaga selected two integration-related services as test cases for the implementation of the project. The main strategy and methodology to achieve the objectives is the development of a multi-level co-creation ecosystem involving project partners’ institutions, local (governmental) service providers, local NGOs, migrants’ organisations and innovation teams. The process followed what is known as the Quadruple Helix approach, according to which resources from four helixes are to be integrated: the public sector (national and/or local government), the academic sector, the private sector, and the civil society sector (Carayannis and Campbell 2009, 218–221). In line with the model and to pursue co-creation, the pilot ecosystems have initiated a joint learning process on the provision of public services to migrants, the challenges encountered in entering the integration system and the impact that these might have on integration (Concilio, Karimi, and Rössl 2021, 6–7; Concilio et al. 2022, 5–6; easyRights D5.1 2021 and D5.2 2021). The main assumption of the project is that the dense and diverse network created and strengthened through the project, the nature, and the frequency of the exchange between the actors’ involved communication and engaged in efforts to reach a common goal (Stier and Smit 2021, 4) could empower migrants’, unveil invisible needs, unpack established perspectives, deconstruct representations and hyper-visible categorisations.

L. Rössl, F. Zardo, and C. Khoury: Co-creation approaches for migrants’ visibility

The different ecosystems represent levels of governance and action of the project: • • •

the project level, wherein actors are the project partners, other related projects and initiatives and international (im)migration communities. the service level, involving the users, the service owners, service support organizations and public administration. the hackathon ecosystems, which include designers, ICT developers and representatives of users’ communities. The ecosystems are interrelated and interact with each other (Concilio, Karimi, and Rössl 2021, 8).

Our analysis below (section 3) describes how co-creation played out within and across different ecosystems and where processes of construction and de-construction of (in)visibilities took place. While the pilot owners drive the development of the ecosystems, the ecosystems influence the pilot sites on societal (civic and legal), organizational (public administration), and behavioural (individual migrants related) levels (Concilio, Karimi, and Rössl 2021, 13, 21; Concilio et al. 2022, 10–11). The easyRights Quadruple Helix ecosystems are–to put it simply–learning networks, characterized by networking, communication and learning mechanisms of the different actors. However, they are not just relational systems. The project and especially the pilot activities in the four cities are intended to support the development of a shared identity of persons and institutions engaging in a collective learning process and sharing common goals and a vision related to the easyRights project. The precondition for a reciprocal relationship between ecosystems and pilot sites is a learning and reflectiondriven exchange that leads to the production of knowledge and innovation. As Robert Arnkil et al. (2010,14) state: “Knowledge creation is now trans-disciplinary, more reflexive, non-linear, complex and hybridized.” The easyRights project conceptually follows the triple loop learning approach, which is a process of learning and reflection in organizations that increases in complexity. Starting from a process that identifies errors but does not question existing policies or objectives (single loop) (Argyris and Schön 1978, 2), the double loop already reflects “[...] underlying norms, policies and objectives” (Argyris and Schön 1978, 3). In triple loop learning, new learning structures and strategies are developed based on previous learning processes. Triple loop learning thus has a transformative power that can also have a sus-

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tainable effect. (Romme and van Witteloostuijn 1999, 439–440).2 This complex learning process, we hypothesize, can affect migrants’ (in)visibilities. The more the ecosystems are interconnected and the more the governance networks are decentralized, the more we expect to find “migrants voices” and processes of empowerment in action. Formative and summative evaluation are also part and parcel of the project rationale and of the triple-loop learning approach. Evaluation enables and substantiates the process of learning and reflection on the (interim) results under critical scrutiny with the involvement of different actors. It may trigger adaptations and changes at different project stages, if necessary (Concilio, Karimi, and Rössl 2021, 17–18).

Blurred (in)visibilities in services integration: the challenges of project implementation This chapter, however, does not address the participation of migrants in the service design process, which was carried out using quantitative and qualitative methods in connection with the hackathons, as well as in the context of the user tests of the services and can be read comprehensively in the project deliverables D2.1 Report on Pilot Co-creation and Governance Activities 1, D3.2 First Hackathon Report, D3.3 Second Hackathon Report, D4.1 Requirement Analysis and the article by Grazia Concilio et al. (2022). The emphasis is on the subsequent process: the integration and implementation of the services in the pilot cities Birmingham, Palermo, Larissa and Málaga. This step is crucial for the sustainable success of the project: the (successful) implementation at a later stage enables further conclusions to be drawn as to whether the development of the easyRights services could sufficiently integrate the target groups in the co-creation process to identify the needs and demands, whether the design of the easyRights tools could be adequately personalized and contextualized, but also to what extent the implementation and dissemination was successfully accomplished. The successful accomplishment is understood here as a continuation of the co-creation process and therefore, as dependent from the involvement of the subsequent users, which can also ensure acceptance and targeted dissemination.

2

Further details on the triple loop learning concept in the easyRights project can be found in Concilio, Karimi, and Rössl (2021).

L. Rössl, F. Zardo, and C. Khoury: Co-creation approaches for migrants’ visibility

Both hackathon rounds were completed at the time of writing this text, and the further integration and implementation of the services was in process. The data assessment of the institutional support networks for services integration and implementation started in June 2021 and was completed by January 2022, after two years of project duration. At the time, service implementation was still in an early stage of realization. As a result, this article must therefore be limited to specific sections of the project and makes no claim to be exhaustive. This is problematic due to the comprehensive co-creation approach of the easyRights project, which requires a holistic view including the interrelationships of the project processes. However, such a reflection at this point in time is in the sense of the project’s evaluation approach and the intended ongoing learning processes of the actors.

The institutional support networks for service design and integration The survey of the actors who support the integration and implementation of the easyRights solutions in different ways was conducted by assessing the support networks using Robert Kahn and Toni Antonucci’s (1980, 1984) model of the “support convoy”. For data assessment, the authors’ concentric circles diagram and the hierarchical mapping technique for visualization and data collection was applied. The pilot owners reported through interviews and questionnaires how the support network was arranged in radii around ego (the pilot owner). Every circle represents the closeness of the network members to the respondent, and role for the integration and implementation of the easyRights solutions: • • •

Inner circle: ongoing, sustainable support—also relevant in the future. Without those the dissemination and application is not feasible. Middle circle: temporary relevant role for a special demand in a current project sequence. Outer circle: actors having a role in the support network but cannot be assigned to the inner or middle circle (mostly one-dimensional support).

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Figure 1: Concentric circle diagram (based on Kahn and Antunucci, 1980, 1984).

Thus, the networks formed in this manner were to be documented in terms of their composition and development in the course of the project. This survey of institutional networks indicates that all pilots had a significant representation of migrants/charity institutions. The distribution of network actors summarized below focuses on migrant organisations that represent migrants or provide specific services for migrants. The goal of this description is to illustrate their representation, support and role in integrating and implementing the easyRights solutions into the pilots’ network, therefore, the information has no claim to completeness. The easyRights deliverable 5.4: Institutional Sustainability Assessment (2022) contains additional information on the complex pilots’ networks.

L. Rössl, F. Zardo, and C. Khoury: Co-creation approaches for migrants’ visibility

The tables positioned at the beginning of the respective service descriptions give an overview of • • • •

the selected services that are to be supplemented by the easyRights solutions and whose access is to be faciliated, the providers of these services, those institutions that implement and disseminate the easyRights solutions, the actors according to their position in the support network.

This distinction (between the service providers and providers of the easyRights solutions) is important because the easyRights solutions are intended to improve access to these services for migrants. To achieve this, close cooperation with the service providers is essential. Ideally, the service providers and easyRights solution providers coincide, which would provide an optimal framework for integration into existing services or for linking them.

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Birmingham

Table 1: Summary of services, providers of services and easyRights solutions, needs and stakeholders of the support network according to their county affiliation for the pilot in Birmingham. Services

Service providers

Needs

Clean Air Zone (CAZ)

Service provider: Birmingham City Council (BCC) Provider of the easyRights solution: Birmingham City Council (BCC)

Supporting (im)migrants to check if their vehicle is compliant with the CAZ (Clean Air Zone) and raise awareness on the topic. Assisting (im)migrants to understand the rules and instructions for CAZ.

ESOL (English for speakers of other languages) courses

Service provider: Birmingham City Council (BCC) Provider of the easyRights solution: Birmingham City Council (BCC)

Supporting (im)migrants to access, register and complete ESOL (English for speakers of other languages) courses.

Actors of the inner circle

Actors of the middle circle

Actors of the outer circle

Inner institutional actors: Clean Air Zone Team, Corporate Communications, Travel Demand Management Team, Information Technology and Digital Services, Transport Department Gov. educational institutes: Birmingham Adult Education Service (BAES), Brasshouse (main language centre) NGOs: Sparkhill Learning Centre, Saltley Learning Centre, St. Chads Sanctuary, Empowering People in Change, Dolphin Centre, Sustrans, ISRA, St. Margarets Church

NGOs: Entraide UK, Muslim Network Organisation, Migrant Help Gov. educational institutes: South and City College Birmingham, Fircroft College

Individuals: community lead persons in the charity organisations mentioned in the other circles, active residents in the communities

L. Rössl, F. Zardo, and C. Khoury: Co-creation approaches for migrants’ visibility

Birmingham identified 24 stakeholders in total that support the integration and implementation of the digital easyRights solution in the above services. Birmingham City Council (BCC) coordinates and networks with the following actors to achieve the overall aim. In the inner circle, apart from the cooperation with different BCC departments that have a significant role in providing insights, solutions, documentation and support such as Clean Air Zone team, corporate communications, travel demand management team, information technology and digital services and transport department, two other governmental educational institutes were named: the Birmingham Adult Education Service (BAES), and Brasshouse (main language centre) both providing English for speakers of other languages (ESOL) courses. Sparkhill Learning Centre, the Saltley Learning Centre, and St. Chads Sanctuary are three further NGOs that offer ESOL (English for speakers of other languages) courses to migrants, refugees, and asylum seekers. Empowering People in Change and the Dolphin Centre offer trainings and support to find employment, Dolphin also offers ESOL courses and Clean Air Zone (CAZ) awareness raising. The activities of the organisations vary, they work with migrants (1st and 2nd generation), refugees, and asylum seekers. The NGO Sustrans supports the recruitment of ’Clean Air Champions’ which shall disseminate information on the CAZ service in the communities; ISRA NGO does consultation interviews with the named groups, and St. Margarets Church provides contact with the target groups. Their support and cooperation are expected to be sustainable and extend beyond the project duration. In the middle circle various NGOs were allocated (Entraide UK, Muslim Network Organisation, and Migrant Help) which provide support to migrants, refugees and asylum seekers. Furthermore, the South and City College Birmingham and Fircroft College are also middle circle governmental educational institutes that offer ESOL classes. In the outer circle, that provides (mostly one-dimensional) support, all the community lead persons in the charity organisations mentioned previously, as well as active residents in the community were located. Given the fact that the last named do not work for a specific organisation, they were not visualized in the network analysis but only mentioned in the descriptive part. In comparison to the other networks, the Birmingham support network includes a high number of migrants’ organisations that facilitates interaction with and inclusion of migrants in the CAZ project and furthermore, serve as representatives. This network illustrates the participation of migrants (1st and 2nd generation), refugees and asylum seekers best in comparison with

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the other networks, owing to the high level of participation of the mentioned institutions in the inner circle. This also implies a sustained cooperation between the actors, which according to Zimmerman (2000) can make a positive contribution to an empowering process and outcomes.

Larissa Table 2: Summary of services, providers of services and easyRights solutions, needs and stakeholders of the support network according to their county affiliation for the pilot in Larissa. Services

Service providers

Residence Permit

Service provider: Municipality of LarissaMunicipal Registry Office Service Provider of the easyRights solution: Municipality of Larissa

Certification of Birth

Service provider: Municipality of Larissa- Department of Social Services Provider of the easyRights solution: Municipality of Larissa

Needs Easing the handling of the processes and assist asylum seekers to obtain the needed documents.

Actors of the inner circle Gov. institutions: Municipality's Registry Office, ICT Department, Municipal Department of Social Services

Actors of the middle circle

Actors of the outer circle

Gov. institutions: DIKEL (Dimotiki Kinofelis Epichirissi Lagada, a Municipal Company), Koutsochero Camp Administration, Ministry of Migration and Asylum UN nations agency: International Organisation for Migration (IOM) NGO: the Danish Refugee Council

Gov. institution: Decentralised Administration of Thessaly NGOs: Immigrant and Refugee Integration Council, Terre des hommes

L. Rössl, F. Zardo, and C. Khoury: Co-creation approaches for migrants’ visibility

The Municipality of Larissa is the service provider in Larissa, providing the two services selected for the easyRights project, namely the issuance of the residence permit and the birth certificate. Their goal is to ease the handling of the processes and assist asylum seekers to obtain the latter documents. The total number of stakeholders identified were 11 . In the inner support circle only governmental institutions were named, (Municipality’s Registry Office, ICT Department, and the Municipal Department of Social Services), which offer services that are relevant to but not exclusive to migrants. Therefore, no organisation with representative functions for migrants is expected to be a sustainable partner for the easyRights’ digital services, as the structure is very much government centric. In the middle circle three other governmental institutes were named, DIKEL (a Municipal Company), which addresses a broad group of people through its initiatives and infrastructure for (re)integration into social and economic development, and the Koutsochero Camp Administration, which offers a variety of services to refugees. Finally, the Ministry of Migration and Asylum, which is mainly responsible for policy provision. Furthermore, the UN agency International Organisation for Migration (IOM) and the NGO Danish Refugee Council are listed in the middle circle: both are involved in the administrative and financial management of the Koutsohero Refugee Camp. The outer circle is composed of the organisations that have close contact with refugees, are aware of their needs, and initiate action to strengthen their integration into local communities: One of those organisations is The Immigrant and Refugee Integration Council. In the future the organisation shall act as a consultant using the easyRights tools. One further NGO, Terre des hommes, provides child protection case management services. Finally, the Decentralised Administration of Thessaly, situated in the outer circle, is responsible for a large proportion of the paperwork related to migrants and the naturalization procedure. Since a valid residence permit is a prerequisite for citizenship, the Municipality and the Decentralised Administration of Thessaly cooperate in these matters. The Larrissa support network is characterized by the involvement of migrant organizations, which is limited in time and defined according to the support provided. Representative activities in the sense of the target groups in the context of the integration and implementation of the easyRights tools cannot be concluded on this data basis.

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Palermo Table 3: Summary of services, providers of services and easyRights solutions, needs and stakeholders of the support network according to their county affiliation for the pilot in Palermo. Services

Service providers

Residence Permit

Service provider: Municipality of LarissaMunicipal Registry Office Service Provider of the easyRights solution: Municipality of Larissa

Certification of Birth

Service provider: Municipality of Larissa- Department of Social Services Provider of the easyRights solution: Municipality of Larissa

Needs Easing the handling of the processes and assist asylum seekers to obtain the needed documents.

Actors of the inner circle Gov. institutions: Municipality's Registry Office, ICT Department, Municipal Department of Social Services

Actors of the middle circle

Actors of the outer circle

Gov. institutions: DIKEL (Dimotiki Kinofelis Epichirissi Lagada, a Municipal Company), Koutsochero Camp Administration, Ministry of Migration and Asylum UN nations agency: International Organisation for Migration (IOM) NGO: the Danish Refugee Council

Gov. institution: Decentralised Administration of Thessaly NGOs: Immigrant and Refugee Integration Council, Terre des hommes

Palermo’s support network shows a similar diversity in the inner circle as is the case with Birmingham, but with a predominance of NGOs providing service-related activities. The total number of stakeholders is also 24. Again, the

L. Rössl, F. Zardo, and C. Khoury: Co-creation approaches for migrants’ visibility

Municipality (of Palermo) is the service provider and offers a variety of services, but the two main services in relation to easyRights are the registration at the registry office to obtain the residence permit and job seeking support and orientation. Additionally, it serves as a network hub where it actively engages and fosters collaboration with the SAI system (System of Accommodation and Integration) reception centres network (governmental, integration and reception, integration of unaccompanied minors, support in administrative processes) system. In the inner circle, eleven actors were identified, two of which are governmental institutes: Centri di Accoglienza Straordinaria—CAS (Extraordinary Reception Centre) is a governmental reception centre (Reception of adult asylum seekers), and SAI reception centers network. Furthermore, five NGOs are in the inner circle: CLEDU (Clinica Legale per I Diritti Umani)—Legal Clinic for Human Rights of the University of Palermo, provides legal assistance to migrants, and Sportello Sans Papier offers consultation to undocumented migrants. The remaining three NGOs are classified as migrant associations (Giocherenda, Stravox, and Gambian associations), as they consist of migrants and facilitate communication with migrant communities. Moreover, three job agencies (private companies) SEND, Asterisco, and EverGreen, also located within the inner circle, offer job orientation and internships to migrants. Finally, a civil society organisation, Legal Guardians of MSNA (mentors of migrant adults), supports unaccompanied minors in the inclusion process. The support functions of the named organisations in the inner circle are primarily focused on establishing contact with migrants, refugees and asylum seekers for the purpose of data collection (definition of the challenge, demand and needs) and, later, implementing the IT service. In the middle circle, among ten mentioned actors, one is a governmental entity, namely the Employment Centre. Four are social enterprises (Moltivolti, Bisso Bistrot, Thomas More Social Cooperative and Galileo Garden) due to their planned involvement in the implementation of the IT solutions and five are NGOs: CESIE (Centro Studi e Iniziative Europeo), Itastra (Italian Language School) and Per Esempio organise workshops and activities with migrants and two (Centro Penc—Anthropology and Geoclinical Psychology, and Fondazione Cariplo) engage with migrants on a daily basis (social solidarity and mental care). These organisations are mainly relevant due to their support of the dissemination of the easyRights services. Finally, the three institutions located in the outer circle (the governmental Ministry of Labor and Social Policies, and two private companies Clicklavoro and Silavora) provide assistance and information on employment and le-

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gal matters. They shall be involved in the future for the implementation of the ICT services.

Málaga

Table 4: Summary of services, providers of services and easyRights solutions, needs and stakeholders of the support network according to their county affiliation for the pilot in Málaga. Services Asylum Registration

Service Provider

Needs

Service provider: Policía Nacional Provider of the easyRights solution: Christar

Improvement of the access to relevant information regarding the pathway to asylum.

Guide to Em- Service ployment Provider: Cruz Roja (Red Cross) of Málaga Provider of the easyRights solutions: Christar

Supporting the access to relevant information regarding employment and obtaining the red/yellow card.

Actors of the inner circle

Actors of the Actors of the middle circle outer circle

Gov. institution: National Police NGOs: Red Cross and CEAR (Comisión Española de Ayuda Al Refugiado), Centro Luz, Diez 42

Private companies/tools: The EU Skills Profile Tool, Employment Facebook groups Gov. institutions: City of Málaga

Gov. institution: Department of Employment (Oficina de Empleo) Private organisation: Info Jobs

Christar, which is the only non-governmental service provider among the pilots, provides easyRights solutions related to two services: (1) Asylum registration: The easyRights solution eases the access to relevant information regarding the pathway to asylum.

L. Rössl, F. Zardo, and C. Khoury: Co-creation approaches for migrants’ visibility

(2) Guide to employment: Here the easyRights solution provides access to relevant information regarding employment and obtaining the red/yellow card.

Málaga identified ten stakeholders in total. The inner circle is dominated by NGOs with a high variety of services and contact points to migrants. (Red Cross and CEAR (Comisión Española de Ayuda Al Refugiado)). Services comprehend housing, transportation, stipends, Spanish classes and legal assistance. They mainly offered the access to information, data and resource for the easyRights project. The two named local NGOs (Centro Luz and Diez 42) offer a wide range of services including food distribution, Spanish and English classes, community events, after school programs, computer classes, job training and co-ops. They supported the easyRights project in the data assessment and shall disseminate information about the easyRights services in the future. Finally, the National Police offers initial processing of asylum applicants. In the middle circle two private companies are named (The EU Skills Profile Tool and Employment Facebook groups), which offer IT tools, but are not directly involved with the easyRights project and migrants. Furthermore, the city of Málaga is mentioned, which agreed to support the project and dissemination of easyRights tools. In the outer circle, two actors were identified, one is the governmental Department of Employment (Oficina de Empleo), which offers services including job training and placement services. It supported the easyRights project with time and resources (interviews, data and information regarding the services they provide). The other is a private organisation (Info Jobs) that supports migrants in employment search. Subsequently, in the case of Málaga, the composition of actors in the different circles is rather homogeneous. The above network analysis shows that, in most cases, the easyRights solutions are likely to be supported in the long run by the involved institutions, although to different degrees. The composition of actors in some inner circles demonstrates that the intra-organisational network is an essential prerequisite for the successful integration of the hackathon services in the organisational infrastructure and further implementation. The vital role of NGOs and private companies is also reflected in the other pilots’ network. Despite the diversity in actors involved in providing services, NGOs working directly with migrants have a high significance for the successful dissemination. Significant differences emerge among the service providers in the inclusion of migrant organizations and NGOs that offer their services with and for mi-

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grants, in terms of their positioning in the different support networks. The governmental service provider municipality of Palermo and the Birmingham city council as well as the NGO Christar located various organizations with before named characteristics in the inner circle and thus assume a continuing cooperation with these institutions. The municipality of Larissa, on the other hand, does not name any corresponding organizations in the inner circle, but shows a strong focus on governmental organizations. The further impact of this different composition of actors for the sustainable implementation of the easyRights hackathon solutions cannot yet be determined, but should this composition remain, at least in the case of the service providers Christar, Birmingham City Council and the Municipality of Palermo, a successful continuation of the co-creation process can be hoped for in terms of further collaboration, exchange of resources and expansion of the competencies of the actors involved. The overall results presented demonstrate the importance of contextuality, which is relevant for the networks’ composition and roles of the actors involved. Thus, again, hardly any generalised statements can be made.

Conclusions and discussion The design of the easyRights project, the comprehensively applied co-creation approach, embedded in an interaction and learning network, as well as the diverse methods that have been used for this purpose, such as interviews, focus groups, workshops, questionnaire surveys and the hackathons, opened some room for migrants’ involvement in different phases of the project, and for their integration in the ecosystem’s networks to promote mutual learning as well as to generate value together. Concilio et al. (2022, 13) conclude that the use of co-design tools with a structured and guided involvement of diverse stakeholders—as in the analysis of the service ecosystems, as well as in the related implementation of the hackathons—enabled both a solid understanding of the problems (accessibility of services) and created the necessary framework conditions for migrants to actively participate in these processes, thus giving the process itself an integrative effect. The participation of migrants in varying settings and collective activities with different stakeholders have created a framework to enable (1) an active collaboration on solutions and to become part of solution networks; (2) contacts (participatory behaviour) with public, civil, and migrant organizations; (3) access to new resources.

L. Rössl, F. Zardo, and C. Khoury: Co-creation approaches for migrants’ visibility

Regarding the integration, implementation and dissemination of the easyRights tools, the composition of actors of the institutional support networks illustrates that several of the named institutions have representative functions and are part of migrant communities of the pilot cities, while many are in contact with migrants, refugees and asylum seekers through their services but do not (claim to) represent migrants. Thus, the question arises inhowfar the collection of information and data by these institutions can be understood as legitimate and representative. The participating institutions looked for interview partners, target group participants for surveys, focus groups, and workshops. In this respect, they were door openers and established direct contact between the easyRights’ project team, migrants and relevant organisations. On the one hand, this process was supportive for the networking of the ecosystems and the different actors and promoted communication and understanding, on the other hand, the legitimacy of this representation was unquestioningly assumed. Especially in the case of support for data collection by governmental institutions, possible mistrust, existing power differentials and dependencies must be considered (Carlson, Jakli, and Linos 2018; da Silva Rebelo et al. 2018; Hynes 2003). Power hierarchies need to be regarded in migration and integration research per se: while marginalized groups are made the object of research, the others are the researchers and participation biases can arise that need to be addressed (Mata-Codesal, Kloetzer and Maiztegui-Oñate 2020, 207). Aki Harima and Julia Freudenberg (2019, 11–12) state that a shared social mission: culture, and power balance have impact on engagement and performance of refugees in co-creation processes. Power imbalance might emerge due to qualifications, motivations, and cultural differences. Studies illustrate that a positive co-creation experience of the participants leads to a higher interest in further co-creation activities, influences the quality of the contribution and the willingness to continue participating in project activities (Füller, Hutter und Faulant 2011, 262–264; Zhang et al 2015, 478–479). This emphasizes the need to focus on the micro-level of co-creation processes and to differentiate in communication between incentives, objectives, rationales and roles of involved actors (Stier and Smit 2021, 11).3. In the sense of reciprocity and an added value

3

In the easyRights project five of seven dimensions of the Critically Reflective Work Behavior (CRWB) framework by Marianne van Woerkom and Marcel Croon (2008) were used to ensure structured and reflected communication on individual level. Please find a more detailed description in Concilio, Karimi, and Rössl. 2021.

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for the persons/groups involved, it is necessary to consider interpretations and assignments of meaning taking place in (communication) processes. The multi-layeredness of communication on such issues, furthermore, raises the question to what extent COVID 19 influenced (in)visibility and aspects of empowerment in the easyRights project, as the first round of hackathons, many interviews, focus groups and workshops had to be implemented online, especially in the first half of the project. Without doubt, this change of context and use of technology-based communication exerted influence on the nature of exchanges, participation and use of resources. ICT based co-creation involves challenges and opportunities. The effects on co-creation value processes are little researched; time and costs are reduced, but in addition, the structure of interactions and role exercises is influenced (Breidbach and Maglio 2016, 3, 73–74). However, the institutional support networks do not enable insights into the contributions of migrants to the integration, implementation and dissemination of the digital tools of the easyRights project. This demonstrates that the focus on institutional networks is unsuitable for making the participation and contributions of migrants visible, since they disappear behind/in the organizations (representing them). The issues of visibility and power relations of the target groups were not sufficiently considered in the development of this part of the research design. Especially in the context of migration and integration research, however, (in)visibility, representation and power hierarchies must be critically discussed as part of the conception and further application of methodological approaches with the involvement of the persons concerned. It must be emphasized, though, that this article focuses on the method of network analysis of institutional support networks and that it is an ongoing project at the time of writing. Thus, only limited statements can be made about the entire, highly complex co-creation process of the easyRights project. Regarding the impact of the project as a whole, it is at this stage uncertain whether these processes could contribute to psychological empowerment according to Zimmerman (2000) and lead to the acquisition of skills and competencies at the individual level of the migrants as well as foster a better sense of control, critical awareness and participatory behaviour (self-confidence and understanding of the socio-political environment) (Zimmerman 2000, 46). Another limitation is the lack of data on the structural conditions and inner composition of the participating institutions, which are, however, central to the possibilities of representing (im)migrants.

L. Rössl, F. Zardo, and C. Khoury: Co-creation approaches for migrants’ visibility

Certainly, related questions have to be considered in the impact assessment, since the final easyRights (digital) solutions, according to their objectives, have the potential to make a significant contribution to the empowerment of migrants: on the one hand, by supporting (contextual) language acquisition and, on the other hand, through digital tools that are supposed to enable a better understanding and control of administrative processes and their context. Therefore, the project results/products and impact of co-creation methods on individuals, groups and communities in terms of empowerment and (in)visibility must be critically discussed and evaluated related to each other in order to draw broader conclusions on the acquisition of skills and competences by the participants and their empowerment. This is even more true with regard to the potential of co-creation methods to effectively contribute to deconstruct assumptions and established mainstream representations of migration and migrants.

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Breidbach, Christoph F., and Paul P. Maglio. 2016. “Technology-enabled value co-creation: An empirical analysis of actors, resources, and practices.” Industrial Marketing Management 56: 73–85. http://dx.doi.org/10.1016/j.indma rman.2016.03.011 Brighenti, Andrea. 2007. “Visibility: A Category for the Social Sciences.” Current Sociology 55, no. 3: 323–342. https://doi.org/10.1177/0011392107076079. Carayannis, Elias and, David Campbell. 2009. “‘Mode’ 3 and ‘Quadruple Helix’: toward a 21st century fractal innovation ecosystem”. International Journal of Technology Management 46, no. 3/4: 201–234. https://doi.org/10.1504/IJTM. 2009.023374 Carlson, Melissa, Laura Jakli, and Katerina Linos. 2018. “Refugees Misdirected: How Information, Misinformation, and Rumors Shape Refugees’ Access to Fundamental Rights.” Virginia Journal of International Law 57, no. 3: 539–573. Chouliaraki, Lilie, and Tijana Stolic. 2017. “Rethinking Media Responsibility in the Refugee “Crisis”: A Visual Typology of European News.” Media, Culture & Society 39, no. 8: 1162–77. https://doi.org/10.1177/0163443717726163. Concilio, Grazia, Giuliana Costa, Maryam Karimi, Maria Vitaller del Olmo, and Olga Kehagia. 2022. “Co-Designing with Migrants’ Easier Access to Public Services: A Technological Perspective.” Social Sciences 11, no. 2: 54. https://d oi.org/10.3390/socsci11020054. Concilio, Grazia, Maryam Karimi, and Lydia Rössl. 2021. “Complex Projects and Transition-Driven Evaluation: The Case of the EasyRights European Project.” Sustainability 13, no. 4: 2343. https://doi.org/10.3390/su13042343 Dahinden, Janine, Carolin Fischer, and Joanna Menet. 2021. “Knowledge Production, Reflexivity, and the Use of Categories in Migration Studies: Tackling Challenges in the Field.” Ethnic and Racial Studies 44, no. 4: 535–54. http s://doi.org/10.1080/01419870.2020.1752926. Da Silva Rebelo, María José, Mercedes Fernández, and Joseba Achotegui. 2018. “Mistrust, anger, and hostility in refugees, asylum seekers, and immigrants: A systematic review.” Canadian Psychology/Psychologie canadienne 59, no. 3: 239–251. https://doi.org/10.1037/cap0000131 Fischer, Frank. 2009. Democracy and Expertise: Reorienting Policy Inquiry. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Füller, Johann, Katja Hutter, and Rita Faullant. 2011. “Why co-creation experience matters? Creative experience and its impact on the quantity and quality of creative contributions.” R&D Management 41, no. 3: 259–273. Füller, Johann, Hans Mühlbacher, Kurt Matzler, and Gregor Jawecki. 2014. “Consumer Empowerment Through Internet-Based Co-creation.” Journal

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pact in society”. Journal of Innovation and Entrepreneurship 10, no. 35. https:// doi.org/10.1186/s13731-021-00176-2 Turin, Tanvir Chowdhury, Nashit Chowdhury, Sarika Haque, Nahid Rumana, Nafiza Rahman, and Mohammad A. A. Lasker. 2021.“Involving Im/Migrant Community Members for Knowledge Co-Creation: The Greater the Desired Involvement, the Greater the Need for Capacity Building.” BMJ Global Health 6: e007602. https://doi.org/10.1136/bmjgh-2021-007602. Van Dijk-de Vries, Anneke, Anita Stevens, Trudy van der Weijden, and Anna J. H. M. Beurskens. 2020. “How to support a co-creative research approach in order to foster impact. The development of a Co-creation Impact Compass for healthcare researchers.” PloS ONE 15, no. 10: e0240543. https://doi.org/ 10.1371/journal.pone.0240543 Van Woerkom, Marianne, and Marcel Croon. 2008. “Operationalising Critically Reflective Work Behaviour.” Personnel Review 37, no. 3: 317–331. http s://doi.org/10.1108/00483480810862297 Wesselink, Anna, Karen S. Buchanan, Yola Georgiadou, and Esther Turnhout. 2013. “Technical knowledge, discursive spaces and politics at the science–policy interface.” Environmental Science & Policy 30: 1–9. https://doi.or g/10.1016/j.envsci.2012.12.008. Zardo, Federica, and Sarah Wolff. 2022. “Decentering the Study of Migration Governance in the Mediterranean”. Geopolitcs 27: 678–702. https://doi.org/ 10.1080/14650045.2021.1978944 Zhang, Hong, Yaobin Lu, Bin Wangc, and Sibin Wuc. 2015. “The impacts of technological environments and co-creation experiences on customer participation.” Information & Management 52: 468–482. http://dx.doi.org/10.10 16/j.im.2015.01.008 Zimmerman, Marc A. 2000.“Empowerment Theory.” In Handbook of Community Psychology edited by Julian Rappaport and Edward Seidman, 43–63. New York: Kluwer Academic/Plenum Publishers. Zwass, Vladimir. 2014. “Co-Creation: Toward a Taxonomy and an Integrated Research Perspective.” International Journal of Electronic Commerce 15, no. 1: 11–48. https://doi.org/10.2753/JEC1086-4415150101

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Online sources easyRights. 2021. D5.1: “Triple Loop Learning Mechanisms.” Accessed February 27, 2022. https://www.easyrights.eu/_files/ugd/68109f_297e94f683e54 30596aa5a0652ddf6e9.pdf easyRights. 2021. D5.2: “User Analysis and Key Performance Indicators.” Soon to be published at: https://www.easyrights.eu/deliverables easyRights. 2022. D5.4: “Institutional Sustainability Assessment.” https://ww w.easyrights.eu/deliverables easyRights. 2021. D2.1 “Report on Pilot Co-creation and Governance Activities 1.” Soon to be published at: https://www.easyrights.eu/deliverables easyRights. 2021. D3.2 “First Hackathon Report.” Soon to be published at: http s://www.easyrights.eu/deliverables. easyRights. 2022. D3.3 “Second Hackathon Report.” Soon to be published at: h ttps://www.easyrights.eu/deliverables easyRights. 2021. D4.1 “Requirement Analysis.” Soon to be published at: https: //www.easyrights.eu/deliverables

“Traces and masks of refugees”— artistic representations of the visible, the hidden and the ambiguous Georg Traska

With reference to the art exhibition project “Traces and Masks of Refugees” (State Gallery of Lower Austria/Landesgalerie Niederösterreich, Krems, 2020/2021) curated by Günther Oberhollenzer and the author, this article deals with the potentials of fine arts in making visible certain aspects of forced migration, of being and being made refugees. I will first discuss how we as curators and the participating artists dealt with the concepts of “refugee(s)” and forced migration. Second, the paper addresses the historical dimension of the artworks, their relationship to our conceptual remoteness from historical events, and the enduring transformations of personal experience in the physical materials of the arts. Third, “traces” and “masks” will be introduced as visual material agents of the arts, producing a critical distance to the social construction of being and being made refugees.

Institutional preconditions and framing of the topic If you wish to conceive an art exhibition on the topic of refugees at the State Gallery of Lower Austria, a central precondition is the Museum’s profile of combining contemporary with historical art and its association with the State Collections of Lower Austria (comprising assets of historical and contemporary art). When I was invited to the project by Art Director Christian Bauer, we started from a vague concept of “exile, flight and expulsion”, which partly came from the availability of certain collections.1 We then decided to narrow 1

Along with the State Gallery of Lower Austria, we also considered a collaboration with the Documentation Centre of Austrian Resistance (DÖW, Dokumentationsarchiv des

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down our focus to “refugees” and to delimitate it to the Second Republic of Austria, that is, to the years 1945 to 2020, with some recourses to the Nazi period, in which the state and its institutions prosecuted, killed and expelled millions of people along racist and political criteria. Considering the immense scale of the refugee crises caused by the Nazi regime, those expelled and scattered all around the world would have needed an exhibition of their own. On the other hand, leaving out the Nazi period entirely and neatly starting from 1945 would have indirectly affirmed the political myth that “Austria” did not exist when annexed by Nazi Germany and, therefore, could not to be held responsible for the crimes executed by its inhabitants and institutions under “foreign dominion” (Rathkolb 2017). In the contemporary understanding of refugees and refugeeness in Austria, the Nazi period necessarily emerges as a refence layer of recent history that entails a particular moral and political responsibility.

Main outlines of the exhibition, artists and works exhibited The works of 39 artists born between 1881 (Dora Kalmus) and 1995 (Rania Mustafa Ali), most of them living in Austria, were displayed across an area of roughly 1,200 square meters, showing a wide range of media and concepts of representation, artistic techniques and visual languages: from classical painting and drawing, plastic works, documentary photography, to video, sound and complex material installations. The following artists took part in the exhibition: Osman Ahmed, Basel Alsheakh Ali, Rania Mustafa Ali, Alaa Alkurdi, Khaled Barakeh, Jakov Bararon, István Bielik, Franz Blaha, Tanja Boukal, Sepp Brudermann und Anabel Rodriguez, Eva Brunner-Szabo, Robert Capa, Ramesch Daha, Danica Dakić, Adel Dauood, Friedemann Derschmidt, Mehmet Emir, Olga Georgieva, Rolf Gillhausen, Patricio Handl, Robert Jelinek, Anna Jermolaewa, Dora Kallmus, Lena Lapschina, Vadim Kosmatschof, Evelyn Kreinecker, Erich Lessing, Camila Lobos, Klaus Mosettig, Lisl Ponger, Florian Rainer, Faek Rasul, Zbyněk Sekal, Deborah Sengl, Alena Vadura-Bilek, Nina Werzhbinskaja-Rabinowich, Linda Zahra and Carl Zahraddnik.

Österreichischen Widerstandes), whose collection focuses on realistic depictions and illustrations of the atrocities committed by the Nazi Regime.

Georg Traska: “Traces and masks of refugees”

As curators we started from two lines of research: the first was a historical survey of the refugee movements of the Second Republic of Austria, concerning periods and frequencies, political and legal contexts, numbers of migrants, countries of origin, reasons of flight, the various ways of receiving incoming refugees in Austria etc. The second line of research was on artists, their work, and how they deal with the topic of forced migration and refugees. For this research we relied on first-hand knowledge, indications and advice of curators from Austrian art collections, and from persons that could support us as mediators toward specific exile groups. From the beginning, we knew that the artists would come from two different backgrounds: those who chose to deal with the topic of forced migration or came to deal with the topic along a certain conceptual work, without being directly affected biographically; and those who were or still are (in whatever a sense) refugees and whose work was in some way informed by this experience, not necessarily by a deliberate decision as in the case of the first group. We did not have a plan which share the two groups would or should have; and we had only vague assumptions as to how their artistic concepts and expressions would differ in dealing with our topic. What is more, the two groups cannot be neatly separated. Khaled Barakeh, for example, was born in Syria, graduated in Damascus, moved to Denmark and later to Germany in 2008, that is three years before the outbreak of the Syrian civil war.2 He has consequently been dealing with war and the horrendous political violence in Syria, being intensely linked to friends, colleagues and the population of that country as well as with the Syrian diaspora in Europe. Finally, the share of artists from the two groups was roughly equal, the share of works by biographically affected artists was considerably bigger.

Who is a refugee and who has the power to define that? What does it mean to be a refugee? These were questions we had to face from the beginning. While we needed some distinction from migration as a much wider phenomenon, we did not want to bind our concept to any instrumental definitions, such as the Geneva Convention. Therefore, it made sense to postpone the decision of a precise definition and apply an open concept of “forced”, that is, not freely chosen, mi2

Webpage of the artist: https://www.khaledbarakeh.com/biography.

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gration. In a next step, we would put a critical focus on the lines of definition and their necessary blurring in the process of research and communication with artists. The Oxford Handbook of Refugee and Forced Migration Studies (Fiddian-Qasmiyeh et al. 2014), with its dynamic multidisciplinary perspective, served as a preliminary source of definition for these concepts with regard to both the exhibition and this article. One example of higher complexity reflecting the intricacy of definitions in the exhibition was Mehmet Emir’s photographic long-term research on a Kurdish village in eastern Turkey, which starts with his own emigration as a young man following his father to Vienna as a migrant worker (“Gastarbeiter”) in the 1970s (Bauer, Oberhollenzer and Traska 2020, 98 and 102–103). As his father was moving to Vienna in line with Austria’s recruitment agreement with Turkey (“Anwerbeabkommen”), he was not considered a refugee. Nevertheless, he had also survived the massacre of his village by the Turkish military in 1937/38 in the province of Dersim (today Tunceli) as a young child. The enduring control and occupation by the Turkish military weakened the region’s economy and contributed willingly to the exodus of its population. With the addition of a verbal explanation as part of the work, Mehmet Emir’s photographic narration also exemplifies the shortcoming of the categorical labels of migration when it comes to the complexity of individual biographies. More important than the actual question “Who is a refugee?” was the power of definition and the meaning given to the term “refugee” as a social designation and individual or collective condition. As Birgit Behrensen and Manuela Westphal (2019, 3) put it in relation to the current challenges of an already well-established research on forced migration (Fluchtmigrationsforschung): “Nonetheless, it is critical to ask who exactly is at the center of the rapidly developing research landscape? Whose wishes, needs and requirements does the research elucidate and towards which aim is the research oriented?” One major issue of this multi-disciplinary anthology is the inclusion of refugees and their participation in the research process, the de-hierarchization between subjects and objects of research, with manifold methodological consequences. This issue was also relevant to us as curators. Although our exhibition concept was not participatory as such, it was based on an open process of gradual definition through the research and selection of artists. Moreover, it was informed by intense dialogue with the artists, which was possible due to the relatively relaxed project time frame of two years. The subject-object relationship between curators and artists substantially differs from scientific research. Artists mostly enter the process of collaboration with

Georg Traska: “Traces and masks of refugees”

an extant oeuvre (or if they produce works for an exhibition, they are usually quite free in their production); for us it was particularly important to learn as much as we could about how artists had been dealing with our exhibition topic. In this research process, the media, physical procedures and means of artistic expression were as relevant as the semantic content, as the media and means imply much of the “methodology” by which the arts address a topic. In other words, in our conceptual and research process, the interpretation of the general topic always went through the works of art we gathered and through their artistic methodologies. This, indeed, has consequences on how the topic of forced migration and refugeeness is constituted in the exhibition. The intentionality of modern painting and sculpture (less so in other media) is often not so much directed at a specific preexisting content to be represented, but rather at some kind of feeling, which the artists find within their own mind and body, and at the same time in the sensible material they continuously work with. Or in other words, the subject matter of the artwork crystalizes in and from the dialogue the artists have with their evolving work—a dialogue taking place in specific materials and material procedures. It is probably due to this reason that works produced by artists who were refugees at some point played a major role in the exhibition; it is certainly the reason why I put a main focus on such works in this article. The creators of these works often did not decide a priori to explicitly represent an aspect of being a refugee. Rather, this condition was somehow present in their concept or surfaced in the creative process. In this way, they could discover and make visible aspects of forced migration that would otherwise, in other media or materials, not easily become manifest; and the concept of being a refugee can be specified or questioned by these works in interesting ways. As a result of research and dialogue, the works of art were spatially grouped according to the following thematic pivots: photography and film documents/artists and their work during times of flight/bio-bureaucracies/faces, masks and machines/self-construction and group identities/cultural deconstruction/“mobility” versus “migration”/“processing”/imaginary spaces/refugees and language.

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“Refugees” versus “exiles” Given this rather flexible conceptual framing and the introduction of works by artists who have fully established themselves at a new place of residence, there was no neat distinction between “refugeeness” and “exile” in the exhibition. We tried to limit our selection to such artworks where aspects of exile mainly appear as a direct effect and solidification of refugeeness. In some works intended to deconstruct identity issues and conflicts (e.g. Alaa Alkurdi, Alena Vadura-Bilek, Nina Werzhbinskaja-Rabinowich, Linda Zahra, Carl Zahraddnik), the distinction between refugee and exile appears impossible, if not idle. (As curators, we would not ask artists whether they rather define themselves as refugees or exiles unless this distinction is specified by the artwork). We did not want to explore the wider field of diaspora where the lasting reference to a specific distant origin is shared and upheld collectively, resulting in a specific hybrid “culture” (of languages, mythologies, cuisines etc.). In art history research, refugeeness and exile are not clearly separated. Exile has been studied extensively since the late 1960s, primarily referring to artists, intellectuals, art historians and theoreticians from Nazi-controlled European territories (Frowein 1986; Krohn 1992; Sadowsky 2020; Winklbauer 2008). These studies already implied in their perspective a relatively long time from the events of expulsion and flight. In artistic activist projects and art galleries, refugeeness, as related to contemporary refugees, has become a frequent topic for more than 20 years, but has, according to the author’s knowledge, never been systematically explored in art history. The monumental exhibition “The Warmth of Other Suns. Stories of Global Displacement” in the Phillips Collection (Washington)3 was conceived a little earlier than the Krems exhibition (opening in June 2019). It brought together abstract pieces of celebrated American artists with a past as refugees, such as Mark Rothko (Markus Yakovlevich Rothkowitz) or Ashile Gorky (Vostanik Manoug Adoian), with historical iconographies of forced displacement as well as contemporary artwork from all over the world, reflecting present refugee movements and hardships (Farago 2019). The show thus bridged a similar conceptual range, as compared to the Krems exhibition, with a major difference of material and context. 3

https://www.phillipscollection.org/event/2019-06-21-warmth-other-suns-stories-glo bal-displacement. The exhibition was not accompanied by a published catalogue.

Georg Traska: “Traces and masks of refugees”

Historical references and their transformation in artwork materiality Covering a time span of 75 years—and more, if we account for the recourses to the Nazi period—the project evoked very different levels of historicity and temporality. The spatial disposition of the exhibits did not follow any time line, except for one section of documentary photography (Bauer, Oberhollenzer and Traska 2020, 38–53). Instead it was grouped according to the thematic pivots indicated above. A detailed historical survey of these 75 years of Austrian history, as related to forced migration and refugees, was given in the catalogue (Traska 2020). In the exhibition, historical data appeared only as hints in the captions of individual works or work groups. As such, the exhibition did not construct or reconstruct a “history” in the first place. The historical framework was a prerequisite to show, by means of works of art, forced migration and being refugee(s) less as a chain of events rather than as a continuous cultural element on the collective level and a lasting factor on the individual-biographical level. When we started the project, our—the curators’ perspective of 2018—already differed from 2015, when hundreds of thousands of refugees streamed into and through Austria. We intended to avoid the predominant and easily recognizable “iconography” of refugees: dangerous journeys; overloaded boats; refugees stranded at borders, in degraded camps, along streets, bus and railway stations; pressure by security forces etc. Still, some of these immediate aspects of forced migration and utmost existential exposure among refugees—exposed once again by such publicly circulating pictures—also appeared in the exhibition and, as we believe, had to be represented there (Bauer, Oberhollenzer and Traska 2020, 58–59). In some historical moments, it was a specific artistic challenge to raise the ethics of journalistic reportage photography and bridge the gap toward artistic photography. This becomes clear in the work of the 1947 founded international cooperative Magnum Photos (Miller 1998), represented in the exhibition by photos of Robert Capa and Erich Lessing, who first created an iconography of refugees to become iconic later (Bauer, Oberhollenzer and Traska 2020, 48–49, 52–53). In István Bielik and Florian Rainer’s works from 2015, the “photographic eyewitness” makes a valuable contribution to the collective imaginary, based on specific fieldwork, including little spectacular, hidden and remote sites and moments (Bauer, Oberhollenzer and Traska 2020, 54–57). Rania Mustafa Ali applied the technical effortlessness of the

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mobile phone and “selfie” era to a “self-documentary” of her flight from Syria, including extremely threatening and shocking passages. However important these images are, they both perceive and conceive the “moment of exception” of both the individual refugee as well as the affected political and social collectives. When these “moments of exception” keep repeating and become more frequent, they can be politically turned into a “state of exception”, reducing or entirely withholding basic human rights, as the European border regimes of the last twenty years have shown: ongoing brutalization taking place within a political body, the European Union, that officially adheres to fundamental human rights, including the right to asylum (Costello and Mann 2020). While these images do not only lose their awakening or shocking effect in this context, their ordinariness makes the beholder a voyeur “regarding the pain of others” (Sontag 2003).4 The political proclamation and maintenance of such a “state of exception” transforms refugees, whose “bare lives” are threatened, into a “threat” to the “civilized” Schengen area (Agamben 1998, 2005), and thereby perverts the value and meaning of images independent of their specific qualities. This, indeed, is a risk of realistic images focusing on the short-term events of forced migration. In artistic treatment, the “events” belonging to a refugee story can completely recede into the background when an artist reworks his or her mental connection to the experience of traumatizing violence over a longer period of time. This is the case in the work of Faek Rasul, who as a Kurd survived years of persecution, imprisonment, hiding and permanent life threat under Saddam Hussein. Immediately after his arrival in Austria (after two years in various refugee camps in Iran), he produced the series Dreams that realistically represents the physicality of torture, killing and chemical attacks (reminiscent of Saddam Hussein’s genocidal “Anfal campaign” in the Kurdish regions of North Iraq during the Iran-Iraq War) in fragmented spaces of fragmented bodies (Rasul 2020).5 Band structures produced of painstakingly fine black ballpoint pen hatchings are the main element in constructing faces, limbs and other objects. When these band structures are read as muscles, the bodies appear as if they had been skinned alive.

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Susan Sontag’s extended essay explores images of atrocities mainly in 19th and 20th century war photography and differentiates modes of production and reception along media history, starting from a moral imperative expressed by Virginia Woolf in 1938 that certain images of war have to move the beholder against war. For the biography, see Rasul 2020.

Georg Traska: “Traces and masks of refugees”

Figure 1: Faek Rasul, Dreams III, 1988, 70 x 50 cm, ballpoint pen on paper

© Faek Rasul. Provided for the State Gallery of Lower Austria

30 years after Dreams, the series Traces still bears reference to the same traumatic memories of violence and imprisonment, but in a completely different

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artistic language: more concrete in the paintings’ materiality but far more abstract in terms of visual representation.

Figure 2: Faek Rasul, Traces, 2019, 150 x 200 cm, mixed media on canvas

© Faek Rasul. Provided for the State Gallery of Lower Austria

The ground of the paintings is elaborated in many layers of troweling, levelling and scratching—treating the surface literally like a wall which Rasul explains as reminiscent of the walls in the Kirkuk prison (in Northern Iraq). There, inmates had left signs, which were frequently to become their last material traces of life before execution and disappearance.6 On this wall-like ground, Rasul used dozens of aquarelle pencils to draw big, round or oval shapes, consisting of very fine and dense hatchings. With increasing density, the hatchings’ black turns into a silvery shimmer and renders the spatial relationship between these open-contour shapes and the wall-like ground undefinable: depending on lighting, angle and the distance of perception, we 6

In 2005 and 2007, the painter rediscovered some of those signs when coming back to the Kirkuk prison; see Kragulj 2015, 56–57.

Georg Traska: “Traces and masks of refugees”

either see them as “openings” into a black depth the eye finds no hold at, or as “bodies” shimmering somewhere in front of the paintings’ ground.7 When the beholders grasp the graphic texture of the black elements, of which each line can be singled out at the border (no zigzag hatchings, but individual lines!), they can guess the gradual solidification of lines toward a shape. Faek Rasul (2020) told me in an interview that this solidification process takes long days of uninterrupted work. By its nature, this procedure immerses the painter’s body and soul into a kind of thoughtless objective ritual controlled by his eyes as from the “outside”. Out of this ritual, “something” between subject and object, between traumatic memory and material presence emerges or, in terms of space, something between bodies and spatial openings. Rasul himself relates this process to the surrealist concept of “automatic drawing” for its unintentionality. However, the automatic drawing in surrealist tradition (e.g. of André Masson) is intended to reveal something unconscious by means of spontaneous expressive lines, brought forward by the hand’s free dance. Rasul, however, restricts his body to an objective hermetic ritual, expressive maybe, but not due to a spontaneous flow. A certain representational muteness is decisive of the pictures’ effect, but in its vibrant visuality the muteness is not dull, but descriptive of an absence. A similarly wide range between representational realism, a reference to history and personal experience on the one hand, and artistic abstraction, on the other, can be discerned in the oeuvre of Zbyněk Sekal (1923–1998). Here, abstraction transforms referentiality into something inherent to the processing of material and shape. Sekal was arrested in 1941 by the German occupiers for spreading anti-Nazi propaganda leaflets in Prague, and imprisoned until the end of World War II (Klimešová 2015). He survived Mauthausen in the office of the concentration camp, where he produced small hand drawings which he could hide and take with him after the camp’s liberation.

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Photographic representations hardly convey this ambivalence.

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Figure 3: Zbyněk Sekal, drawing produced during the imprisonment in the Mauthausen concentration camp, 19 x 13,5 cm, gouache (?) on paper

© Zbyněk Sekal (Bildrecht, Wien). Provided for the State Gallery of Lower Austria

Georg Traska: “Traces and masks of refugees”

Produced before his art studies, Sekal never exhibited them as works of art, but preserved them carefully throughout his life. In 1969, he had to flee from Czechoslovakia after the brutal suppression of the Prague Spring. According to his widow, Christine Sekal, he said: “I would not have survived being imprisoned one more time” (unrecorded conversation, 2019). Still, the horrors of the Nazi system had left much deeper scars in his life than the repressive communist system. After his early drawings from the concentration camp, few works explicitly referred to the Nazis or the crimes of communist totalitarianism. The General from 1954 (Bauer, Oberhollenzer and Traska 2020, 69) is a metahistorical hieratic figure scratched out from a dark upper layer that had covered the entire canvas, with a red glooming head, bearing on his chest an Iron Cross, a symbol the Nazis had taken over from the Prussian Army and the German Empire, next to a presumably imaginary symbol. A historically narrower point of reference is brought along by a stone sculpture with a relief reminiscent of the Mauthausen camp ground plan, produced in 1966 during the Sculpture Symposium of St. Margarethen in Austria (not exhibited in Krems). A totem-like, black, wooden sculpture with rusty nails and clips all over the surface is entitled Der gemarterte Marterpfahl (The Martyred Stake of Martyrdom from 1963, fig. 4)—the German title repeating the verb “martyr” in active and passive form to relate the force the artist executes on the material to an existential level.

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Figure 4: Zbyněk Sekal, Der gemarterte Marterpfahl / The martyred stake,1963, 62 x 14,3 x 10,5 cm, wood and nails

© Zbyněk Sekal (Bildrecht, Wien). Provided for the State Gallery of Lower Austria

Working almost exclusively with used and aged materials, which as such perform an essential aesthetic agency, this subject-object relationship remains active in most of Sekal’s oeuvre. The physical violence the craftsman applies to force his will of shaping upon the material is tamed and balanced by Sekal’s outstanding sensitivity and creative anticipation of the materials’ expressive and formal potentialities. In an anthropomorphic metaphor, the artistic act

Georg Traska: “Traces and masks of refugees”

exposes the “vulnerability”8 of the “living material”, and thus the artist, as both acting on and feeling with the figure of his creation, becoming complicit with both victimhood and perpetration, as explicit in the title Der gemarterte Marterpfahl. The same strong tension between “work” and “form” characterizes Sekal’s nail pictures from 1993, now entitled by the cold calculation of the number of nails 58 x 56 = 3248 (fig. 5).

Figure 5: Zbyněk Sekal, 58 x 56, 1993, 34,5 x 34,5 x 3,5 cm, nails, sheet metal, wood, metal frame

© Zbyněk Sekal (Bildrecht, Wien). Provided for the State Gallery of Lower Austria

He pinched off every nail head—all of them used, aged nails—and drove them through an iron sheet into the wooden ground, in rows and lines drawn

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I owe the term “vulnerability” to Christine Sekal who had used it in this sense in a conversation.

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by the eyes’ free judgment and lending to the minimal structure a vibration of shape, surface and color. In Sekal’s meditations on violence in arts and crafts, any reference to a historical-biographical event is even more abstract than in Rasul’s work—with the exception of few explicit moments—and could justly be ignored in other hermeneutic contexts. In the Krems exhibition, however, this high level of abstraction appears as an equivalent to the increasingly intrinsic character of forced migration and its political backgrounds of extreme violence in our Austrian and Central European contemporary history. This violence is always sensible to those who were exposed to it at some point in their lives, but can also be felt by society at large when confronted with the multifaceted continuity of refugee stories that ended up “here”. Important to the concept of the exhibition and the very idea of “forced migration”: the more time passes between a historical event and the artist’s elaboration, and the more abstract its language, the more “forced migration” and the individual refugee stories blend into a broader picture of political violence as a traumatic aspect of our collective memory. This metamorphosis (abstraction) of psychic energy—at its place of origin traumatic, that is, unresolvable and therefore long-lasting as a driver—is specific to the arts. In the roughness and simultaneous subtlety of the shapegiving processing of the material, the psychic energy becomes creatively active and sensible, whereas in other spheres of feeling and interaction, it may be mainly unsettling (e.g., as episodes of depression or aggression). It is truly “trans-formed” in the sense of giving birth to a sensible form; and in this artistic act—whatever that means to the artist’s inner world, which cannot be dealt with here—something is liberated to the extent that the choices of concept, process and form are deliberate and, therefore, free to reworking, further transformation and abstraction within the realm of the arts, sometimes over the course of decades with an immense range of conceptual differences. Productivity or originality were linked, more broadly, to the traumatic, “unhealable” rift of exile by various theoreticians of modernity and postmodernity, such as Edward Said and Vilém Flusser, on the basis of recognizing homelessness as a main condition of modernity itself (Eckmann 2019; Flusser 2003; Said 2002). Yet, in the works discussed here, the metamorphosis is more specific to the material procedures of the visual arts.

Georg Traska: “Traces and masks of refugees”

“Traces and Masks” as visual agents However important and often lifesaving the acknowledgement and granting of asylum is, the process of becoming a refugee mostly coincides with deprivation and degradation in many aspects of life: the loss of political rights, family, friends and social networks, of cultural belonging and orientation (including language), the devaluation of acknowledged educational qualifications and professional capacities, the loss of familiar sites and environments etc. If refugees are defined as a social group by a receiving society, this construes a group identity beyond the functionality of asylum; and belonging to this group preserves a status of dependence, loss and degradation.9 Both terms of the exhibition title, “traces” and “masks”, imply that refugees are hardly represented directly but rather through a mediating, distancing lens at a level of reflection or by a work of deconstruction. Going for “traces” and “masks” was a constituent decision and led us curators through the selection process of works and the dialogue with the artists involved. The “mask”, as a hint to the inadequacy of the label “refugee” within the receiving society, was there from the conceptual beginning (and it was there before its new social dimension in the COVID-19 pandemic). The “trace” solidified with the works of art emerging in our research and selection process. Both terms are important agents in an anthropology of the visual arts. One dimension of the term “trace” is temporal in the sense of aftereffects and their evolvement, of the blending and gradual obliteration in an artistic process, parallel to personal and collective processes, as discussed above. Another facet of “trace” which happened to play a major role in the exhibition refers to the indexical meaning of the term, a sign or image produced by a physical imprint,10 and overlaps with the imagery of the “mask”, as the visible fixation of the individual face and identity or its consequential hiding. A whole bulk of works in the exhibition deals with stamps from bureaucratic procedures of authentication and permission, ultimately with the re-

9 10

In that sense, Hannah Arendt started her famous article “We refugees” (1943) with the words: “In the first place, we don’t like to be called ‘refugees’.” Rosalind Krauss (1977) introduced the “index” and indexicality to the interpretation of modern art of the American 1970s, based on the semiotic theory of Charles Sanders Peirce, relating certain qualities of photography (already noticed by Peirce) and linguistic aspects of Peirce’s index to abstract painting and its different ways of producing meaning.

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placement of the persona by bureaucratic signs. At the same time, there is an intrinsic artistic interest in stamps as visual traces, most pure and abstract in the drawing of Klaus Mosettig’s Handwriting I, which relies on a photo of a table positioned at the gate to the harbor of the island of Leros (Greece), where incoming refugees were registered by leaving fingerprints on their first papers as migrants who “illegally” entered European ground.

Figure 6: Klaus Mosettig, Handwriting I, 2017, 126,5 x 201,8 cm, pencil on paper

© Klaus Mosettig (Sammlung Hainz, Wien). Provided for the State Gallery of Lower Austria

Mosettig’s work from 2017 originated from the photo of a table covered all over by “traces of traces”: the unintended remains of thousands of finger prints on the support plate of the registration procedure. He produced a monumental drawing by a further step of transfer, now not indexical, but by creating a simile in a meticulous hand drawing that from far resembles a roughly pixeled photo. The critical observation of the bureaucratic handling of humans, as soon as their feet first touch European soil, is manifested by an artistic procedure reflecting on the development of an “image” from printing and projectional procedures. And we may assume that the painstaking redrawing (copying) of the rough signs with a fine pencil in monumental scale somehow pays

Georg Traska: “Traces and masks of refugees”

tribute to the humans hidden behind these traces of traces of traces of traces. The graphic ritual reminds us of Rasul’s hatchings, but in Mosettig’s work, it does not refer to a personal substrate of experience as in Rasul’s case. Mosettig was not even on the island himself, but received the photo from Catharina Kahane, an art historian and collaborator of the NGO “Echo 100plus” supporting refugees on the island (Kahane 2018). The graphic texture of his work is fine, cool and meticulous, prone of any gestural impact which Rasul’s hatchings in the “Traces” series show. The distance toward the refugees is manifested in the graphic language as a timid respectfulness, while from the “identities” the fingerprints ought to authenticate absolutely nothing is left. Khaled Barakeh’s Self Portrait as a Power Structure (2018, fig. 7) is also conceived under the impression of migration and mobility in today’s relentless global border regimes.

Figure 7: Khaled Barakeh, Self Portrait as a Power Structure, 2018, wood, stamps, paper, 45 parts

© Khaled Barakeh. Provided for the State Gallery of Lower Austria

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Nevertheless, it does not start from the mass production of a bureaucratic machine that produces “new identities” in a new land, but from the long series of visa stamps left behind in his passport whenever he crossed national borders, and the power of these countries to control his movements. Here, as in other works such as Relentless Images (2018) also shown in the exhibition, Barakeh extracts and visually condenses a structure of traces in order to reconstruct, lay bare, and therefore possibly deconstruct in the beholder’ reflection, specific biopolitical and bureaucratic power structures. Calling a series of stamps a “self-portrait” already indicates the overlapping between “trace” and “mask”, which becomes explicit in the works of Vadim Kosmatschof and Linda Zahra (Bauer, Oberhollenzer and Traska 2020, 86 and 94–95). Vadim Kosmatschof’s Visa Series (1979–81, fig. 8) stands isolated in his oeuvre as a sculptor and draughtsman.

Figure 8: Vadim Kosmatschof, Visa (Family Portrait), 1979, 120 x 240 cm, acrylic on canvas, two parts

© Vadim Kosmatschof. Provided for the State Gallery of Lower Austria

It reflects the conditions when he and his wife, the painter and fiber artist Elena Koneff, with their little daughter Maria escaped from the Soviet Union in 1979. Leaving the Soviet Union and its repressive system “officially” was a legal and bureaucratic torture, whereas entering the “free West” was easier for many refugees back then. The option of “official” emigration depended entirely on the consent of the regime. Each of the few belongings the emigrants wanted

Georg Traska: “Traces and masks of refugees”

to take with them had to be stamped and listed, while everything of monetary value had to be left behind. The emigrants left the country largely dispossessed and deprived of their citizenship, which implied the impossibility of return. Kosmatschof’s monumental paintings elaborate this desired yet painful passage, blowing up the family visa document in a reduced and abstracted color scheme (eventually reversing the tonal values) and applying on top the stamp every object intended for export had to bear. Hence, Kosmatschof’s visa paintings also remind us of the specific material conditions of those fleeing painters and sculptors, whose artistic achievements depend largely on a material substrate (and not so much on a concept that can more easily be repeated). In most historical and present-day cases, they have had to leave their entire oeuvre or major parts behind. The depersonalized, cold materiality of the “portrait photos” emphasized in Kosmatschof’s Visa Series is typical of personal documents. What is unusual for refugee visas and registrations is the existential dependence on these papers (without which a refugee becomes a “sans-papier” and is excluded from most basic civil rights, a “nobody” in the order of states and national borders). When Vadim Kosmatschof artistically processed these papers after his successful emigration, he mentioned in a conversation that he intended his art to support him in leaving behind the uncertainties and pains of emigration. As such, it was an optimistic act of regained self-assertion. Alaa Alkurdi’s video self-portrait entitled Reverse Privilege (fig. 9) is less optimistic.

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Figure 9: Alaa Alkurdi, still from Reverse Privilege, 2018, video, 8 min

©Alaa Alkurdi. Provided for the State Gallery of Lower Austria

In the video, Alkurdi sits in front of a folding mirror in an otherwise black room, possibly a theatre backstage area, and very thoroughly puts on his makeup and sprays his hair, in order to turn his skin and hair from light to dark. Also, the eyes change color one by one. Deliberately putting a dark mask on a light face, we may assume, is the meaning of “reverse privilege”. The manipulation of the body’s visual surface is confusing; we do not understand which is the face and which is the mask. We may rather have presumed that the face of Alaa Alkurdi is dark and the mask is light. But the video, however detailed it lets us observe the transformation, does not provide us with a basis for discerning reality from performance. The visual space of ambivalence is accompanied by texts spoken by four speakers (men and women) in four languages, and we capture only parts of fragmented sentences by accident of our individual language skills. The texts appear as a kind of inner voice of the person shown in the video, while the four languages coincide with those spoken by Alaa Alkurdi (English, Arabic, Swedish, German). Many of the sentences speak of instances of othering and the interiorization of othering, of a self that is to itself one or many “others” as the variety of speakers and languages suggests. The audiovisual installation is complemented by a written meta-text (Bauer, Oberhol-

Georg Traska: “Traces and masks of refugees”

lenzer and Traska 2020, 96) about othering and the construction of identity. It rejects the hierarchy of a “mother tongue” (binding the speaker “by nature” to an intimate community of origin) and secondary languages—a hierarchy imposed on a Palestinian refugee who lives in Vienna and Goetheborg, had grown up in Syria, and is constantly confronted with his born identity. But the political decidedness of this rejection does not seem to mitigate the inner effects of the otherness imposed on the refugee and migrant as shown in the video. In the image of the refugee or a person having been made a refugee, the ambivalence between the face and a mask, which Hans Belting (2013) sees effective in every portrait (in every immobile, cut out image of a person’s facial surface) is radicalized. In a wider social and existential understanding, after all, a qualitative differentiation between face and mask is enabled only by communication within a familiar and safe environment. Only in the living mirror of continuous social exchange can we gain a face for ourselves—the face of a stable self the others give credit to. This credit, which is never certain, is rigorously withdrawn from the refugee as a stranger. The setting of an asylum interview, a situation of most perfect social asymmetry and utmost importance for the refugee’s life, is symbolic of this privation: this is when asylum seekers must gain the trust of the officer at the Federal Office of Immigration and Asylum when interviewed “about their personal circumstances, their journey to Austria and the reasons why they fled their country of origin”.11 They are supposed to convincingly show their “true face” to a professional sceptic in order to prove that it neatly fits into the mask of the Geneva Convention refugee or another predefined status of protection. It is for those reasons that the self-portrait can be particularly challenging and urgent to a migrant, refugee or any other person who, in one period of life, was irreversibly transferred to a completely new environment, disconnected from former environments and networks in which a personality had grown and gained some kind of social embeddedness. The artistic treatment of (self-)alienation is of course by no means only typical of migration, but belongs to the myth of modernity itself, with Franz Kafka as its most prominent icon. Alaa Alkurdi’s Reverse Privilege unequivocally belongs to the thematic area of forced migration and refugees, whereas the exhibited work group of Nina Werzhbinskaja-Rabinowich allows for an interpretation within that context as 11

Chapter on the “asylum procedure” on the website of the Austrian government: https: //www.oesterreich.gv.at/en/themen/leben_in_oesterreich/asyl/Seite.3210002.html# registration.

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well as for other interpretations. According to the artist herself, the biographical breach of her emigration from the Soviet Union, which happened under similar conditions as in Vadim Kosmatschof’s case, contributed to her insistent return to self-portraiture throughout the decades (Bauer, Oberhollenzer and Traska 2020, 88–89). Still, there is no need to interpret her work under these premises. The partly open contour of the exhibition topic enables artists to identify with refugeeness and migration in various ways, and opens up space of interpretation for visitors: they can interpret the works of art beyond the curatorial concept in various directions according to their own feelings and thoughts, integrating the visual-artistic manifestations of forced migration into a wider cultural landscape. After all, the languages and methods of visual arts can be supportive of such an integration: in genuinely artistic transformations and abstractions from historical and biographical events, and by engaging and specifying certain visual agents such as the mask and the trace.

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lijk-Studies-9-Exile-and-Modernism-Eckmann.pdf. Accessed January 18, 2023. Farago, Jason. 2019. “The Museum is the Refugee’s Home.” The New York Times, August 13, 2019. Fiddian-Qasmiyeh, Elena, Gil Loescher, Katy Long, and Nando Sigona, eds. 2014. The Oxford Handbook of Refugee and Forced Migration Studies. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Flusser, Vilém. 2003. The Freedom of the Migrant: Objections to Nationalism, edited by Anke K. Finger, trans. by Kenneth Kronenberg. Urbana: University of Illinois Press. Frowein, Cordula. 1986. “Mit Pinsel und Zeichenstift ins Exil. Schicksale emigrierter bildender Künstler 1933 bis 1945.“ In Widerstand und Exil 1933–1945, edited by Richard Albrecht, 185–199 Frankfurt am Main et al.: Campus-Verlag. Kahane, Catharina. 2018. Klaus Mosettig: Leros. Handwriting, Negative Handwriting, Planes. Vienna: Schleebrügge. Klimešová, Marie. 2015. Zbyněk Sekal. Řevnice: Arbor vitae. Kragulj, Claudia. 2015. “About Traces of Memories, Talismans and the Freedom to Wonder.” In Erinnerungen—Bilder von 2007–2015, edited by Faek Rasul, 54–58. Vienna: self-published. Krauss, Rosalind. 1977. “Notes on the Index: Seventies Art in America.” Part 1: October 3 (Spring): 68–81; part 2: October 4 (Autumn): 58–67. Krohn, Claus-Dieter, ed. 1992. Künste im Exil (Exilforschung 10). Munich: Ed. Text + Kritik. Miller, Russell. 1998. Magnum: Fifty Years at the Front Line of History. New York: Grove. Rasul, Faek. 2020. Biographical interview by Georg Traska, Vienna, July 6, 2020. Österreichische Mediathek. https://www.mediathek.at/katalogsuc he/suche/detail/?pool=BIBL&uid=751692&cHash=e217daa71131f3b220b145 c6ea24a854. Rathkolb, Oliver. 2017. Fiktion “Opfer” Österreich und die langen Schatten des Nationalsozialismus und der Dollfuß-Diktatur. Innsbruck et al.: StudienVerlag. Sadowsky, Thorsten, ed. 2020. Szenen des Exils. Weitra: Bibliothek der Provinz. Said, Edward. 2002. Reflections on Exile and Other Essays. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2002. Sontag, Susan. 2003. Regarding the Pain of Others. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux.

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Traska, Georg. 2020. “Flucht in der österreichischen Nachkriegsgeschichte/ Refugees in Austrian Post-War History“. In Spuren und Masken der Flucht/ Traces and Masks of Refugees, edited by Christian Bauer, Günther Oberhollenzer, and Georg Traska, 26–37 Vienna: Verlag für Moderne Kunst. Winklbauer, Andrea, ed. 2008. Moderne auf der Flucht: Österreichische KünsterInnen in Frankreich 1938–1945/Les modernes s’enfuient: Des artistes autrichiens en France 1938–1945. Vienna. Turia + Kant.

Modernity’s sacrificial tradition: “The endless screams of my mother” Fazil Moradi

My Şêngâl is crying. Again. For my sisters and brothers, my religion and dignity. Again. The endless screams of my mother have reached Lâlesh. Again, My home is looted and burned. Again. Our elderly and the little ones are beheaded, and the brides and young girls are abducted. Again. I ask myself, why? Mother, where are you? To hold me close to your heart, your child. Mother, Today, it is Fermân, it is Fermân, it is Fermân. Again. Over Mount Şêngâl. Grandmother. It is plunder, it is plunder, it is plunder. Again.

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Ĉîyây (Mount) Şêngâl1 is located in Nineveh province of northwestern Iraq, approximately 32 miles east of the Syrian border. Iraq itself is a name that was institutionalized during the British Empire’s conquest of the country in late August 1921. It replaced the older name, Mesopotamia, known as one of the birthplaces of agriculture, cities, states, writing, literature and radical thought, laws, faith, pictorial narratives, art, aesthetics, architecture, love and absolute imperial violence. Once under the rule of the Neo-Assyrian Empire, Şêngâl later came to be a shifting colony of both the Sasanian and Eastern Roman or Byzantine empires before it became a territory of the ‘Abbâsid Empire in the mid-8th century CE. Indeed, in his larger quest for knowledge, the seventh ‘Abbâsid emperor or calif, Abu al-‘Abbâs ‘Abdûllâ al-Maʾmûn, “dispatched two teams of astronomers, surveyors, and instrument makers to the desert plain of Sinjar, near Mosul, where they took initial readings of the sun’s altitude before setting off in opposite directions, one group heading due north and the other due south” (Lyons 2010, 69). Şêngâl was turned into a militarized zone during the conquest of Iraq—led by the United States and the United Kingdom—in 2003. It has been a zone of global political violence, haunted by the memories of imperialism or the violence of old and new empires, ever since. In these memories, the past and present collapse, keeping the future away and as a surprise. It has been the home of Êzîdîs, Muslims (Sunnis and Shi‘ites) and Christians, and a place of refuge for Armenians who managed to escape the Ottoman Empire’s genocidal violence against Armenians in 1915. Mount Şêngâl, in particular, has been a great refuge for centuries and still seems, to its Êzîdî (Yazidi)2 people, hospitable, stable and eternal. Şêngâl was about to be conquered in the course of the “Islamic State’s” (IS) political and religious violence with the intention of bringing the Êzîdîs as non-Muslim life forms in the greater Şêngâl area to an end. The Islamic State attacked, plundered, burned homes and erased the town of Şêngâl, systematically targeting places that immortalized the Êzîdîs and their collective and public memories. Wrapped in an imperial mission, IS

1 2

It is also known as Sinjâr in Arabic. Birgül Açıkyıldız (2014) offers a historical account of the Êzîdî people. This chapter draws on my anthropological inquiry into modernity’s violence, the genocidal violence in the Kurdistan region of Iraq, and research conducted in 2014–15 on Islamic State’s genocidal/femicidal violence against the Êzîdî people (Moradi 2024; 2022a; 2022b; 2019; 2016; Moradi and Anderson, 2016; Moradi and Moradi 2017).

Fazil Moradi: Modernity’s sacrificial tradition: “The endless screams of my mother”

laid claim to their land and endowed it with religious meaning. In order to realize this mission, it relied on acts of destruction and annihilation, including forced conversion and mass migration from the area. This was the time when thousands of Êzîdîs sought refuge on Mount Şêngâl, which endured in the transgenerational memories of political violence as shelter, more than human witness, and home against loss, dispossession and despair. For many, young and old, women, children and men, Mount Şêngâl turned out to be the last place of refuge. If language and transgenerational memories made it possible for memories of Fermân (order/acts of annihilation) as succussive acts of political violence to travel across time and generations of Êzîdî people in Iraq, Syria, Armenia, Turkey, Germany, France, the United Kingdom, Scandinavia and North America, it was everlasting on Mount Şêngâl in early August 2014. The modern history of Êzîdîs comprises, in large part, memories of mass destruction, annihilation, homelessness, exile and forced migration. These transgenerational memories continue to insist on how centuries after the rise of Islam in the so-called Middle East in the 7th century, Êzîdîs continue to be identified as undesired “non-Muslim infidels, devil-worshipers” and a “dirty people,”3 and as such are subjected to violence. From the 16th to the mid-20th century, Êzîdîs were the target of the Ottoman Empire’s policies of exclusion, assimilation and Fermân. Although Êzîdîs are as heterogeneous as any other human collective in Iraq, there is a shared memory of being identified as the undesired Other, and one that remembers the Islamic State’s violence in the 21st century as the 74th Fermân that has been committed against them as a human collective in Iraq. In the 1970s and 1980s, Êzîdîs became the target of the Arab Socialist Ba‘th Party’s policy of exclusion, assimilation and forced displacement in Iraq. As inhabitants in the Şêngâl area, they were forced into state-controlled settlements, and their children had to attend Arabic-speaking schools until the US-UK imperial conquest of Iraq in 2003. As a researcher, in 2014 I had just arrived from the city of Halle (Saale) in Germany without knowing the extent of the Islamic State’s acts of murder of humans, knowledge, villages and towns, their methods of burning libraries, and the radical destruction of both Mesopotamian and Roman heritage, including mosques, churches and Êzîdî sacred temples and cemeteries. While national and satellite television stations and newspapers had become a stage 3

Yârsânians are another human collective in Iran and Iraq that are identified as “nonMuslim infidels, devil-worshipers” and “dirty people” (see Moradi 2022b).

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for neoliberal career-making experts and the analyses of academics, journalists, activists and politicians about what was happening in the Şêngâl area, photographs, videos and images of destruction were roaming the Internet. Images and information about what was unfolding were constantly circulating on Twitter, Facebook, WhatsApp and YouTube. Slowly, the Êzîdîs, IS, and the endless war against it led to the formation of a Zoroastrian story of good versus evil as well as an everyday spectacle worldwide. This meant that in order to give space to the people who had previously been invisible to the world at large, or to the unthinkable political violence that took place in the Şêngâl area, condemning Êzîdîs to inexistence, the global media had to translate the entire condition into mere images and words or put into play the target people, making them and the acts of violence both visible and invisible. Although Êzîdîs, as the target people, and their daily experiences of and subjection to ongoing political violence were at the center, the Islamic State’s acts of destruction and annihilation became further and further removed from what was put in play. The Êzîdîs’ individual, family, village, district, town and collective lives, which were descending into ruins, were not what could be broadcast or even narrated, let alone their enslavement, rape, suicide and torture unto death. What could not be captured was the loneliness, despair, rape, the incalculable loss, and the conditions of homelessness, dispossession or estrangement that will continue to haunt the Êzîdî people in and beyond Iraq. The global visibility made the Êzîdîs a scene of spectacle, leading simultaneously to the creation of more than one space where Êzîdîs were read both as victims of the IS and as a call for solidarity. In this way, they became visible as a non-Muslim religious minority with a long history or memories of violence in Iraq. In other words, this mediatization put in circulation the transgenerational memories of the other 73 Fermâns—destruction, mass murder, loss, historic deprivation and forced migration—that had remained until then entirely invisible or unknown to the world. If the experience of political modernity is unthinkably traumatic for the Êzîdî people, it was fundamental to the advance of the IS. As a political organization of the 21st century, the IS enjoyed access to global media and digital platforms. It appreciated the World Wide Web as well as global technologies of organizing destruction and violence—the burning of books and humans, destruction of homes, art and heritage. That is to say, the trade in oil was as much of foundational importance to its existence and mission as modern technologies, such as weapons, cars or pick-ups and military drones from the arms in-

Fazil Moradi: Modernity’s sacrificial tradition: “The endless screams of my mother”

dustries of neoliberal democracies. The IS constituted the continuation of political modernity’s sacrificial tradition. This sacrificial tradition reaches back to 1492, which is regarded as the date of birth of the colonial or imperial state and political modernity (Mamdani 2020; Dunbar-Ortiz 2014; Dussel 1995; Marx 1906, 823; Quijano 2000; Grosfoguel 2013; see also Césaire 2000; Deloria 1998; Federici 2004; Gilroy 1993). Political modernity or the imperial commitment to the conquest of land was, at the same time, a commitment to sacrifice in form of murder, massacre and rape, the destruction of spiritual sites and homes, the burning of libraries (Ovenden 2020), the abduction and enslavement of women and children, forced conversion and forced displacement. It precedes and yet remains with us as modernity’s sacrificial tradition in the 21st century. As Joseph Conrad wrote in Heart of Darkness, and which Edward Said cites at length and passionately engages in Culture and Imperialism, “What redeems [the conquest of the earth] is the idea only. An idea at the back of it; not a sentimental pretence but an idea; and an unselfish belief in the idea—something you can set up, and bow down before, and offer a sacrifice to” (quoted in Said 1994, 69). Here, then, as the adverb in the poem, again, testifies, is a condition that the Êzîdî people share with all the peoples that empires or the imperial state turned into bodies to be murdered and raped with impunity, dispossessed of the earth (land and home), history and language (Antoon 2019; Barghouti 2003; Bauman 1989; Butler 2009; Dhillon 2022; Fanon 2004; Ngũgĩ 2009; Hurston 2013; Hinton 2002; Kiernan 2017; Moradi, Buchenhorst, and Six-Hohenbalken 2017; Moses 2004; Murad 2017; Said 2003; Sanford 2004; Six-Hohenbalken 2017; Taniguchi 2020). Sacrificial violence is how the IS forged an arranged marriage between a modern political organization and an unquestioningly religious authority that has been in operation for many years. It made the destruction of Êzîdîs, as a people, acceptable in religious terms in order to justify its imperial mission or political conquest of their land. Like the imperial-colonial state, the IS began with the political translation of religion (Sunnite Islam) to define Êzîdîs as the undesired “infidels, devilworshipers” and “dirty” prior to its actual acts of political violence, which were achieved with advanced technologies of destruction. In other words, the definition of condemning a human collective religiously is in itself constituted through a network that ties political power to military organization and the global arms industry, situating Êzîdîs beyond any legislation and making them the target of murder, torture, rape or enslavement by any IS fighter with impunity. The political translation also transformed the IS into the kind of

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sovereign power that can condemn its targets to inexistence, while suspending or standing outside of all human-made laws, political accountability or ethical responsibility (cf. Agamben 1995). As the target of destruction, the Êzîdîs were made to oscillate between a political and religious sacrifice. They were submitted to planned and strategic acts of annihilation and homelessness or to forced and infinite displacement. Every act of destruction, be it murder, rape or the burning of homes, destruction of religious monuments or sites, and conquest of land, relates to religious condemnation in a way that is determined by the translation of the Qur’ān and the modern political idea or program of building a caliphate in whose name the mobilized IS fighters, among them many enslaved Êzîdî men and children, and the Êzîdî women, men and children and their collective existence had to be sacrificed. This political sacrifice was transformed into a divine call for the IS to come into existence and claim the conquered land as its “abode”. In other words, drawing on a certain translation or interpretation of the Qur’ān and historical events, it used the history of the imperial conquest in the name of Islam to make political violence, such as genocide and femicide, religious acts of sacrifice. In this sense, sacrifice is constitutive of the very existence of the IS and its imperial mission, and thus of absolute and irredeemable violence that is untranslatable or unrepresentable. Sacrificial tradition paved the way for the IS to descend into the political history of barbarism and the Êzîdîs into complete invisibility or an inarticulate inhumanity. In this chapter, I hope to translate and document how I found myself travelling with the poem at the beginning of the chapter with and between Êzîdî children and young men who had sought refuge in an abandoned village, and a mother who is also a grandmother, in a camp where they are defined and controlled as “internally displaced people.” The abandoned village and the camp are both located outside of the city of Zâkho in the Kurdistan Region of Iraq, and both constitute the political acts of dispossession, displacement and policing. These are conditions of modern settlement or worlds of violence that eliminate the possibility of what can be imagined as the afterlives of the Islamic State’s political violence. It shows how the violence targeting Êzîdî people is never over and done with. As the contexts of this research, these are modern sites of living violence that transform me into a traveler whose encounters, conversations, thoughts and ways of living form certain movements and an openness towards memories of sacrificial violence, homelessness, survival and the infinite search for hospitality. It is also a movement from language to acts of political violence,

Fazil Moradi: Modernity’s sacrificial tradition: “The endless screams of my mother”

and to the violence hosted in the bodies of those who speak. As an act of translation, it makes violence pierce the body of the listener, my body or your body, the reader of this text. This is where home loses the possibility of a settled meaning, as one is faced with the human experience of inescapable political violence. Like the poem, the act of speaking of those who are dispossessed is as much tangled with the call for justice as with the absolute violence that makes the listener homeless. This text then testifies to how, when moving, living and listening within this world’s violence, the only possible home is in writing. This writing is also the home of the im/possibility of being at home in political modernity. The violence that happened is invisible and cannot be immediately accessible to translation of any kind, be it linguistic or otherwise. Therefore, language manifests as a turning towards and at the same time a turning away from violence as such. It is our way of seeking to think about, with and through embodied and living violence of political modernity, bearing witness and becoming hostage altogether. What starts with language does not end with language. Borrowing from Ruth Behar (1996, 5), this makes what I understand as anthropological hospitality (Moradi 2024) the most “disturbing and necessary form of witnessing”. Travelling is both fundamental to hospitality and the anthropological enquiry or “a ceaseless quest for knowledge and freedom”, leaving authority, original thinking, uncritical self-appreciation and dogma to the potentate, and “crosses over, traverses territory, and abandons fixed positions, all the time” (Said 2000, 404; 1983, 230). As such, I am always disconnected from the world that has become familiar, only to be at risk, exposed to other people’s lived experiences and transgenerational memories of political violence, dispossession, infinite suffering and homelessness. The possibility of giving myself over to encounters—conversations, memories, histories, an/other language/s, ongoing epistemological mutations—provide no home for refuge, making learning about and listening to the memories of political violence matter or a matter of anthropological hospitality. Travelling, encounters and homelessness as the possibility of anthropological learning and knowledge unsettle the understanding of the post-colonial anthropologist as “functionary,” who, like the potentate, would enjoy “a ready-made thought” (Deleuze and Guattari 1994, 51).

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Homelessness At his sister’s house, made of clay and located in a long-forsaken village, I meet with a young man. He tells me to call him Şêngâlî (lit., from Sinjâr). The village is outside the city of Zâkho, in the Kurdistan Region of Iraq, bordering Türkiye. The village is only populated by Êzîdî women, children and men (young and elderly) who managed to escape IS sacrificial violence. All families here have lost other family members. They have lost their worldly possessions and their land. They reside in abandoned and ruined clay houses. There is no means of livelihood in the village. Nobody here has work in Zâkho or other cities in Kurdistan. Şêngâlî was born in the early 1990s. We sit together with a grandmother, a grandfather, and a father in what could pass as a guestroom. Women and children occupy a second room. The room has white-washed walls. The roof is a careful construction of tree trunks, common reed, and water-resistant nylon. Where the winter rain trickled down the walls, the water has carved out lines in the clay, making it appear as though the walls have been crying for some time. Our meeting was made possible by another young man, Sîvân. He had volunteered to join me and help with meeting ‘important people’. Şêngâlî is a wellknown singer. After the ascent of the IS in the region, he had to take up arms and join the momentum of resistance to sacrificial violence. For a long time he had refused to meet and talk to journalists, and it took days before he agreed to meet with us. At this very moment, none of us can imagine that, soon, more than 300,000 women, children and men, young and old, are to become homeless, fleeing Şêngâl to barely survive. They are yet to know that their homes will be destroyed and their land become the annexed territory of a global network named the IS. They are still to learn that thousands will be annihilated, hundreds massacred and buried in mass graves, thousands captured and forced to convert, with women and girls enslaved. Women will be owned, sold, forced to convert to Islam, marry IS fighters, become pregnant, commit suicide. They do not yet know that some of them will have to leave and cross borders to foreign lands. Some among the Êzîdîs will have to survive the unbearable life on Mount Şêngâl. Yet others will settle in camps dotted with white tents, permanently robbed of all dignity. Still others will dwell in desolate houses, cement skeletal structures under open sky, or seek refuge in long abandoned, depopulated villages. None of us yet dared to tell the children, boys and girls: this homelessness will be endless. The children do not know that some of them will grow up without the infinite love of mothers and fathers, some will become orphans, some will die

Fazil Moradi: Modernity’s sacrificial tradition: “The endless screams of my mother”

of dehydration, some will starve to death, some will be kidnapped, some forced to become suicide bombers and fighters, some forced to convert and marry a future martyr, some forget their siblings and grandparents, some cry for their mother’s lullabies, some learn a new language, some miss their most beautiful school years in their villages, some cut off from all love in the world. The world will become unlike anything Êzîdîs had seen before. The village in ruin is not that far from Mount Şêngâl, surrounded by resistance against armed IS fighters, imagining the creation of an imperial caliphate. In late August 2014, Şêngâlî remains a committed member of the newly established Êzîdî resistance network and is at war with the IS on Mount Şêngâl (Tab. I). The network is made of light guns, smartphones and love. Guns for fighting for land, smartphones for communication, spreading images and videos, helping them to travel the world, and love of family and a collective life form. The clay house is better equipped than the neighboring mosque in ruins, where three other Êzîdî families have sought refuge. “They are escaping starvation, mass rape, massacre, enslavement, forced conversion, decapitation and suicide,” Şêngâlî tells us. “We have had enough. The violence against us is immortal,” Sîvân continues. Sîvân’s love for Iraq has turned into mourning: “I want to leave and never return. It is only now that I realize the fact that we have always been treated as devil-worshippers and dirty people in Iraq.” If he wishes to live, he must leave—Iraq. His home is forever lost. Sîvân goes on to describe his experience, which reaches a long way back, before the ascent of IS fighters. Being an Êzîdî is to be condemned to murder [qatel]. I am never quite Iraqi; my relationship with the Arabic language is not my citizenship; I am more than just Êzîdî; I am not Kurdish; you cannot know what it means to live in a world and among people that tell you and look at you as a member of devil-worshippers and, therefore, a dirty people. Muslims and even Muslim Kurds do not eat what we touch. They think of us as a dirty people. It has always been like that. We are dirty because we are not Muslims and do not want to convert to any other religion. The Islamic State’s violence is still ongoing on Mount Şêngâl as we are talking, and more destruction awaits Êzîdîs in Iraq. Although the distance between poetry or language and political violence cannot be overlooked, in our conversation and in the poem, the IS ceases to be a coincidence. The Êzîdî people in-

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habit a land that is haunted by endless political violence, harkening back to the founding of the caliphate as ‘a new empire’ in Arabia in the 7th century, which in the name of the new religion, Islam, had conquered “much of the territory of the Byzantine Empire and all that of the Sasanian, and extended from central Asia to Spain” (Hourani 2002, 5).

Table 1: Forensic Map of Mount Şêngâl

Courtesy of Forensic Architecture.4

Afterlives? After almost nine years of keeping the poem to myself, I learned that it is difficult not to listen to it, transcribe it, translate it into English, and read it as the living and haunting memories of a lasting sacrificial tradition: “My Şêngâl is crying. Again”. It extends the experiences of violence and an endless call for 4

I thank Ariel Caine for informing me about the Forensic Architecture’s “Maps of Defiance” and for making it possible for me to have it in this chapter.

Fazil Moradi: Modernity’s sacrificial tradition: “The endless screams of my mother”

justice far beyond into an unknowable future. As with the women and children in the same house, the physical presence of Şêngâlî in an abandoned village attested to the conquest of Şêngâl, the murder of a city, the radical interruption of their social ecology there. What Şêngâlî survived, witnessed and carries in him as horror is not within the reach of theological, philosophical, scientific and aesthetic—the beauty and the sublime—inquest. Reciting his poem in Kurmancî Kurdish, as Şêngâlî does, is an intimate relationship to the loss of Şêngâl and the unknowable future of the Êzîdîs. As his only trustful people, we listen carefully to see what the next word, next line, next comma, next question mark, next beginning will say to us inside the guestroom in an abandoned village—world. We are taken away by Again. Şêngâlî takes refuge in recitation, as if he is one of the last remaining survivors, confiding in the words of a language that is also surviving the advancing IS. The letters and words line up a violence and a Şêngâl that none of us in the guestroom can escape. Şêngâl was a place of living and loving with others. The words make the violence against Şêngâl and its inhabitants endless. I listen to Şêngâlî’s recitation, countless times. I gather the existential immediacy of poetic inquest and how it forms a continuum of violence and love. The poem is his way of mourning the loss of human relations and love, while turning into violence itself. Şêngâlî would repeat that no word is able to describe what he has witnessed with his own eyes, heard, felt with his heartbeat, and touched with his own hands. We were left alone on Ĉîyây [Mount] Şêngâl and fought for 11 days without food. At the end we told our families that we have to save some bullets to commit collective suicide before they capture us. We did not want to convert to Islam. I saved three bullets, for my wife, our one-yearold daughter and myself. Mount Şêngâl has become the ultimate place of refuge, resistance and survival. Şêngâlî’s resistance also extended to his commitment not to give up on music and singing: “I can only tell you: I can only sing in Şêngâl.” The poem insists that Mount Şêngâl is a witness to all that have come to live on in the Êzîdîs’ shared memories. The poem is gathered with poise, becoming the vision of a child drowning in incomprehensible violence without end. The world once inhabited, the memories that once made the world inhabitable, the land that was once inhabited and cultivated, the love that was once inhabited and shared, the spiritual and existential worlds of refuge, the cemeteries that were once visited

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are now added to the Islamic State’s abode of Islam. Fermân leaves nothing intact. Fighting for Şêngâl is, then, a struggle of being of and in the world as Êzîdîs. It addresses the violence that is no longer there to be seen and yet never ends. It is becoming answerable to what Şêngâlî carries in himself, what he shares, and what keeps unfolding on Mount Şêngâl. Here, nothing is contingent. Histories of sacrificial violence abound. There are travelling memories across ages and places, peoples, unforgetting graves, unforgiving Şêngâl, the timeless spirituality of Mount Şêngâl. There are no afterlives. The struggle points at a continued movement of relations, love, violence and memories from one generation to others ad infinitum. It grows as a relationship between words and worlds, generations, peoples, humanities. It absorbs them all into itself. With the poem and in it, I find myself travelling from Şingâl to Mount Şêngâl and back to the abandoned village. It carves a running river of violence into my memory, my body. Of Êzîdîs, it only tells a story that is full of violence and endless revolts; and there is no lack of sacrifice. Fermân, the much-travelled word of the Ottoman Empire and its tactile force, is among the summoned words. The poem carries into an unknown future: “Grandmother. It is plunder, it is plunder, it is plunder. Again.”

“Mother, where are you?” In May 2015, a year after our encounter and conversation in the abandoned village, a mother who is also a grandmother tells me, “Şêngâl is no more.” She asks me not to use her name—“it brings me trouble. We keep mourning, my son. There is nothing rhythmical about our ruined life. The ruins do not welcome laughter, my son. Remember that.” She lives with the total loss of her children and grandchildren as well as all women and men of her families. Suddenly, she is a person without family. She spends all day with “wide-open eyes,” waiting at the entrance of a white tent in a new barbed wire camp for “internally displaced people”. As someone who has physically survived the Islamic State’s Fermân, she has become an “internally displaced person”. Everyone in this place of displaced people has lost someone—a mother, a daughter, a brother, a father, a sister, an aunty, an uncle. Like many other mothers and grandmothers in the barbed wire camp, she is waiting for the sudden return of her dear ones or at least the arrival of news of their whereabouts. She is suddenly a lonely Êzîdî woman in a country with an Islamized constitution and a disjointed state. The

Fazil Moradi: Modernity’s sacrificial tradition: “The endless screams of my mother”

white tents, the camp, the barbed wire are not signs of care, empathy or resistance against political violence. The modern saviors were just arriving. People need clean water and food to save them from death; they need electricity and air-conditioning to save them from the merciless heat, and heat to save them from the dry winter cold. “We” need to give them health care. “We” must make sure women are protected, the children do not miss school, have clothes and proper shoes. These were the main “urgent” concerns of representatives of the United Nations International Children’s Emergency Fund, the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees and the Kurdistan Regional government at the Sulaimânî Provincial Council in the city of Sulaimânî days before our (mine and Sîvân’s) meeting with Şêngâlî in the abandoned village. Other registered non-governmental organizations (NGOs) are pouring in from everywhere. The state of Baden-Wuerttemberg in Germany allocated “95 million euros” for its “Special Quota” Humanitarian Admissions Programme to receive one thousand Êzîdî women and children (McGee 2018; Hosseini 2022). Once neighbors in both Şêngâl and the barbed wire camp, a walking distance from each other, Êzîdî women and children now ended up continents apart. Humanitarianism adds to the memories of sacrificial violence, controlling, changing and clearing Şêngâl of its people, and Mount Şêngâl of its neighboring villages. Slowly, the Êzîdîs of Şêngâl are becoming data, statistics, examples of violations of human rights, photographs, films, bodies to be managed and separated from the rest of Iraq by barbed wire. Êzîdîs are encircled with barbed wire to make them feel ‘safe’. And yet the Êzîdîs must wait for food, news, for more Êzîdîs to arrive, permission to leave and enter the camp that is secured with military barbed wire. “Our bodies have survived Dāʿsh (Arabic name of the Islamic State), but these white tents are killing us all,” the mother and grandmother with no family tells me. The camps are carnivores; the white tents have become tombstones to unidentified, buried bodies. The increasing number of camps in response to the growing number of people in search of refuge turn into nameless cemeteries that entomb Êzîdîs. The camps, as global nomos of forced displacement, give way to the bureaucratization, militarization and beautification of Iraq and Kurdistan as marked land of modernity’s sacrificial tradition. Êzîdîs are now defined and treated as “internally displaced people”, thereby erasing the living memories of the ongoing genocidal violence against them. Êzîdîs travel the world and at the same time remain girdled with barbed wire. The camps are breeding both the love of money and wretchedness. The personnel of the NGOs

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stay fairly close to the white tents inside the camps, the barbed wire, the city, bars and restaurants, hotels, air-conditioned shopping malls, and they move about in air-conditioned Land Cruisers. In 2019, almost five years after the Islamic State’s genocidal and femicidal violence, the federal government of Iraq had managed to display its national responsibility by distributing “650 tents” and some barrels of heating oil to women, children and men, old and young, on Mount Şêngâl. For those who stayed, hope and trust lies in building houses on Mount Şêngâl with their own bare hands. The lonely mother and grandmother tells me: No word can carry the weight of what I can voice to your ears. You cannot understand. It is fine. I do not know what to do with what is aflame inside of me. Those hundreds of long bearded men [IS fighters] like an earthquake simultaneously discharged their hatred and anger on us. They called it a divine wrath. ‘You must forget your language, your heart, your history, your spirit, your God. You must prove yourselves worthy of life on earth,’ they roared. Do you understand? Our homes are destroyed and our souls have left us. It is all gone, my son. This white dress you see me wearing is the only thing that has survived with me. Now, Şêngâl survives in her words. Şêngâl is only her words. Şêngâl is only her voice of despair and irredeemable loss. It stays in her heart. Now, Şêngâl remains in the whiteness of her hair. Now, Şêngâl remains in the revolutionary waves of her hands, in the movement of her mourning lips, in the infinite loss of the pursuit of justice on her face, in her infinite memories of all-exterminating, political violence. Now, Şêngâl is all she is left with. Şêngâl is as much about multiple losses as modernity’s sacrificial tradition, including the camp for “internally displaced people”. Though it is made to appear as the ultimate response to sacrificial violence and homelessness, the camp is thoroughly a creation of the same modernity without which the IS cannot be imagined. The camp is sealed off from both Şêngâl and the world at large, forming a continuation of IS violence that shapes the globalized legal calculation of how to manage and control migrants and displaced “refugees” as well as the language of humanitarianism that always narrates the camp as a matter of (legal) necessity. “Either you stay in the camp, or go back to Şêngâl or leave the camp,” was the response to those who made the effort to criticize the living conditions in the camp. The camp is yet another

Fazil Moradi: Modernity’s sacrificial tradition: “The endless screams of my mother”

crystallization of modernity’s sacrificial tradition and as such it is “an absolute space of exception”, a state of siege (Agamben 1995, 20). More camps were assembled around the cities of Dohûk, Erbil and Sulaimânî in the Kurdistan Region of Iraq between 2014 and 2017. Almost nine years after the IS conquest of Şêngâl, the Êzîdî people are still defined and contained within camps as “internally displaced people”, where they continue to be identified as the undesired Other. On February 5, 2023, two children under the age of ten were burned to death, when the two white tents where they lived caught fire. This happened in the Châmîshko camp—a camp for “internally displaced people”—where the mother and grandmother live. This is not the first fire and death, and there is no prospect of ever returning “home.” The Othering of the Êzîdî people as not belonging to one and the same humanity, even as they live in one and the same land or world, cannot be confined to IS imperial political and religious imagination. The definition—“non-Muslims, infidels, devil-worshipers and dirty people”—crystallizes in the fact that the camp is where religious difference or identity is always announced so that radical Othering and self-identification can begin, keeping the Other, Êzîdîs, out or invisible, and celebrating one’s home. It is to the sacrificial violence of this historic and calculated Othering that the poem testifies. There is no offering of hospitality when the Other’s lives are denied or made radically invisible or subjected to destruction. The poem cannot hide the Êzîdîs’ histories and transgenerational memories of Fermân, as it puts us in touch with the impossible experience of hospitality, openness and welcoming. Fermân continues to endanger the Êzîdîs’ lives and haunts their transgenerational memories. The poem wants us to know, or to care, that the radical Othering of Êzîdîs and their struggle for survival is ongoing.

References Açıkyıldız, Birgül. 2014. The Yezidis: The History of a Community, Culture and Religion. London: I.B. Tauris. Agamben, Giorgio. 1995. Homo Sacer: Sovereign Power and Bare Life. Stanford: Stanford University Press. Antoon, Sinan. 2019. The Book of Collateral Damage. (trans. Wright J) New Haven: Yale University Press. Barghouti, Mourid. 2003. I Saw Ramallah. New York: Anchor Books, 2003.

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Bauman, Zigmund. 1989. Modernity and the Holocaust, Ithaca: Cornell University Press. Behar, Ruth. [1996] 1997. The Vulnerable Observer: Anthropology that Breaks your Heart. Boston, MA: Beacon Press. Butler, Judith. 2009. Frames of War: When is Life Grievable. London: Verso. Césaire, Aimé. 2000. Discourse on Colonialism. New York: Monthly Review Press. Deleuze, Gill, and Félix Guattari. 1994. What is Philosophy?. London: Verso. Deloria, Ella.C. 1998. Speaking of Indians. Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press. Dhillon, Jaskiran ed. 2022. Indigenous Resurgence: Decolonialization and Movements for Environmental Justice. Brooklyn: Berghahn Books. Dunbar-Ortiz, Roxanne. 2014. An Indigenous Peoples’ History of the United States. Boston: Beacon Press. Dussel, Enrique. 1995. The Invention of the Americas: Eclipse of “the Other” and the Myth of Modernity. New York: Continuum. Fanon, Franz. 2004. The Wretched of the Earth. New York: Grove Press,. Federici, Silvia. 2004. Caliban and the Witch: Women, The Body and Primitive Accumulation. New York: Autonomedia. Gilroy, Paul. 1993. The Black Atlantic: Modernity and Double Consciousness. London: Verso. Grosfoguel, Ramón. 2013. “The Structure of Knowledge in Westernized Universities: Epistemic Racism/Sexism and the Four Genocides/Epistemicides of the Long 16th Century.” Human Architecture 11, no.1: 73–90. Hinton, Alexander L. ed. 2002. Annihilating Difference: The Anthropology of Genocide. Berkeley: University of California Press. Hosseini, Behnaz S. 2022. Trauma and the Rehabilitation of Trafficked Women: The Experiences of Yazidi Survivors. London: Routledge. Hourani, Albert. [1991] 2002. History of the Arab Peoples. New York: Warner Books. Hurston, Zora.N. 2013.Their Eyes were Watching God. New York: Harper Perennial Modern Classics. Kiernan, Ben. 2007. Blood and Soil: A World History of Genocide and Extermination from Sparta to Darfur. New Haven: Yale University Press. Lyons, Jonathan. 2010. The House of Wisdom: How Arab learning transformed Western civilization. New York: Bloomsbury Press. Mamdani, Mahmood. 2020. Neither Settler Nor Native: The Making and Unmaking of Permanent Minorities. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press,. Marx, Karl. 1906 [1867]. Capital: A Critique of Political Economy. New York: The Modern Library.

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McGee, Thomas. 2018. “Saving the survivors: Yezidi women, Islamic State and the German Admissions Programme.” Kurdish Studies 6, no.1: 85–109. Moradi, Fazil. 2016. “The Force of Writing in Genocide: On Sexual Violence in the Al-Anfal and Beyond.” In Gender Violence in Peace and War: States of Complicity, edited by Sanford, Victoria, Stefatos Katarina, and Salvi Cecilia, 102–115. New Brunswick: Rutgers University Press. Moradi, Fazil. 2019. “Un Translatable Death, Evidentiary Bodies: After—Auschwitz, Murambi.” Critical Studies 4: 148–173. Moradi, Fazil. 2022a. “Catastrophic Art.” Public Culture 34, no. 2: 243–264. Moradi, Fazil. 2022b. “The Political and Juridical Erasure of Yārī and Yārsānians in Iran and Iraq.” In Yari Religion in Iran, edited by Behnaz Hosseini, 1–12. London: Palgrave Macmillan. Moradi, Fazil. 2024. Being Human: Political Modernity and Hospitality. New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press. Moradi Fazil., and Anderson, Kjell. 2016. “The Islamic State’s Êzîdî Genocide in Iraq: The Sinjār Operations.” Genocide Studies International 10, no. 2: 121–138. Moradi, Fazil, and Moradi, Hawar. 2017. ”Can the President of the Kurdistan Region of Iraq Cry: On Justice to Come?” In Language — Migration — Cohesion: Kurdish and its Diaspora, edited by Brizić, Katharina, Grond Agnes, Osztovics Christoph, Thomas Schmidinger, and Maria Six-Hohenbalken, 195–205. Wien: Praesens Verlag. Moradi, Fazil, Buchenhorst, Ralph, and Maria Six-Hohenbalken eds. 2017. Memory and Genocide: On What Remains and the Possibility of Representation. London: Routledge. Moses, Dirk ed. 2004. Genocide and Settler Society: Frontier Violence and Stolen Indigenous Children in Australian History. New York: Berghahn Books. Murad, Nadia, with Krajeski, Jenna. 2017. The Last Girl: My Story of Captivity and My Fight against the Islamic State. New York: Tim Duggan Books. Ngũgĩ Wa Thiong’o. 2009. Something Torn and New: An African Renaissance. New York: BasicCivitas Books. Ovenden, Richard. 2020. Burning the Books: A History of the Deliberate Destruction of Knowledge. London: John Murray. Quijano, Aníbal. 2000. “Coloniality of Power, Eurocentrism, and Latin America.” Nepantla: View from the South 1, no.3: 533–580. Said, Edward W. 1983. The World, the Text, and the Critic. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Said, Edward W. 1994. Culture and Imperialism. New York: Vintage Books.

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Said, Edward W. 2000. Reflections on Exile: and Other Essays. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Said, Edward W. 2003. Orientalism. London: Penguin Classics. Sanford, Victoria. 2004. Buried Secrets: Truth and Human Rights in Guatemala. New York: Palgrave Macmillan. Six-Hohenbalken, Maria. 2017. “Remembering the Poison Gas Attack on Halabja: Questions of Representations in the Emergence of Memory on Genocide.” In Memory and Genocide: On What Remains and the Possibility of Representation, edited by Fazil Moradi, Ralph Buchenhorst, and Maria Six-Hohenbalken, 75–90. London: Routledge. Taniguchi, Sumiteru. 2020. The Atomic Bomb on My Back: A Life Story of Survival and Activism. Montpelier: Rootstock Publishing.

Roma and the war against Ukraine Stephan Müller

Introduction The Russian war of aggression against Ukraine, which violates international law, affects the Roma in Ukraine just as much as any other people. However, their vulnerability and discrimination may cause them to feel some effects of the war more severely, just like other vulnerable groups, especially if resources become scarcer as the war continues.1 However, Russia’s war of aggression and annihilation has also led to the majority of Roma feeling obliged to defend Ukraine and support the fight against Russia. Since they are attacked just like ethnic Ukrainians and also see themselves as “Ukrainians”, many Roma fight in the Ukrainian army, while others organize humanitarian aid or support Ukraine’s struggle in other ways. The Roma’s engagement and support to the Ukrainian cause often remains unrecognized by majority society and decision-makers, as it contradicts the prevalent stereotypes and prejudices. This phenomenon also could be found among other minorities in Ukraine (Szabo and Fegyir 2022; Federal Union of European Nationalities 2022). The Russian war of aggression, therefore, achieved an amalgamation of minorities with the Ukrainian majority population instead of a division of society. Politics and society both in Ukraine and at international level have to recognize the diverse support provided by minorities such as the Roma. This could pave the way for Roma to be considered as an integral part of Ukrainian society, granting them the broadest possible minority rights. The post-war recognition of the Roma will also determine the opportunity of refugees to return and be accepted at equal footing by society. The identification of the Roma with Ukraine may seem surprising at first glance, especially when considering 1

This chapter is based on research finished in October 2022.

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the widespread antigypsyism in Ukraine before the Russian war of aggression, as is the case in all countries.2 There were violent attacks by right-wing radicals, while the majority of Roma in Ukraine experienced discrimination and social exclusion in almost all areas of life. This was most evident in the segregated settlements where Roma not only lived apart from the majority population but mostly without access to public infrastructure. People in segregated settlements are not only physically segregated from the rest of society but are also not even seen as part of society, as politics leave them on their own with hardly any investments to improve their situation. There have also been instances of discrimination and attacks on Roma during the war. In Lviv, Roma accused of looting were fixed to streetlight poles to be beaten and sprayed with color. Others were discriminated when they were fleeing from attacked areas or in the distribution of humanitarian aid. Due to the war, even more acts of violence or discrimination might have remained unreported. In order to comprehend the situation of Roma and Roma refugees, it is important to understand that “the Roma” in Ukraine are not a homogeneous group. Instead the approximately 400,000 Roma in Ukraine consist of several different groups that differ according to many criteria (Fremlova 2022). The host societies must also be aware of the diversity of Roma and Romni in Ukraine. After all, there are Hungarian-speaking Roma from the Transcarpathian oblast in eastern Ukraine and not accuse them of not being war refugees from Ukraine at all because they speak Hungarian. Unfortunately, the public perception of Roma in Ukraine and the countries receiving refugees focuses on those Roma who are recognized as Roma by majority society, as they meet certain stereotypes and prejudices. While the diversity of Roma is neglected, particularly the many Roma who do not meet these stereotypes and could instead break with them remain invisible in public perception. These Roma generally do not appear in the media or public discourse

2

Antigypsyism is a historically constructed, persistent complex of customary racism against social groups identified under the stigma ‘gypsy’ or other related terms, and incorporates: (1) a homogenizing and essentializing perception and description of these groups; (2) the attribution of specific characteristics to them and (3) discriminating social structures and violent practices that emerge against that background, which have a degrading and ostracizing effect and which reproduce structural disadvantages. See Alliance Against Antigypsyism (2017).

Stephan Müller: Roma and the war against Ukraine

as if they do not exist. The media and public discourse, in fact, are hardly interested in acknowledging their existence and accepting them as Roma. When it comes to decisions on general policies that also affect the everyday life of Roma in Ukraine or the lives of refugees, the Roma are hardly consulted and the impact of these policies on their life hardly considered. In the policy discourse—be it at the national or international level—we can also find this pattern of ignoring Roma as participants to this discourse or their specific situation as a topic in this discourse. Knowing the social situation and diversity of Roma in Ukraine and being aware of the consequences of antigypsyism are fundamental to understanding the situation of Roma refugees in countries like Germany, Poland, the Czech Republic or Hungary—especially, if the authorities in charge wish to plan and implement a variety of support and integration measures for refugees. These measures must take into account that many Roma refugees arrive with experiences of antigypsyism, just as many ethnic Ukrainian refugees have brought their antigypsyism with them. Antigypsyism also exists in receiving countries and is especially directed at those Roma who are identified as Roma both by Ukrainian refugees and the receiving society. In short, any support and integration measures also have to take antigypsyism into account. Moreover, support measures need to consider the socio-economic situation of Roma as well as the fact that many Roma fled in larger family groups due to security concerns. A survey of Roma refugees from the Czech Republic shows, for example, that in 20% of the households surveyed, all adults are illiterate; in addition, 78% of school-age refugee children do not attend school in the Czech Republic (Ryšavý 2022h). Finally, it is important to prevent the “negative instrumentalization” of Roma, as has already happened to a certain degree in the Czech Republic, but also in Germany. Hate speech and the defamation of Roma are apparently not only used to drive Roma refugees out of the country, but also to delegitimize an otherwise generous willingness to accept refugee policies by not recognizing Roma as real war refugees.

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On the situation in Ukraine General situation of Roma in Ukraine The Roma have been living on the territory of present-day Ukraine since the 15th century. According to the 2001 census, 47,600 people identified themselves as Roma. According to estimates, however, up to 400,000 Roma live in Ukraine (Tsviliy 2022). The largest group lives in the Transcarpathian oblast, with about 14,000 people according to the census; according to the NGO Chirikli, there are up to 70,000 in this oblast. However, Roma live in almost all parts of the country. In the Donetsk and Odessa oblasts, for example, the number is estimated at 20,000 each (ibid 2022). As in most countries, “the Roma” in Ukraine are not a homogeneous group (Fremlova 2022). There rather are considerable differences in terms of language, history, culture, tradition, religion, occupation of the ancestors or time of settlement. The historical affiliation of their respective areas of residence has been playing an important role to this day. The situation of the Roma in the Transcarpathian region may serve as an example. As the region once belonged to Hungary, it is still home to a larger Hungarian minority. The history of this region still determines the language, culture, and life of many Roma today. Many speak Hungarian as their first or second language, while their culture and traditions are influenced by their history, and many children attend Hungarian-language schools, albeit often segregated schools.3 Furthermore, many Roma in this region have Hungarian passports in addition to their Ukrainian ones, as is the case with members of other ethnic groups in Transcarpathia.

The Roma in the war of aggression against Ukraine The majority of Roma support the government and Armed Forces of Ukraine in their struggle for Ukraine’s survival. Many Roma feel obliged to fight for their homeland Ukraine (Polianska 2022a). According to Roma organizations, many 3

Many Roma children, in particular in Transcarpathia, are sent to segregated schools with exclusively or predominantly Roma students. These schools are generally of lower quality.

Stephan Müller: Roma and the war against Ukraine

Roma volunteered to join the Armed Forces, and thousands of Roma are fighting against the Russian aggressors (Prokopenko 2022). Even from the west of Ukraine, which has not yet experienced any fighting, many Roma come to fight on the front lines in eastern Ukraine. The Ministry of Defence of Ukraine also portrayed a Roma on its Facebook page, who already fought in the Armed Forces in 2014 and now voluntarily rejoined the Ukrainian army.4 The Roma also support the fight against the aggressors in many other ways (Polianska 2022e). The Roma-run NGO “Chirikli”, for example, distributes humanitarian aid, especially daily hot meals to the needy—Roma and non-Roma, e.g. in Kharkiv, Odessa or other cities. These actions are also supported (financially) by Roma organizations in other countries. The Roma in western Ukraine support displaced people from eastern Ukraine, who have found refuge in the country’s western regions (Polianska 2022b). Music groups give benefit concerts in support of the Ukrainian army or for humanitarian aid (Polianska 2022d). Even the U.S.-based musician Eugene Hütz, whose mother is a Romni from Ukraine, gave a concert for soldiers of the Ukrainian Armed Forces and is involved in other support campaigns. Little information is available about the situation of Roma in the areas of Ukraine occupied by Russian units. In Izyum, in the Kharkiv region, according to Chirikli, the representative of the local Roma community was allegedly murdered by Russian troops after refusing to support them on April 3, 2022. From Kakhovka, a town located in the Kherson region, there is an account of the situation of Roma during the Russian attack and occupation, which shows that the Roma were targeted just as anyone else by Russian attackers (Polianska 2022c). Unfortunately, violent attacks on Roma also occurred in western Ukraine during the war. Roma organizations in Ukraine have been calling upon responsible authorities to investigate and prosecute these incidents. Such acts of violence must not go unpunished even in times of war and must be politically condemned. It cannot be ruled out that more attacks occurred, as not all attacks are reported and there are often no verifiable statements on possible attacks. Moreover, these acts of violence and discrimination stand against the backdrop of attacks by neo-Nazis and right-wing radicals against Roma not only before the war but also in the course of centuries of antigypsyism. 4

Facebook page of the Ministry of Defence of Ukraine. July 1, 2022. https://www.facebo ok.com/MinistryofDefence.UA

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Discrimination against Roma by public authorities and private individuals was also reported during the war. In the Transcarpathian region, a police officer had reportedly called for Roma to be expelled from the region or to find other countries to host them (Markusová 2022). The incident was reported to the Ombudsperson and the Human Rights Department of the Ukrainian Police. There are conflicting reports about access to humanitarian aid. While in general, it is reported that Roma have access to humaniatrian aid, there are also reports on discrimination when accessing humanitarian aid (Polianska 2022c). The lack of identification documents of many Roma could also lead to additional discrimination. In the Chernihiv region, for example, humanitarian aid was reportedly only given out upon presentation of a passport, and Roma who could not show documents did not receive aid (Markusová 2022). Roma NGOs protested against this form of discrimination to the competent authorities. Many Roma who have remained in Ukraine find their access to food and other necessary non-food items as becoming increasingly difficult. The Russian attacks make it more difficult to provide food and send humanitarian aid to the contested regions; in addition, we can assume that the prices of many products will continue to rise, making it more and more difficult for poorer people to secure supplies. Another problem they are facing is how to organize their escape from Ukraine, when they cannot find any transport. According to a survey commissioned by UN WOMEN in Ukraine, the Roma in Ukraine testified to discriminatory practice when looking for accommodation, are poorly informed about assistance, and lack the necessary papers to flee across the border.5

Internally displaced Roma in Ukraine Several thousand Roma from eastern Ukraine were displaced by the Russian aggressors back in 2014 and have been living as internally displaced persons (IDPs) in other parts of Ukraine ever since (IRF 2015). Starting in February 2022, more and more Roma, especially from eastern Ukraine, have been experiencing the same. 5

UN Women—Krieg für Frauen und Minderheiten verheerend, May 4, 2022, see also https://www.evangelisch.de/inhalte/200637/04-05-2022/un-women-krieg-fuer-fra uen-und-minderheiten-ukraine-verheerend

Stephan Müller: Roma and the war against Ukraine

The situation is often particularly difficult for internally displaced persons, as they are often unable to take anything with them when they flee. Many internally displaced Roma are housed in emergency shelters. As the Ukrainian authorities intend to return emergency shelters such as schools to their original purpose, new accommodation must also be built or found for IDPs. It will be necessary to ensure that new housing is also provided for the displaced Roma. Internally displaced Roma are often cut off from the flow of information on possible aid for IDPs or deliberately not informed (UN WOMEN 2022). According to NGOs, they have occasionally not been included in humanitarian aid programs or have been subjected to discrimination in the distribution of humanitarian aid. In early summer 2022, the Roma NGO Chirikli conducted a survey among more than 1,100 internally displaced Roma in the regions of Transcarpathia and Odessa. The results provide insight into the situation of internally displaced Roma and identifies areas of intervention to improve their situation, despite the differences in the situation in the two regions (Chirikli 2022a; Chirikli 2022b). A large share of those displaced have found accommodation with other Roma. Although this may be understood as a sign of great solidarity in the community, it may also indicate that internally displaced Roma do not want to go to official reception centers or are not welcome there. However, a considerable share of internally displaced Roma in Transcarpathia are housed in church institutions, schools or hostels, which does not constitute a long-term solution. In general, the survey indicates considerable differences, not only in terms of accommodation. While in the Odessa region, 96% of respondents receive some form of social support, and 80% receive monthly support as IDPs, the latter is only true for 36% in Transcarpathia. More than half of the respondents feel comfortable in the receiving region, although a third of them had also experienced prejudice against Roma, when they came into contact with public authorities or were looking for work. About a third of the respondents confirmed that their house had been destroyed or damaged during the war, yet the majority of respondents had no knowledge of the condition of their house at the time of the interview. Approximately 20% of them lost their papers, such as their passport or birth certificate, during the war. Among their most urgent needs are food (Odessa 25%, Transcarpathia 23%) and support in accessing missing documents (Odessa 23%, Transcarpathia 18%). There is a big difference in the need for financial support, which was mentioned by 1% of the respondents in Odessa and 26% in Transcarpathia. There is also great need for legal assistance. The survey showed that the over-

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whelming majority of respondents refuses to leave Ukraine despite the poor overall situation (Odessa 75%, Transcarpathia 71%) (Chirikli 2022a; Chirikli 2022b). Considering the coming winter (2022/23) with low temperatures, expected energy shortages and an even more difficult supply situation, it cannot be ruled out that many will nonetheless leave Ukraine.

Survivors of the Nazi genocide Several hundred Roma and Romni survivors of the Nazi genocide of Sinti and Roma are still alive in Ukraine. A few survivors fled Ukraine or took advantage of evacuation opportunities. Most Roma in Ukraine who survived Nazi persecution, however, do not want to leave Ukraine, although offers of evacuation exist. Due to its historic responsibility, German ministries, authorities and institutions as well as many organizations of civil society are committed to helping the survivors of the genocide, e.g., assistance and evacuation schemes for survivors. Roma survivors, for example, are supported within the framework of programs operated by the Foundation Remembrance, Responsibility and Future (EVZ).6 The initiative “Hilfsnetzwerk für Überlebende der NS Verfolgung in der Ukraine” (Support Network for Survivors of Nazi Persecution in Ukraine) was launched in Germany and also supports Roma survivors.7 To this end, Roma civil society organizations in Ukraine such as ARCA, together with the Central Council of German Sinti and Roma, have identified further survivors and provided them with humanitarian assistance.

Short review: Situation of the Roma before the war Antigypsyism in Ukraine The Roma in Ukraine face the same problems as all Roma in Europe. Widespread antigypsyism, which also led to acts of violence against Roma in the years before the war. In 2018 and 2019, several attacks against Roma were recorded, in particular in western Ukraine and primarily by right-wing,

6 7

Stiftung Erinnerung, Verantwortung, Zukunft (Foundation Remembrance, Responsibility and Future). https://www.stiftung-evz.de/en/ Hilfsnetzwerk für Überlebende der NS Verfolgung in der Ukraine (Support Network for Survivors of Nazi Persecution in Ukraine) https://hilfsnetzwerk-nsverfolgte.de/

Stephan Müller: Roma and the war against Ukraine

extremist groups who attacked entire families or even settlements. Law enforcement and juridical authorities did not always act with due consistency (ERRC 2020). On June 23, 2018, a group of men armed with knives stormed a Roma tent camp. They demanded that the Roma leave the camp and destroyed the tents and Roma property. The men also attacked the Roma and murdered David Popp, a 24-year-old man, and wounded four others, including a tenyear-old boy. In this case, however, according to the European Roma Rights Centre, police responded appropriately and arrested eight people. Not only violence but also discrimination was widespread. Although there were regional differences, a large share of Roma were excluded from mainstream society and lived in segregated, often informal settlements without access to infrastructure. Many were unemployed, without vocational training, often had no documents, and faced discrimination in all areas of life, such as school, health care, the workplace or simply on the street. In 2015, according to a report, 24% of Roma respondents had not attended school; 16% had only completed primary school and 37% had not finished secondary school. At the same time, 63% of respondents were unemployed—the unemployment rate skyrocketed to 83% among women—and another 22% worked only intermittently.8 In May 2021, then Commissioner for Human Rights of the Ukrainian Parliament, Liudmyla Denisov, confirmed that the Roma in Ukraine are discriminated against in a variety of fields. Roma face discrimination when trying to obtain social benefits (including support for people of low incomes) or, when accessing health care services. The specific situation of children in the school system is neglected; especially considering that many children do not know Ukrainian or the Ukrainian alphabet when they start school. They face ethnic discrimination on the labor market, while public authorities provide insufficient information about their rights as Ukrainian citizens.9 The list of areas of discrimination could easily be extended. As one fundamental problem, many Roma still do not have all the necessary documents they need (from birth certificates to passports). This contributes or reinforces their discrimination and social exclusion, and has been proving problematic for people to leave Ukraine or enter another country.

8 9

Roma Early Years Network (REYN) 2015. Website of REYN Ukraine. https://reyn.eu/na tional_networks/ukraine/ Almanac, Kyiv. International Forum on Roma Inclusion 2021. https://rm.coe.int/alman ac-engl-09-09-21-a4/1680a3c848

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Many children do not attend school, in many cases because their parents do not have documents for them, they experienced antigypsyism, were sent to special schools or special classes for children with disabilities, or had to attend segregated classes of poor quality for Roma. In segregated settlements, girls in particular do not attend school at all, only sporadically, or only for a few years. In one such case of segregation, the municipality of Uzhhorod in western Ukraine was convicted by a court of second instance in late April 2022 (ERRC 2022b). A mother had filed a complaint because her child was forced to attend a segregated school exclusively for Roma children, which was poorly equipped and with a less demanding curriculum. Needless to say, the mother wanted the best possible education for her child. The court ruled in her favor in second instance. A small sign that the rule of law could still function in Ukraine even during times of war. This exclusion of many children from the school system in Ukraine as well as the lack of vocational training for women will also affect the inclusion of Roma refugees.

Active civil society and successful Roma On the other hand of everything described above, there was already an active Roma community in Ukraine in the pre-war period. Roma civil society was active in many areas, especially in education, youth work, and monitoring the human rights situation of the Roma. They were active in urging the central government and local authorities to address the issues of antigypsyism and discrimination, and to improve the inclusion of Roma in society. Moreover, Ukraine was also home to many successful Roma with an education and jobs who did not hide their identities: elected members of city councils, lawyers, doctors, priests, business people, musicians, artisans etc. The many male and female students show that the Roma in Ukraine are a highly diverse community.

Refugees from Ukraine The neighboring countries Poland, Slovakia, Hungary, Romania, and Moldova were of course the first countries to receive refugees from Ukraine. A large number of these refugees, however, went on to countries such as the Czech Re-

Stephan Müller: Roma and the war against Ukraine

public and Germany, which is possible under the European Union’s Temporary Protection Directive. (European Commission 2022). In early March 2022, the European Union activated the Temporary Protection Directive, which is initially valid for one year and determines, among other things, entitlements to accommodation and access to the labor market. In principle, the Temporary Protection Directive should also apply to persons from Ukraine who have never had documents. Although the directive does not explicitly exclude these people, it does not explicitly refer to them either; just as it does not address the situation of Ukrainian citizens with dual citizenship. The Temporary Protection Directive, therefore, does not address two specific situations that apply to many Roma refugees. However, there are obvious differences between individual countries in terms of their willingness to receive Ukrainian refugees in the long term. It seems that some countries have facilitated, if not directly supported, the onward travel to other countries. In Hungary, for example, there is a huge discrepancy between the number of arriving refugees and the number of refugees from Ukraine actually received by Hungary. According to UNHCR data, 1.589 million people from Ukraine had arrived in Hungary by mid-October 2022, but only 30,000 were registered under Temporary Protection (UNHCR 2022). In comparison, there were far more refugees registered in other immediately neighboring countries. According to UNHCR, in Romania, out of 1.391 million refugees, 74,000 persons were registered under Temporary Protection (in total, over 83,000 refugees from Ukraine are registered); in Slovakia, out of 867,000 arriving refugees, 97,737 were registered; in Poland, 1,449 million out of 6.947 million arriving refugees were registered under the Temporary Protection Regime. In Moldova, where the EU Directive on Temporary Protection does not apply, more than 94,000 of the 660,000 people arriving from Ukraine were registered as refugees. Within the European Union, as of October 8, there were about 815,000 refugees registered under Temporary Protection in Germany, 160,000 in Italy, 148,000 in Spain, and 105,000 in France; the Baltic States accommodated 68,000 in Lithuania, 41,000 in Latvia, and 37,000 in Estonia. The United Kingdom registered about 138,000 refugees (UNHCR 2022).

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On the situation of Roma refugees The exact number of Roma refugees is unknown but we can assume around 100,000 Roma to have fled Ukraine; this would mean that about a quarter of the Roma population of Ukraine left the country (EU Neighbours East 2022). It is equally difficult to determine how many Roma have found long-term refuge in their respective host countries. As men between 18 and 60 years of age are only allowed to leave Ukraine under certain conditions, the refugees are mainly comprised of women and children, and their special protection needs as refugees must be guaranteed. Many Roma from Ukraine either do not have any or at least not all the necessary documents. According to information from the European Roma Rights Center (ERRC), Ukrainian border authorities have been preventing Roma from leaving the country because they could not present all required documents (ERRC 2022a). This can also lead to problems in receiving Temporary Protection Grants in host countries. However, it is not possible to determine how many people have been prevented from fleeing or entering another country as a result. Another general problem is that many Roma—as well as ethnic Hungarians or Ukrainians from the Transcarpathian region in Ukraine—are both Hungarian and Ukrainian nationals. In recent years, the Hungarian government probably granted about one million citizenships to people in Ukraine, Romania, Serbia, Slovakia, etc. who live in areas that once belonged to Hungary or whose ancestors once had Hungarian citizenship. Before the war, the Hungarian passport enabled them to travel freely and work within the European Union. Today dual citizenship seems to have become their undoing, as examples from the Czech Republic and Germany show. Refugees with dual citizenship are neither entitled to protection under the EU Temporary Protection Directive, nor can they apply for asylum, as Hungarian citizenship takes precedence over Ukrainian citizenship. Given the flexibility of EU Member States in accepting refugees from Ukraine, it remains surprising that, in view of the millions of refugees from Ukraine, the few dual citizens who have been living in Ukraine all their lives until the war cannot claim support. Especially in the first weeks of the war, support for those who had fled—including Roma—was mainly organized and provided by volunteers and not by the state. The Roma refugees also experienced discrimination from volunteers;

Stephan Müller: Roma and the war against Ukraine

the care and support of Roma refugees was occasionally also delegated to Roma organizations in host countries. Cases of discrimination and the shifting of responsibility to Roma organizations in host countries continued even when state structures took over the management of reception, accommodation and care of refugees, which also entailed the responsibility of the state for any discrimination. On the other hand, tens of thousands of Roma refugees have received support. With the exception of the attitude of Czech authorities towards Hungarian-speaking Roma from Ukraine (see below), it seems difficult to speak of systematic or structural discrimination against Roma refugees. A different picture might emerge, however, if the situation of people who are read as Roma by volunteers or state structures is examined more closely, as they fit the stereotypes and prejudices. Antigypsyism exists in all host countries and directly or indirectly affects all Roma refugees from Ukraine. A good illustration of antigypsyism became apparent when the Roma as a group were accused of not being war refugees, but to have instead come to the host countries for the only purpose of abusing social aid made available to refugees. Roma from the Transcarpathian region in western Ukraine, who often speak Hungarian, were used a scapegoats for stirring up racism, whether they had dual citizenship or not. In social or traditional media as well as from irresponsible politicians, the Roma were either denounced as not being from Ukraine but from Hungary or from western part of Ukraine and, therefore, were not entitled to be treated as refugees. The only reason they came was allegedly take advantage of the social system in the host country. Two more practices, particularly in the media, complement this antigypsyist denouncing of the Roma: the one practice involves exaggerating incidents involving people read as Roma, blaming them for everything, and in conflicts accusing all Roma of being the same as a group that “cannot integrate”; the other practice only reports on Roma who meet the stereotypes without mentioning any other Roma. Western media, for example, hardly report on Roma who voluntarily joined the Armed Forces of Ukraine, while their families might have fled to western Europe, or about Roma academics who fled to western Europe; these Roma remain invisible. When politicians utter such antigypsyist statements, they not only seek to gain votes from the right-wing electorate but also pursue two more purposes: on the one hand, they wish to restrict the general admission of refugees, while

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on the other hand deliberately trying to deport any Roma refugees arriving in their country. This antigypsyist narrative went hand in hand with tighter asylum legislation in Germany in the early 1990s (amendment to Article 16 German Basic Law), when many Roma from Romania and Bulgaria applied for asylum. The same also happened in the years before 2015 (Asylkompromiss/Asylum Compromise), when Roma from the Western Balkans claimed asylum in Germany. In both cases, the respective tightening of asylum legislation and policies was preceded by denouncing Roma refugees in Germany as “economic refugees” or “social tourists”. We have seen similar mechanisms of abusing Roma or Roma-related groups in order to restrict their freedom of movement, limit their access to asylum, or tighten refugee policies in general. In recent decades, this has been especially true of France against Roma from Romania, Italy against Roma from the countries of former Yugoslavia or Romania, and Turkey against Dom or Abdal people from Syria.10

Brief overview of the situation of Roma refugees in selected countries The information in this section can only offer some insight into the situation of Roma refugees, as comprehensive research on the situation of Roma refugees has not been carried out in all countries.

Poland According to a report on the situation of Roma refugees from Ukraine in Poland (Mirga-Wójtowicz, Talewicz, and Kołaczek 2022), the Ukrainian Roma experience discrimination that other refugees do not, ranging from verbal abuse to exclusion from services available to other refugees, e.g. accommodation, transport, employment opportunities, material support or access to schools, but also with regard to access to information as well as legal or psychological counselling. The Roma refugees are primarily supported by the greater Roma community. Although civil society organizations in majority society hardly ever dis-

10

Dom or Abdal are Roma-related groups in Middle Eastern countries. During the war in Syria, tens of thousands of them left the country and found refuge in neighboring countries, particularly in Turkey.

Stephan Müller: Roma and the war against Ukraine

criminate against Roma, they usually turn directly to Roma organizations as soon as they have to deal with Roma refugees. Even the local government institutions mostly turn to Roma organizations. This practice poses great challenges to Roma civil society organizations. There are hardly any national measures in place to improve the reception and accommodation of Roma refugees or to avoid potential discrimination. Most Roma refugees left their country in larger groups of women, children and elderly, and wish to find accommodation together for several reasons: first, they were subjected to antigypsyism not only back in Ukraine but also upon their arrival in Poland; second, they are traumatized from experiencing war, fleeing, and being separated from family members; third, they are concerned about their survival in a foreign country. This might be challenging in terms of transportation and accommodation but certainly intensifies any stereotypes and prejudice.

Germany It is difficult to determine how many Roma refugees Germany has taken in, but it is probably a five-digit number. The Roma refugees arrived in Germany from Poland, from Hungary via Austria or Slovakia, or from Hungary or Slovakia via the Czech Republic. Among the Roma who first fled to Hungary or Slovakia, a part seems to be Hungarian-speaking Roma from Transcarpathia or Roma with dual citizenship. As Ukrainian citizens, they would have had access to support measures under the Temporary Protection Regime. In the case of dual Ukrainian-Hungarian citizenship, however, Hungarian citizenship takes precedence, which is why refugees with dual citizenship are generally not entitled to the Temporary Protection or asylum, even if they had never lived in Hungary. As Hungary has not ratified the European Convention on Social and Medical Assistance, they are not entitled to any other forms of support as Hungarian citizens. In other words, refugees with dual citizenship depend on the goodwill of the respective local government to receive accommodation and care, or at least access to health services. What we can certainly observe in Germany (as well as in the Czech Republic, see below) is the either ignorance or intention of denying Roma with dual citizenship as well as Hungarian-speaking Roma the status of “war refugees”. This practice is also found with regard to Roma from western Ukraine who do not speak Hungarian, claiming that if there is no war, there cannot be war refugees. These instances of defamation only apply to Roma refugees, although

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they are often intended to generally restrict the admission of refugees, i.e. by appealing to antiziganist attitudes in the population in order to demand a generally different policy. Especially in Thuringia, for example, the situation has come to a head with right-wing radicals trying to dominate the discourse since the summer of 2022 (Ayyadi 2022). There has also been discrimination against Roma and Romni refugees in Germany, even if we cannot speak of systematic discrimination (Meldeund Informationsstelle Antiziganismus MIA 2022). According to reports, Ukrainian Roma were accommodated separately from other Ukrainian refugees and subjected to discrimination in accommodations; in addition, there were conflicts between the two groups in shared accommodations.11 In Mannheim, Roma refugees were not allowed in common areas for Ukrainian refugees; in Dresden, Roma and Romni refugees were not allowed to leave the train even though they were expected there; volunteers also reported discrimination against Roma refugees by other volunteers at the main train station in Berlin. In addition, there have been one-sided media reports on the misbehavior of a few Roma, but not about the overwhelming majority of unproblematic Roma refugees from Ukraine.12 Many German civil society organizations and individuals are involved in supporting refugees. Moreover, numerous organizations of Sinti and Roma are active in this regard, supporting Roma on their journey to Germany, in their search for accommodation, or with counselling. The Documentation and Cultural Centre of the German Sinti and Roma, for example, set up a hotline for Roma with the support of the Central Welfare Office of the Jews in Germany.13 Many other organizations take on tasks throughout Germany that should actually be taken over by state structures. Germany implemented special support measures for survivors of Nazi persecution in Ukraine. The Aid Network for Survivors of Nazi Persecution in 11

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Bahnhofshelfer Mannheim 2022. Welcome to Germany, aber nur wenn Du …. Facebook March 24, 2022. https://m.facebook.com/1610842385843921/posts/3011076412487171/? d=n&_rdr BILD 2022. Insiderin über Randale im Flüchtlingsheim. https://www.bild.de/bild-plus /regional/muenchen/muenchen-aktuell/muenchen-polizeiangehoerige-packt-aus-gr ossfamilien-randalieren-im-fluechtlingsh-79607276.bild.html Dokumentations- und Kulturzentrum Deutscher Sinti und Roma (DoKuZ) 2022. Notfall-Hotline für Roma aus der Ukraine. July 6, 2022. https://dokuzentrum.sintiundrom a.de/notfall-hotline-fur-roma-aus-der-ukraine-strong/

Stephan Müller: Roma and the war against Ukraine

Ukraine [Hilfsnetzwerk für Überlebende der NS Verfolgung in der Ukraine] helped to support or evacuate survivors in Ukraine. The commitment of German ministries, authorities and institutions as well as numerous civil society organizations to Roma survivors of the genocide is a good example in these difficult times.

Czech Republic Tension and discrimination also occurred in the Czech Republic (Ryšavý 2022h). As of May 2022 in particular, the situation further escalated, after violence against Roma refugees had already been reported before (Horvátová 2022). In addition, there were problems with the accommodation of Roma refugees. In places like Prague or Brno, there was a lack of accommodation, and the authorities apparently tried to send Roma refugees with dual citizenship from Ukraine on to Hungary. There were reports from Brno that Roma refugees were prevented from leaving the train (Ryšavý 2022c). In Prague, many Roma refugees lived in and around the main railway station, as accommodation was either not available or they were not accepted (Harding 2022). A tent city was erected only for Roma refugees, which, according to the mayor of Prague, was to accommodate mostly refugees with dual citizenship (Ryšavý 2022d). According to Czech authorities, dual citizens, including citizens from EU Member States, are not entitled to assistance under the Temporary Protection Directive (Ungarn Heute 2022). Therefore, the Czech Minister of the Interior Vít Rakušan offered them free onward transport to Hungary by train. He had also spoken to his colleagues in Ukraine and Hungary to make sure that Ukrainian border authorities stopped dual citizens from leaving the country and come to Czechia. In addition, he had urged his Hungarian colleague to speed up the process of checking whether a person had dual citizenship (Ryšavý 2022e). Apparently, only persons considered being Roma were checked to see if they had dual citizenship. After checking the data of 5,000 individuals thought to be Roma, only a very small part of these 5,000 Roma (less than 3%) actually turned out to have Hungarian citizenship in addition to Ukrainian citizenship (Ryšavý 2022g). There have been several incidents of hate speech by politicians, e.g. President Milos Zeman, who already attracted attention in the past with statements that were accused of being racist (Ryšavý 2022a). This time, he denied the Roma war refugees their status by calling them “economic refugees”. The

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deputy mayor of Brno, the second-largest city in the Czech Republic, Marketa Vankova, claimed that Roma refugees from Ukraine applied for financial aid in several EU countries. When asked, she admitted that she had no proof of this (Ryšavý 2022b). According to the Guardian, Czech Interior Minister Vít Rakušan believes that Roma arrivals are linked to organized crime and wishes to combat this “social tourism” (Harding 2022). On May 19, 2022, the government had already changed its legislation for refugees from Ukraine. These changes as well as the public discussion on Roma refugees appeared to be directed against Roma refugees (Ryšavý 2022f): the new rules explicitly excluded European Union citizens from temporary protection, extended the deadline for processing an application for temporary protection to 60 days, and reduced the time for refugees from Ukraine to report changes of residency from 15 to three days. In late May, they also stopped all humanitarian aid for refugees at the train station in Prague—the majority of refugees there were Roma. The Czech Republic did not consult any NGOs involved in refugee aid when changing its laws; the latter complained about the changing mood against Ukrainian refugees, who were now increasingly referred to as “economic refugees” and “social tourists” (Romea2022). The NGOs also reported cases of Roma refugees not even able to apply for protection or being denied access to Temporary Protection. It is hardly surprising that, according to research, one out of three Roma refugees experienced intolerance in the Czech Republic and one in six refugees experienced discrimination from public authorities (Ryšavý 2022h). The survey also highlights the poor living conditions of Roma refugees (15% do not have access to hot running water in their accommodation). A total of 78% of schoolage children do not attend school in the Czech Republic, while this is the case for only 13% of Ukrainian children refugees. This practice of antigypsyism, as reflected in the defamation of Roma refugees, seems to be aimed at accepting no further Roma refugees or as few Roma refugees as possible in the Czech Republic. In consequence, it was also reported that Roma travelled on from the Czech Republic to other countries, especially to Germany (Ryšavý and Samko 2022). In many cases, high levels of discrimination and antigypsyism in the countries of temporary residence are given as a reason for their onward journey to Germany (Ryšavý 2022).

Stephan Müller: Roma and the war against Ukraine

Hungary According to Roma NGOs, some tens of thousands of Roma have fled from Ukraine to Hungary. The majority, however, regarded Hungary as a mere transit country and moved on to other countries. It is difficult to determine how many of them still live in Hungary; according to NGO sources, there are several thousand Roma. There are also reports that the Hungarian authorities encouraged Roma refugees to continue their journey, especially to Germany (Zachová and Makszimov 2022). The first reports on Roma returning to Ukraine appeared as early as in April 2022 (Forgacs 2022). The Roma refugees from Ukraine include a considerable number of people with dual—Ukrainian and Hungarian—citizenship. In the first weeks after their arrival in Hungary, these newcomers were recognized as citizens of Hungary with the same rights as any other Hungarian citizen; if left unchanged, this approach would have excluded them from the assistance mechanism under the temporary protection regime. In the meantime, it has been determined that these dual citizens are eligible for assistance, nonetheless, just as all other refugees from Ukraine under the temporary protection regime.14 In reality, however, many Roma refugees with dual citizenship still do not benefit from this assistance because they are not aware of this opportunity. When others registered for Temporary Protection and attempted to access other social and humanitarian services, after all, they were denied such assistance (VOICE/CARE 2022). In addition, many men had already been working in Hungary before the war and now took their families to live in Hungary.15 Roma who fled to Hungary still face several challenges, even if they speak Hungarian and have the Hungarian citizenship. Many had to find private accommodation or need to find work, which is a problem especially for Roma in Hungary. Many of them experience discrimination while looking for accommodation or work. While a few women found new jobs, however, the majority became part of Hungary’s grey labor force.16

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Magyar Helsinki Bizottsag 2022. Tajekoztato as Ukrajnabol menekülö ukran-magyar kettös allampolgarnak. June 7, 2022. https://helsinki.hu/tajekoztato-az-ukrajnabol-m enekulo-ukran-magyar-kettos-allampolgaroknak/ This has been confirmed in personal communication with Roma organizations and individuals working with Roma refugees in Hungary Personal communication with Roma organizations or individuals working with Roma refugees from Ukraine.

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As many Roma who fled to Hungary speak Hungarian, it is easier for their children to attend schools and kindergartens. Although a considerable share of the children is enrolled in school and kindergarten, others are not. It seems to depend on local circumstances and available assistance, whether or not children attend school. There are also reports from Hungary on unequal treatment of Roma refugees (Amnesty International 2022); or that Roma refugees are accused of not being “real refugees” (Ellena and Makszimov 2022). On the whole, it is mostly Roma civil society organizations, human rights organizations, and church communities who look after and support the refugees (Forgacs 2022). Roma organizations also pointed out that the refugees were subjected to prejudice and discrimination from non-Roma volunteers working with them. In the meantime, the state has at least taken over the management of the “initial reception center” in Budapest, a former sports hall. Across the country, many refugees, including those with dual citizenship, still depend on the support of civil society organizations, even with regard to the supply of food and non-food items. The support for Roma refugees from Ukraine also creates problems with local vulnerable Roma communities who don’t receive any support and yet often live in deplorable circumstances in need of support.

Moldova Moldova also took in many refugees, including several thousand Roma. Many people who did not have identity cards were able to cross the border in the first days of the war, partly across the green border (Joles 2022). The majority of Roma who fled to Moldova found lodging in private accommodations, and only a smaller share—mostly segregated from other refugees—in official refugee centers. Discrimination against Roma refugees is widespread (Kottasova 2022). Organizations such as Human Rights Watch or ERRC criticized the segregated accommodation and further unequal treatment of Roma refugees in the Republic of Moldova (Lee 2022). Humanitarian aid in these reception centers is not always guaranteed either; as you had to present a Ukrainian identity card to receive aid, for example, refugees who entered the country without documents were automatically excluded (Joles 2022). Refugees housed in private accommodation usually do not receive any state support and have to pay for rent and food themselves. Considering they also have to pay for electricity and clothing, there is great concern about what the

Stephan Müller: Roma and the war against Ukraine

situation is going to be like in autumn and winter. NGOs on site fear that more refugees will want to move to official reception centers when it gets colder—but their capacity is limited.

Perspectives of Roma refugees No one can predict the duration of the Russian war of aggression against Ukraine, just as no one can predict the short or long-term consequences of the war for Roma refugees. For this reason, any plans and aid schemes need to take into account that the refugees might stay for a longer time in the host countries—if the war continues—and will need to be reintegrated in the reconstruction of Ukraine after the end of the war. In both scenarios, analyses of the current situation of the Roma in Ukraine as well as Roma refugees call for a wide array of necessary measures. Looking back and factoring it experiences from previous conflicts, such as in Kosovo or Bosnia and Herzegovina, these necessary steps will have to include: the equal inclusion of the Roma in Ukrainian society, preventing the expulsion of the Roma after the end of the war, and attracting them to voluntarily return to their homes. More than 100,000 Roma were displaced or fled from Kosovo after the end of the war in 1999, and only some of them were actually able to return (Müller and Mattli 2016). For security reasons, internally displaced Roma or refugees were often the last to be able to return to their homes after the war—if at all—or to leave communal or emergency shelters for IDPs. Members of other groups, especially the majority population, were given preferential treatment, and there was often resistance from parts of the majority population, if Roma were to return to their homes or be resettled elsewhere. On the other hand, Roma who had been receiving temporary protection in an EU Member State were forcibly deported even years after the end of the war, and even if they had lived in the host country for twenty years, had even been born there, often did not know the official language in their parents’ country of origin, had neither accommodation nor access to the labor market there, and were exposed to discrimination and exclusion. Such scenarios must be prevented for the Roma from Ukraine. Thus, the Roma must be included in measures already implemented in Ukraine. In the long term, the recognition of the Roma—and other minorities—as an integral

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part of post-war Ukraine must be guaranteed by an appropriate legal and policy framework, which the European Union must commit to monitor.17 Especially now it is vital that the Roma are not excluded from humanitarian assistance provided by the international community in Ukraine. This also includes measures to improve the living conditions of IDPs. The Roma as well as members of other minorities, who have already fled the occupied territories in eastern Ukraine back in 2014 and since February 2022 cannot return (soon) any more than members of majority society. They must, therefore, be included in housing programs for IDPs, e.g., in western Ukraine, and in other measures for IDPs. As the survey of internally displaced Roma in the regions of Transcarpathia and Odessa in early summer 2022 revealed, almost one out of three internally displaced Roma had their homes destroyed or damaged (Chirikli 2022a; Chirikli 2022b). A large share is now either housed with other Roma or has rented accommodation, while in Transcarpathia in particular a considerable number is housed in inadequate accommodation, such as church institutions, schools or hostels. This cannot be a permanent solution. The onset of the cold season—not least because of energy shortages and rising costs—may create difficult challenges for those affected and responsible public authorities. Moreover, food and other daily necessities are not guaranteed for internally displaced Roma. There is an urgent need to ensure that international support provided to Ukraine also allows internally displaced Roma, as well as families who have taken in internally displaced Roma, to share in this support. Measures must also be taken—at wherever currently possible in Ukraine—to counteract the exclusion of Roma caused by antigypsyism, e.g., in the school system and the labor market. Post-war reconstruction measures for Ukraine must also take into account the specific situation of Roma due to antigypsyism (Ukrainian Government 2022). This means creating and implementing measures to improve participation in education and the labor market as well as to end segregation. Furthermore, anti-discrimination and minority protection should be considered an essential element in the reconstruction of Ukrainian society. Both the Roma living in Ukraine as IDPs and the Roma returning home as refugees must have

17

At the time of writing, a new law on minorities is discussed in Ukraine. In addition, the existing Strategy and Action Plan for Inclusion of Roma has to be revised in cooperation with Roma representatives.

Stephan Müller: Roma and the war against Ukraine

the same rights and access to support measures as other Ukrainian citizens in the same situation. It is of great importance not to allow a “negative narrative” of the Roma in Ukraine to gain the upper hand. Therefore, a narrative that highlights the contribution of the Roma and other minorities defending and protecting Ukraine against the Russian war of aggression must be supported. Ukrainian leaders are called to highlight this contribution, just as other states and individual politicians from key countries need to repeatedly point out in their discussions with Ukrainian leaders the need to emphasize the contribution of the Roma and other. Without these measures, the permanent inclusion of the Roma in Ukraine as well as the permanent return of Roma refugees will fail. After the end of the war, the diverse support provided by minorities such as the Roma will hopefully be recognized by Ukrainian politics and society. This means that the Roma and other minorities are considered an integral part of Ukrainian society, granting them the broadest possible minority rights and implementing proactive measures to promote the inclusion of Roma. A decisive factor in this development will be the question whether the international community of states and above all the European Union have learned from the wars in Kosovo, Bosnia and Herzegovina or Syria, where the position and situation of the Roma and related minorities were largely ignored by international politics during the war and in the post-war period. Today, for example, the Roma are still not seen as equal citizens or an integral part of society, neither by the respective majority societies in Kosovo or Bosnia and Herzegovina nor by international politics. Moreover, the policy of the international community of states as well as the European Union and its member states in particular determines the situation of those who have fled and the prospects of a permanent return to Ukraine. Until now (October 2022), the international community and the European Union do not seem to have learned from the mistakes of their respective policies in Kosovo as well as Bosnia and Herzegovina (G7 Konferenz 2022). The situation of the Roma and other non-Russian minorities have not played any role in the considerations and plans for reconstruction so far. With regard to the situation of Roma refugees, the receiving states should not only see it as an obligation to support the Roma to integrate without discrimination—whereby Germany in particular has a responsibility due to the genocide of the Roma in Ukraine during the Nazi era. The receiving countries should also see it as an opportunity to improve the education and training of Roma refugees, especially women and children. Their lack of local language

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skills as well as antigypsyism are certainly challenges here, but challenges that can be overcome. Any measures for the inclusion of Roma refugees in these host countries must already factor in the experiences of antigypsyism and discrimination of the majority of Roma in Ukraine. In addition, any potential antigypsyism of other refugees from Ukraine but also in the host societies must be addressed. Therefore, measures of education and anti-racism need to address both groups, also to ensure the equal participation of Roma in described inclusion measures. With reference to members of the majority society, however, this also means that politicians must be stopped from abusing tendencies of antigypsyism among the population in order to deny Roma refugees the status of war refugees. The resulting mood in society may lead to (further) acts of violence against Roma and less Roma participation in affirmative action. Furthermore, this practice may also be used as a pretext for tightening reception practices for refugees in general. In the host countries, any tendencies towards segregating the Roma in accommodations as well as schools must also be counteracted. The legal situation of Ukrainian refugees to EU Member States in general, including Roma refugees, is different from war refugees from Kosovo or Bosnia and Herzegovina as a result of the EU Directive on Temporary Protection. They now have far more opportunities for (provisional) actual integration into their host countries; opportunities that should also be used for Roma refugees. Furthermore, the consequences of antigypsyism, discrimination and social exclusion with regard to education and the labor market in Ukraine—as documented in several studies in the Ukraine and among refugees from Ukraine—must be taken into account. Literacy measures and training programs for women as well as support programs for school children should accordingly be high on the agenda. Refugee women in Hungary and the Republic of Moldova, for example, showed great interest in such (further) education measures.18 In order to realize such measures, however, childcare facilities and appropriately trained teaching staff are needed. Additional measures should include legal assistance, psychological and social care, information on support measures, and getting in touch with relatives in the host population. These are only a few of the possible measures that can

18

Personal observations of the author from meetings with refugees in Moldova (August 2022) and Hungary (October 2022).

Stephan Müller: Roma and the war against Ukraine

be taken. This time, the European Union has the opportunity and duty to support Roma refugees as well as those who remained in Ukraine, and can thus contribute to equal participation in a post-war Ukraine. This opportunity cannot be ignored. Roma refugees should not only become visible in public as a scapegoat of prejudice. Instead they should be recognized and treated equally while addressing their additional needs due to antigypsyism and discrimination over centuries. In a nutshell, the Roma have to be visible and included as active participants in the discourse on the inclusion of refugees in their host countries as well as on the future of Ukraine.

References Alliance Against Antigypsyism. 2017. “Antigypsyism—A Reference Paper.” h ttp://antigypsyism.eu/reference-paper/#referencepaper-about [accessed 31–10-2022] Amnesty International (AI). 2022. “Flüchtlinge Zweiter Klasse.” May 4, 2022. https://www.amnesty.de/informieren/amnesty-journal/ukraine-fl uechtlinge-diskriminierung [accessed 31–10-2022] Ayyadi, Kira. 2022. “Antiziganistische Stimmung gegen Geflüchtete Roma in Thüringen.” October 24, 2022. https://www.belltower.news/soemmerdaantiziganistische-stimmung-gegen-gefluechtete-roma-in-thueringen-14 1001/ [accessed 31–10-2022] Chirikli 2022a, Результати опитування «Потреби внутрішньо переміщених осіб» в Одеській області [Results of the survey “Needs of Internally Displaced Persons of Odesa Oblast”]. Chirikli 2022b, Результати опитування «Потреби вимушено переміщених осіб» у Закарпатській області [Results of the survey “Needs of Internally Displaced Persons in Transcarpathia Oblast”] Ellena, Silvia, and Vlad Makszimov. 2022. “Faced with discrimination, Ukrainian Roma refugees are going home.” April 14, 2022. https://www.e uractiv.com/section/non-discrimination/news/faced-with-discriminatio n-ukrainian-roma-refugees-are-going-home/ [accessed 31–10-2022] EU Neighbours East. 2022. “EU highlights plight of Roma refugees from Ukraine ahead of International Roma Day.” April 7, 2022. https://euneigh bourseast.eu/news/latest-news/eu-highlights-plight-of-roma-refugees-f rom-ukraine-ahead-of-international-roma-day/

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European Commission. 2022. “Press Release. March 2, 2022. Ukraine: Commission proposes temporary protection for people fleeing war in Ukraine and guidelines for border checks.” https://ec.europa.eu/commission/pres scorner/detail/en/ip_22_1469 [accessed 31–10-2022] European Roma Rights Centre (ERRC). 2020. “Written Comments of the European Roma Rights Centre, Concerning Ukraine For Consideration by the Human Rights Committee at its 129th Session.” (June 29–July 24, 2020) http://www.errc.org/uploads/upload_en/file/5242_file1_ukraine -un-hrc-28-may-2020.pdf[accessed 31–10-2022] European Roma Rights Centre (ERRC). 2022a. “Ukrainian Roma in Moldova face segregation, poor conditions and—without documentation—nowhere to go.” March 8, 2022. http://www.errc.org/news/ukrain ian-roma-face-segregation-poor-conditions-and---without-documentat ion---nowhere-to-go [accessed 31–10-2022] European Roma Rights Centre (ERRC). 2022b. “Ukrainian Court Rules for Romani Family Against School Segregation.” April 29, 2022. http://www.e rrc.org/press-releases/ukrainian-court-rules-for-romani-family-against -school-segregation [accessed 31–10-2022] Federal Union of European Nationalities (FUEN). 2022. “Dialogues, conflicts and wars—minorities in the field of tension.” Congress Report. Website of FUEN, September 30, 2022. https://fuen.org/en/article/Dialogues-conflic ts-and-wars-minorities-in-the-field-of-tension [accessed 31–10-2022] Forgacs Marietta. 2022. “Egyre több Kárpátaljáról érkező roma menekült fordul vissza Ukrajnába.” April 8, 2022. https://index.hu/belfold/2022/04/08/ a-romak-a-romakat-segitik-a-vilagnapjukon/ [accessed 31–10-2022] Fremlova, Lucie. 2022. “Roma in the Ukraine in the context of war, annexation and historic oppression.” October 12, 2022. https://romea.cz/en/world/luc ie-fremlova-roma-in-the-ukraine-in-the-context-of-war-annexation-an d-historic-oppression [accessed 31–10-2022] G7 Konferenz. 2022. “Geber-Plattform soll beim Wiederaufbau der Ukraine helfen. ” https://www.g7germany.de/g7-de/suche/ukraine-wiederaufbaukonferenz-2127814 [accessed 31–10-2022] Government of Ukraine. 2022. “Recovery and Development Plan of Ukraine. ” https://www.urc2022.com/ [accessed 31–10-2022] Harding, Luke. 2022. “‘They won’t accept us’: Roma refugees forced to camp at Prague train station.” May 25, 2022. https://www.theguardian.com/global -development/2022/may/25/they-wont-accept-us-roma-refugees-forced -to-camp-at-prague-train-station [accessed 31–10-2022]

Stephan Müller: Roma and the war against Ukraine

Horvátová, Renata. 2022. “Romani Ukrainian refugees leave Czech Republic for Germany, say local teenagers assaulted their children with glass bottles and accommodation manager attacked a little boy.” March 23, 2022. https: //romea.cz/en/news/czech/romani-ukrainian-refugees-leave-czech-repu blic-for-germany-say-local-teenagers-assaulted-their-children-with-gla ss-bottles [accessed 31–10-2022] International Renaissance Foundation (IRF). 2015. “Roma in terms of military conflict: assistance is needed more than ever.” April 14, 2015. https://www. irf.ua/en/romi_v_umovakh_viyskovogo_konfliktu_dopomoga_potribna_ yak_nikoli/ [accessed 31–10-2022] Joles, Betsy. 2022. “Roma refugees who fled from Ukraine to Moldova are now in limbo.” May 21, 2022. https://text.npr.org/1098489307 [accessed 31–102022] Kayacik, Leyla. 2022. “Council of Europe. Report of the fact-finding mission to the Czech Republic.” Special Representative of the Secretary General on Migration and Refugees May 4–6, 2022. Information Documents SG/ Inf(2022)25, 5 July 2022. https://rm.coe.int/report-of-the-fact-finding-mi ssion-to-the-czech-republic/1680a72648[accessed 31–10-2022] Kottasova, Ivana. 2022. “‘You are not a refugee.’ Roma refugees fleeing war in Ukraine say they are suffering discrimination and prejudice.” August 7, 2022. https://edition.cnn.com/2022/08/07/europe/ukraine-roma-refugee s-intl-cmd/index.html[accessed 31–10-2022] Lee, Jonathan. 2022. “Ukrainian Roma in Moldova face segregation, poor conditions and—without documentation—nowhere to go.” March 8, 2022. http://www.errc.org/news/ukrainian-roma-face-segregation-poor-condi tions-and---without-documentation---nowhere-to-go [accessed 31–102022] Markusová, Helena. 2022. “Romani activist from Ukraine: The rights of Romani people are neglected and they are persecuted, Russia takes advantage of this for its propaganda about neo-Nazi tensions in Ukraine.” April 24, 2022. https://romea.cz/en/news/world/romani-activist-fromukraine-the-rights-of-romani-people-are-neglected-and-they-are-per secuted-russia-takes-advantage-of#.YmUQ96vkQwU.twitter [accessed 31–10-2022] Melde- und Informationsstelle Antiziganismus (MIA) 2022. “Melde- und Informationsstelle Antiziganismus (MIA) verurteilt die Diskriminierung geflüchteter ukrainischer Roma.” https://www.antiziganismus-melden.d e/2022/07/01/melde-und-informationsstelle-antiziganismus-mia-verurt

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eilt-die-diskriminierung-gefluechteter-ukrainischer-roma-roma-aus-de r-ukraine-muessen-als-ukrainische-staatsbuerger_innen-behandelt-wer den/[accessed 31–10-2022] Mirga-Wójtowicz, Elżbieta, Talewicz, Joanna, and Małgorzata Kołaczek. 2022. “Human rights, needs and discrimination—the situation of Roma refugees from Ukraine in Poland.” https://zentralrat.sintiundroma.de/en/publicat ion-about-the-situation-of-roma-refugees-from-ukraine-in-poland/ [accessed 31–10-2022] Müller, Stephan, and Angela Mattli. 2016. „Trapped in a vicious circle: Repatriation and Re-Migration of Roma, Ashkali and Balkan-Egyptians from Kosovo.” Studi Emigrazione. International Journal of Migration Studies (IJMS) 204: 643–660 Müller, Stephan. 2022. Forced Migration and the Roma in Ukraine. ROR_n Blog http://www.ror-n.org/-blog/forced-migration-and-the-roma-in-uk raine [accessed 31–10-2022] Polianska, Ruslana. 2022a. “My Vaniusha is a soldier. How a Roma boy serves in the Armed Forces of Ukraine.” July 1, 2022. Youth Agency for the Advocacy of Roma Culture ARCA https://yngo-arca.com/en/stories-of-resistance-e n/my-vaniusha-is-a-soldier-how-a-roma-boy-serves-in-the-armed-forc es-of-ukraine/ [accessed 31–10-2022] Polianska, Ruslana 2022b. “Kamila Horvat: how a Roma activist helps displaced people in Uzhhorod not to lose themselves.” Youth Agency for the Advocacy of Roma Culture ARCA” July 26, 2022. https://yngo-arca.com/en /activism-en/kamila-horvat-how-a-roma-activist-helps-displaced-peopl e-in-uzhhorod-not-to-lose-themselves/ [accessed 31–10-2022] Polianska, Ruslana 2022c. “Life of a Roma activist under occupation.” September 6, 2022. Youth Agency for the Advocacy of Roma Culture ARCA https://yngo-arca.com/en/stories-of-resistance-en/life-of-a-romaactivist-under-occupation/ [accessed 31–10-2022] Polianska, Ruslana 2022d. “Roma and jazz: How a Roma jazz band keeps its front.” August 18, 2022. Youth Agency for the Advocacy of Roma Culture ARCA https://yngo-arca.com/en/culture-en/roma-and-jazz-how-a-roma -jazz-band-keeps-its-front/ [accessed 31–10-2022] Polianska, Ruslana 2022e. “Not only by tank alone. How Roma youth donated a car for the Armed Forces.” Youth Agency for the Advocacy of Roma Culture ARCA July 14, 2022. ttps://yngo-arca.com/en/activism-en/notonly-by-tank-alone-how-roma-youth-donated-a-car-for-the-armedforces/ [accessed 31–10-2022]

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Прокопенко, Зіна [Prokopenko, Zina]. 2022. “Ромський воїн Василь Медведенко з Кам’янського.” October 12, 2022. https://romaua.org.ua/n ews/ukraine/1665605146268 [accessed 31–10-2022] Roma Early Years Network (REYN). 2015. Website of REYN Ukraine. https://re yn.eu/national_networks/ukraine/ [accessed 31–10-2022] Romea 2022. “Czech NGO director: Government never consulted changes to support for refugees from Ukraine with our organization.” May 20, 2022. https://romea.cz/en/news/czech/czech-ngo-director-government-neverconsulted-changes-to-support-for-refugees-from-ukraine-with-our-org anization; [accessed 31–10-2022] Ryšavý, Zdeněk. 2022. “Czech regional governors accuse Romani refugee Ukrainians of ”abusing” aid in the Czech Republic.” April 23, 2022. htt ps://romea.cz/en/news/czech/czech-regional-governors-accuse-roma ni-refugee-ukrainians-of-abusing-aid-in-the-czech-republic [accessed 31–10-2022] Ryšavý, Zdeněk. 2022a. “Czech President calls Romani refugees from Ukraine ‘economic migrants’”. May 2, 2022. https://romea.cz/en/news/czech/czech -president-calls-romani-refugees-from-ukraine-economic-migrants [accessed 31–10-2022] Ryšavý, Zdeněk. 2022b. “Mayor of Czech Republic’s second city alleges Romani refugees sleeping in the train station can access benefits in other countries, then admits she can’t prove it.” May 4, 2022. https://romea.cz/en/ne ws/czech/mayor-of-czech-republic-apos-s-second-city-alleges-romanirefugees-sleeping-in-the-train-station-can-access-benefits-in [accessed 31–10-2022] Ryšavý, Zdeněk. 2022c. “Czech Police seem to prevent Romani refugees from disembarking at station, but say they just informed them there is no accommodation available in the country’s second-largest city.” May 10, 2022. https://romea.cz/en/news/czech/czech-police-seem-to-prevent-ro mani-refugees-from-disembarking-at-station-but-say-they-just-inform ed-them-there-is-no Ryšavý, Zdeněk. 2022d. “Prague Mayor tells Czech Govt that if refugees are not redistributed elsewhere in the country by Tuesday, he will close the assistance center.” May 13, 2022. https://romea.cz/en/news/czech/prague -mayor-tells-czech-govt-that-if-refugees-are-not-redistributed-elsewhe re-in-the-country-by-tuesday-he-will-close-the[accessed 31–10-2022] Ryšavý, Zdeněk. 2022e. “Aid to refugees from Ukraine will no longer be offered at Czech capital’s main train station by close of this month, about 500

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Romani refugees continue to sleep there.” May 19, 2022. https://romea.c z/en/news/czech/aid-to-refugees-from-ukraine-will-no-longer-be-offer ed-at-czech-capital-apos-s-main-train-station-by-close-of-this-month [accessed 31–10-2022] Ryšavý, Zdeněk. 2022f. “Czech Government proposes stricter rules for temporary protection for refugees from Ukraine.” May 20, 2022. https://romea.c z/en/news/czech/czech-government-proposes-stricter-rules-for-tempor ary-protection-for-refugees-from-ukraine [accessed 31–10-2022] Ryšavý, Zdeněk. 2022g. “Czech Police tell public broadcaster that of more than 5,000 Romani refugees from Ukraine who have been vetted, just 150 have Hungarian passports.” June 12, 2022. https://romea.cz/en/news/czech/cz ech-police-tell-public-broadcaster-that-of-more-than-5-000-romani-ref ugees-from-ukraine-who-have-been-vetted-just-150#.YqWmQ1mCv0Q. twitter [accessed 31–10-2022] Ryšavý, Zdeněk. 2022h. “Czech research finds one-third of Romani refugees from Ukraine have experienced discrimination here, most children are not in education, dual citizenship has not been ‘abused’ by them.” August 1, 2022. https://romea.cz/en/czech-republic/czech-research-finds-one-th ird-of-romani-refugees-from-ukraine-have-experienced-discrimination -here-most-children-are-not-2 [accessed 31–10-2022] Ryšavý, Zdeněk, and Richard Samko. 2022. “Romani refugees from Ukraine pass through Czech Republic on their way to Germany, tell those aiding them that ‘Putin is killing us!’.” April 25, 2022 https://romea.cz/en/news/c zech/romani-refugees-from-ukraine-pass-through-czech-republic-on-t heir-way-to-germany-tell-those-aiding-them-that-putin-is#.YmZCjWxo VFc.twitter [accessed 31–10-2022] Stiftung Erinnerung, Verantwortung, Zukunft (Foundation Remembrance, Responsibility and Future). https://www.stiftung-evz.de/en/ [accessed 31–10-2022] Szabo, Sandor. 2022. “Fegyir Sandor-a-haboru legnehezebb napja a beke elso napja lesz.” Kiszo, September 25, 2022. https://kiszo.net/2022/09/25/fegyir -sandor-a-haboru-legnehezebb-napja-a-beke-elso-napja-lesz/; [accessed 31–10-2022] Tsviliy, Olha. 2022. „Handbuch zur Zusammenarbeit mit Roma Flüchtlingen aus der Ukraine in europäischen Ländern.“ https://www.willkommen-ingotha.de/fileadmin/user_upload/Handbuch_f%C3%BCr_die_Arbeit_mit_ Roma_aus_der_Ukraine.pdf [accessed 31–10-2022]

Stephan Müller: Roma and the war against Ukraine

Ukrainian Ministry of Defense. 2022. Facebook page. July 1. 2022. https://ww w.facebook.com/MinistryofDefence.UA Ungarn Heute. 2022. „Ukrainische Staatsbürger mit ungarischem Pass können in der Tschechischen Republik keine Hilfe erwarten.“ April 20, 2022. https://ungarnheute.hu/news/ukrainische-staatsbuerger-mit-ungarisch em-pass-koennen-in-der-tschechischen-republik-keine-hilfe-erwarten42983/ [accessed 31–10-2022] UNHCR. 2022. “Operational Data Portal. Ukraine Refugee Situation.” https:// data.unhcr.org/en/situations/ukraine [accessed 31–10-2022] UN WOMEN. 2022. “Ukraine: New UN Women and CARE report highlights disproportionate impact of the war on women and minorities.” https://w ww.unwomen.org/en/news-stories/news/2022/05/ukraine-new-un-wom en-and-care-report-highlights-disproportionate-impact-of-the-war-onwomen-and-minorities [accessed 31–10-2022] VOICE/CARE. 2022. „Hungary: The impact of Food Insecurity on GenderBased Violence in the Ukraine Refugee Response.“ September 2022. Executive Summary. https://voiceamplified.org/wp-content/uploads/2022/ 11/VOICE-CARE-Policy-Brief_Hungary-Food-Insecurity_Sept22.pdf [accessed 31–10-2022] Zachová, Aneta, and Vlagyiszlav Makszimov, 2022. “Viségrad-Länder bemüht, geflüchtete ukrainische Roma loszuwerden.” May 19, 2022. https://www.e uractiv.de/section/antidiskriminierung/news/visegrad-laender-bemueht -gefluechtete-ukrainische-roma-loszuwerden/ [accessed 31–10-2022]

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How painful and difficult it is to catch the wind, or shade the passing clouds, or the mist, when you walk on an unknown path. I am a tree without seeds or branches. The wind has tampered with me and thrown me into the air, looking for a place of safety to lie in my arms and sleep, tired and afraid of thoughts and the reality that we live in the homeland. The fear that lives in my heart and soul caused pain in my chest. The war destroyed everything in my country. Trees and stones, and has made most people homeless. We are now addressed by newscasts in all languages. Either we were killed or missing at sea, and in the headlines of the newspapers, we were achieving the highest sales. We were the main story in all the bulletins. All borders were closed to us, even the closest countries to us, especially the Arab countries; and with the passport we have, we could not travel without a specific destination, we could just sail. The important thing was to escape from that hell. Fear of the sea and sailing was the basis. Travelling and sailing in a plastic boat without a captain with large numbers of people, leaving everything behind and spending the night in the darkness, despite the noise of the soul and despite the many questions in my head. The thing that mostly preoccupies me is the search for safety and peace. I lit a candle I owned. Perhaps that fire narrows around us to any country, and no country gives us a visa to enter it; living with missiles, explosions, and snipers is impossible. I feel suffocated and narrowed in all the roads blocked in our path to escape annihilation; hell is waiting for us whether we survive, or die, or rest from the torment; our fate is written and ready. Fleeing from the homeland torment or living inside the homeland between fear and terror, what is more difficult? It is as if I am between two paths, both of which are difficult. I’m the one inside a bottle, and I can’t get out through its neck or live inside it. I’m talking to my shadow. I’m fragile and I’m afraid of everything. The decision to emigrate by sea, after a long thought, warmed

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and removed fear from my heart. Then I said to myself that the best candles are those lit in our hearts. I followed the unfamiliar route at the beginning of a new existence, into the foreign world of asylum. Today I’m going to tell you about my trip to the refugee camp. I removed the shoes from my feet and stowed it in a bag that I placed in another backpack. I felt embarrassed to stroll in front of the youngsters as they plunged their feet into the mud in the bitter cold. I felt the cold reaching my heart, particularly because my garments were not winter-appropriate, and it was the first time I felt cold penetrating my bones, heart, and even thoughts. It was not only the cold but also the terrible sight in front of me. Nobody understands why the cold isn’t good for their young feet or why they live in a modest tent with cracks everywhere. Why are there tears in my eyes, and why are so many questions racing through my mind? There are nations that race to reach the moon and develop weapons, and there are individuals who want nothing more than a wall to protect them from the cold and the air. Danger lurks at every corner. Nations won the battle and countries lost. The biggest losers are those who had lost their houses, dignity, and lives. If only nations that squander their money on wars and adventures would build them tiny cottages. Only airtight walls will do. Children in the camps believe that the world is made up of tents surrounded by muck and filth, plastic water bottles, and plastic fuel tanks. The little children play in small yards between the tents. Every civilized country has games for every age group, and the proper age for each game is listed on the box. Children in the camps play with empty metal cans and canned goods, such as sardines and tuna, and giggle despite everything. This is their way of life, and their feast is when they obtain a cooked meal; they do not have televisions, do not attend schools, and they all have numbers for relocation. Their house exists only in their minds. I used to watch their joy as they waited in line for Red Cross assistance; I fought back tears as I stood with them and observed the tent, with no door to secure for fear of theft, because they had nothing worth taking. Tents do not need locks or keys. Women’s conversations in camps vary from those of women living under normal circumstances. The ladies in the camps are in an odd and out of the ordinary situation. They complain about a lack of humanitarian assistance and healthcare appointments. The truth is searing, and reality is terrible, and I return from my journey unable to move or carry my body due to the difficulties of what I have seen. I sigh sadly while I repeat words that soothe my worry and anguish, and I cry bitterly. I returned from the tented journey of misery and loss with a thousand concerns about the destiny of these folks and

Laila Hajulah: The many fears we live with

what awaits these children. Strangers without a home are missing in the midst of the chaos. According to UNICEF, there are approximately 1.9 million Syrian children in camps, with 22,000 children in Al-Hol alone. The Al-Hol refugee camp is close to the border between Syria and Iraq. It is on the southern edge of the city of Al-Hol in the Al-Hasakah Governorate in northern Syria. Children in the camps lack access to education and medical treatment. They encounter an uncertain destiny and future. We are a people, and as the world closes in on us, the sky opens up for us. Being outside Syria’s borders, over a million and a half youngsters in tents risk losing their citizenship just by being in neighboring countries. When I came to Austria, everything in the beginning seemed odd to me, particularly the German language and the roads, of which I have no recollection, except for my loneliness and nostalgia. My walks in Austria were lonely. I abandoned everything in my country so I could live a peaceful life with my family in my home; and I abandoned everything when my family members began travelling to different countries, making it more difficult for us to travel together. I went on routes I didn’t know, passed several boundaries, and was terrified. I journeyed into the unknown until I arrived in a land where I felt protected. I am terrified of everything, including the sounds of aircraft, explosions, and ambulances, as well as children crying. All of these things combined to form a nightmare that lives inside me; I can’t sleep at night, and if I can, I wake up horrified, fearful of horrible dreams; everything dreadful lingers in my brain and tortures me. I’m sick of the dread that has taken up residence in my depths. When I view the water, I see in my mind’s eye images of families who drowned and became food for fish for years and years. How many families have considered moving across the sea on rubber boats that were wrecked as a result of bogus smugglers? They also provided a source of income for merchants. When I stare at the water, I feel like a leaf in the air that is neither resting on a branch nor stable on the ground, swinging in the air and wailing, and no one can hear it. When I arrived at the camp where I had been transported to, I was put in a room with eight individuals from various countries, and I had to accept this situation, adjust to these surroundings, and communicate with strangers. Furthermore, I was expected to get acquainted with their customs and communicate with them. I was taken aback. I couldn’t say anything or weep. I resembled a wooden statue. I went to bed without eating or going to the restroom, cud-

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dled up, and lifted the blanket to cover my head, as if to escape this world. I couldn’t get out of bed, froze in my bed, and could not sleep. The bustle in the room continued, as did the sound of phones, whispers, and talking. And I’m stuck in place, with no sleep or movement. I felt like an empty box. I’m lost, and I don’t even have my own clothing, much less luggage. I just have a little purse and my phone, which is filled with phone numbers and audio recordings of my children and friends. In the morning, there were noises in the room, and everyone began to move. I started to remove the cover from my head and examined the location until it seemed familiar. I rose slowly from the bed, unable to change my clothing due to a lack of other options. I opened the door of the room and took my first steps as if I were a child and walking for the first time. The camp was large and there were hundreds of refugees in it. After standing in a long line waiting for breakfast, I got it and ate it, then I started walking and getting to know most of the camp’s sections. I talked to the people in charge of the camp and told them I could help them talking to the migrants and translating what they said from Arabic to English. They provided me with some clothing and personal items like a toothbrush and toothpaste. I was overjoyed because I finally had my own belongings. How much did I need to shower after going four days without showering? When I got to the restroom, there was a large queue of ladies in front of the door, which startled me. There were around 25 women. Each of them had their own bag of clothes. Each lady was allowed to shower just ten minutes. One of the ladies advised me to put my clothing in a plastic bag with the phone and to keep all of my belongings with me inside the bathroom due to the fear of theft; when it was my time, I was astonished by the smallness of the space. And there was no shelf or storage space for the clothing. I had to find a quick solution after the voices outside were calling for me to get out quickly and someone was also knocking on the bathroom door. This increased my confusion and enlarged my fear that my clothes would fall on the floor and get wet, or that the water would destroy my phone and I would be unable to communicate with my family and my children. Despite everything I was able to finish my bath. I felt so comfortable after the shower and began to adjust to my surroundings. At the camp, we had three meals. The camp was located outside of town, with no nearby transportation, yet it had all of the necessities. My day began early, and I yearned for the scent of Arabic coffee, which I used to drink every morning in my homeland. I’m not a fan of Nescafe or American coffee. But I became used to the coffee that was served with breakfast every day.

Laila Hajulah: The many fears we live with

When it was time to sleep in the evening, I snuggled up on myself and pulled the duvet over my head, as if that was my little world. I fantasized about my family, my children, my house, and my beloved nation. It’s very difficult to be away from home. I could not remember a single day in my life when no one addressed me by name. What is the purpose of my name? I have a name, but no one knows it. I tried to remember the fleeting illusions of my day and to protect my roots, but I forgot the word “Mama”. I missed my children and aimed to keep them close to my heart. I felt like a whole new person. My existence was flipped upside down, with the branches of my soul interwoven between my history and the present I live in. My hair looked as if it had been ripped from its roots and placed somewhere else. I felt as if I were stranded in the desert, unsure of where east and west were, and I was facing the unknown. Nobody knows what destiny has in store for him or her. The nights were long and I couldn’t sleep; so at dawn, when everyone else was sleeping, I would remain beneath my blanket, penning down what I was feeling and chatting to the paper about my celebrity nostalgia. It felt like being a single ear of wheat in the middle of a vast field. Tears were streaming down my cheeks as I gazed out the window at the clouds capping the sky with lovely, clear white formations, piled on the palms of cold fresh air. We used to assemble in the evenings in a huge hall in the camp, watching TV, and everyone was bored of waiting for the granting of asylum, which took a long time, and the recurring question was every morning, did the letter arrive? Is there any news on the acceptance or denial of asylum? Evening discussions focused on the obstacles to get to Europe. Life in the camp is not simple; it is a significant shift in your life and mentality. We all bear the scars and emotions of estrangement from all we care about. We tried to keep it out of our prior life, but the war’s conditions forced us into this refuge and exile. Alienation is an illness, it is not a treatment. Nostalgia for one’s hometown and family is constant, and yearning is excruciatingly painful. Adapting to new circumstances is challenging, and forgetting the past is much more difficult. Everybody was nervous. Everyone inside it has lost so much and is looking for a safe place to stay and a new plan for their lives. Refugeeness is a deep sea without a shore. You have no idea where the waves are tossing you. It’s as if you’re on a ship without a captain. You are both distant and close, and remembrance never stops. All of the equations you trusted have altered. Everyone is filled with emptiness and rage. The camp inmates are always talking about ships of doom, the sea, and drowning. The children were running outdoors

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while the ladies were bragging about their lost nice houses and possessions. And how could they depart without bidding farewell to their homeland? And others have a thousand hadiths1 in their vocabulary of silence. And I’m alone, listening and whirling in my solitary orbit, reliving my days and looking out the window at the fainting lights. There was a constant war between me, myself and my memories, and I attempted to keep a tear from escaping my eyes, as I thought about the places I left without saying goodbye. I begged my Lord for forgiveness for the sin of forced desertion that I committed against my nation and my home. I wish we could bring back exceptional moments and locations that stay constant. I sighed heavily, refusing to speak to anybody. How many pathways have we traversed and who has joined us every day in the absence of covenants? We’ve moved away from them and our country, and the treachery was unavoidable. I don’t feel restricted in any way. When I’m alone in the camp garden, I take a nap. My anguish is distributed throughout my everyday life, and my tears overwhelm me. It’s challenging to find words that express my sentiments while I’m away from my children and my nation. There are occasions when individuals declined meals because it was not acceptable for them in the dining hall. Some found it difficult to adapt and adjust; some escaped outside the camp, while others wanted to return home one week after arriving. There are several sorts of pleasure and rage at the huge shift in their lives. While they were assisting me in translating their words, I had several psychological challenges. I went to the camp administration after breakfast until I was assigned to assist refugees in public hospitals and interpret their remarks into English. We had to walk a short way until we arrived at the stop of the bus that would take us into town. It was fall, and nature was in full bloom, with golden leaves covering the ground. Working with people helped me to get over my feelings of alienation and helped me to get through this tough time in my life. Every day I overcame some of the difficulties I faced. My second day of work began at that time. That day was remarkable because some theater people were seeking actors to play parts in the theater in collaboration with other actors, and they required an interpreter, and I was among the team they picked to accompany them to the rehearsals. This position became a real treat for me, particularly because I had previously worked as a translator and had spoken to the press regarding asylum-related issues. When one of 1

Hadith refers to the tradition of the Prophet Muhammad. It means both the individual tradition, but also the totality of the traditions.

Laila Hajulah: The many fears we live with

the theatrical performers was missing one day, I was the only available replacement, and I performed well. This was my first foray into the world of theater, which I adored and had hoped to perform for the rest of my life. I used to treat my work colleagues like family, forgetting about my exhaustion and the troubles that surrounded me. It made me happy when we went to the theater for rehearsals with the staff. This world was a place where I could escape the cacophony of my soul, as if I were removing all my concerns, and I felt like a butterfly colored with ecstasy flitting over the stage. Returning to my own experience, the theater became my universe, and I became a part of it. My family and friends, as well as the pleasure that surrounds me, comprise the group I work with. My journey to the rehearsal began early in the morning, despite the chilly weather, low temperatures, and fog, I used to adore wandering through the mist, taking in the fresh air and seeing the trees’ leaves spread on the ground, bringing serenity and amazing beauty. It took me 20 minutes to get to the rehearsal location. I had gotten a residence permit, had left the camp, and had relocated to Vienna, where timeliness is essential. A small covering of snow had fallen on the trees surrounding us. Yellow, green, and white create a stunning color scheme. We had a staff of roughly 150 individuals, including actors and others from several countries. With small breaks, rehearsals began in the morning and concluded in the evening. I performed on stage among the best European stars, just like in a wonderful story. As a Syrian lady, I felt humiliated, pleased, and puzzled. A jumble of conflicting emotions accompanied my rapid pulse, and my heart nearly burst from the intensity of the sensation. I was delighted to see such a huge crowd get out to see it. The theater has three levels, each with gilded booths and aged wine-colored chairs. This is the realm of theater, and it seems like I’m in a dream world. Many teams work behind the scenes to make up and outfit the performers. It is satirical political theater that addresses ideas regarding refugees and their plight in a humorous manner. When the lights go out, we change into new beings and add new twists to the parts we’ve already played. When the audience cheers for us, we forget how tired we are and are overcome with joy. The first theatrical work is the play Operation Traiskirchen, which won the award for best political satire. The musical was performed on the Vienna stage for a whole year, and the preceding work is also by the same director, Tina Leisch. Rebellion was a play by Elsayed Kandil, the worldwide known director. I also par-

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ticipated in a number of movies on asylum: such for example, movies featured in Vienna’s theaters, like Das schönste Land der Welt, directed by Zelimir Zilnik or We Only Seek for Better, directed by Leonie Krachler.

Those in darkness drop from sight—the hypervisibility, invisibility, and voicelessness of refugees Monika Mokre

The 1928 Threepenny Opera by Kurt Weill and Bert Brecht is about the poor, as the title already suggests. To its probably most famous song, the “Ballad of Mack the Knife”, Brecht added a first stanza when the opera was produced as a movie in 1931: “There are some who are in darkness And the others are in light And you see the ones in brightness Those in darkness drop from sight.”1 The stanza summarizes the meaning of the opera—the poor are in darkness and, thus, invisible. Nevertheless, the opera also reveals how this darkness might be used for “dark deeds”, such as for criminal purposes. The crimes of Mack the Knife are described with ironic admiration in the ballad. Today the poor are still in darkness and have dropped from sight; they do not fit into the self-image of capitalism as a system of opportunities open to all willing to take them. Or, they may once again be in darkness, after the neoliberal turn ended the short period of the welfare state in several countries of the Global North. Poverty and migration frequently go hand in hand, or in other words: we can see intersectional relations between nationality/ethnicity and class. Migration often leads to de-classification—not exclusively but especially for migrants without a stable existence in their country of residence. Whether or not 1

Cf. e.g.: https://musikguru.de/hildegard-knef/songtext-mack-the-knife-mackie-mess er-369729.html, 2023−01−20.

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such an existence can be stabilized does not usually depend on the efforts (or lack thereof) of migrants themselves but on state policies enshrined in laws and their implementation.

The invisibility of migrants National laws define the living conditions of so-called “foreigners” and differentiate between them according to their legal status in their country of residence. The consequences of such legal provisions can be exemplified on the case of Austria’s asylum laws and procedures. More often than not, asylum procedures are very long, and it is next to impossible to find legal employment in this period. The outcome of these procedures is not easily predictable, not even for experts, and less so for those concerned. The high number of decisions in first instance by the Federal Office for Immigration and Asylum (Bundesamt für Fremdenwesen und Asyl, BFA) that are corrected in second instance by the Federal Administrative Court (Bundesverwaltungsgericht, BVwG) bear proof of this unpredictability: the two authorities specialized on this question obviously come to quite different results in their assessments.2 Once a negative decision is confirmed as final, the now former asylum seekers should leave the country—voluntarily or involuntarily. There is no way to change the application to another form of residence, e.g., to become a migrant worker, even if an employer would be interested in hiring a former asylum seeker or keeping him_her employed. The term “voluntary” is rather a euphemism, when people do not have any chances of regularizing their status in the country of residence. In many cases, they can only choose between “voluntary” return and involuntary return, i.e., deportation. However, deportation is not possible to every country at all times, as the country of origin must accept its deported citizens. The rather cynical academic term for this situation is the “deportation gap”3 . People are illegalized but cannot be forced to leave. There usually are legal solutions to such a situation—in Austria in form of the status of “toleration”4, which is conferred

2 3 4

Cf.: https://www.derstandard.at/story/2000116209191/asylbehoerde-entschied-in-45prozent-von-rund-17-000-faellen, 2023−01−20. Cf. e.g.: https://inex.univie.ac.at/previous-projects/inside-the-deportation-gap/, 2023−01−20. https://www.jusline.at/gesetz/fpg/paragraf/46a, 2023−01−20.

Monika Mokre: Those in darkness drop from sight

for one year and entitles to the same basic services as for asylum seekers. It does not allow former asylum seekers to access the labor market. But, after this year, it is frequently possible to change to yet another legal status that enables them to pursue regular work. This is a rather generous regulation; the only problem is that it is rarely used. Instead, people who cannot leave the country—or do not want to leave the country after years of trying to reach the European Union and obtain a legal status here—are completely illegalized. Nobody cares how they will survive; they have become invisible—for society, politics, and statistics. And they must make themselves invisible, as every encounter with the police can lead to detention and, potentially, deportation. Although illegalized migrants are collectively invisible as people with needs, ambitions, and abilities, it is not so easy for individual migrants to make themselves invisible in their whole existence, which is frequently framed as a potential threat to public order. This is especially true for migrants looking differently from the majority population. Racial profiling is an illegal but very common practice among police and other guardians of public order. “’Racial Profiling’ refers to the discriminatory practice by law enforcement officials of targeting individuals for suspicion of crime based on the individual’s race, ethnicity, religion or national origin.”5 Racial profiling is yet just one of the elements of racial injustice by the legal and executive system. “Anytime a person is denied their constitutional rights based upon the color of their skin, racial injustice has occurred.”6 The most prominent case of racial injustice in the recent past was the murder of George Floyd by the police after his arrest due to the alleged use of counterfeit money. George Floyd became globally visible after his violent death and, for some time, rendered visibility to other victims of racial injustice. On a much smaller scale, racial injustice became visible in Austria after the Nigerian asylum seeker Marcus Omofuma was killed by police brutality during his deportation in 1999. A (privately funded) monument for Marcus Omofuma was erected close to Vienna’s Museumsquartier7 in 2003. In the same year, the killing of the Mauritanian Seibane Wague in Vienna by police brutality also led to public protests (Ghadimi 2007).

5 6 7

https://www.aclu.org/other/racial-profiling-definition, 2023−01−20. https://bencrump.com/blog/racial-injustice-in-america/, 2023−01−20. https://blackcentraleurope.com/sources/1989-today/the-marcus-omofuma-memoria l-in-vienna-2003/, 2023−01−20.

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More commonly, however, another form of visibility follows the encounter between people forced to be invisible and state agents: they become hyper-visible as criminals, frequently before they have even been condemned. In this form, they re-enter public visibility in statistics and as reprehensible individuals. Thus, they are morally condemned on an individual basis and, at the same time, defined as representatives of a nation, an ethnicity or, even, the unspecified group of refugees.

The hypervisibility of criminal migrants Different discriminating assessments specifically intersect with regard to crimes committed by migrants against women. In these cases, general racist prejudice becomes more concrete and is even enhanced based on assumptions of “culturally” conditioned misogyny. This mechanism became obvious with regard to femicides in Austria in 2021, when a total of 29 women were killed by men in their close environment.8 While acts of murder generally declined in Austria in recent years, the level of femicides remained on the same level or even increased9 . Maria Rösslhumer, Managing Director of the Association of Autonomous Austrian Women’s Shelters, understands violence against women as an acquired, socialized problem based on traditional role models. As soon as a woman tries to leave this role model, men try to get her back into this traditional system.10 Thus, women are killed by men, and these men share a specific understanding of the respective roles of women and men in society. This well-known situation is frequently framed as a problem of various “backwards” cultures and, thus, often as a problem of migrants. In case of the 29 Austrian femicides committed in 2021, there were 30 men identified as suspects. Out of these 30 suspects, 17 were Austrian by citizen-

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9 10

According to other sources, there were 31 femicides. However, this could not be proved in two cases, see: https://www.moment.at/story/femizide-morde-frauen-202 1, 2023−01−20. https://www.moment.at/story/femizide-morde-frauen-2021, 2023−01−20. https://orf.at/stories/3237491/, 2023−01−20.

Monika Mokre: Those in darkness drop from sight

ship and origin.11 These cases, however, were framed by the media as terrible, individual cases without mentioning any possibly structural causes.12 The most prominent femicide of 2021 was the killing of Leonie, a girl of 13 years, in Vienna in late June 2021. Leonie’s body was found in the street, but she had been killed in an apartment, where she had spent the evening with four young men from Afghanistan. They gave her drugs and at least two of them violated her when she was already unconscious. She died of heart failure, probably due to the administered drugs and the subsequent sexual intercourse. According to the suspects, they tried to wake Leonie by giving her milk and yogurt, and putting her under the shower. When this was unsuccessful, they wrapped her in a carpet and carried her out into the street. One of the suspects anonymously called an ambulance. Shortly after her body had been found, two young Afghans of 16 and 18 years were arrested. A third suspect of 23 years was detained a few days later, and an international search for a fourth suspect of 22 years began. He was found one month later by the police in London and extradited to Austria in March 2022. Two of the suspects admitted their involvement in the crime by the end of July 2021. There is no doubt that this was a terrible crime. One of an appalling number of femicides in 2021. One could discuss if this crime was worse than the other femicides due to the mass violation and, maybe, also the use of drugs. One could also discuss this case as different from other femicides as the death of the girl was not intended. However, this would be a fruitless and cynical debate. As usual—in general and regarding non-Austrian suspects, in particular—the suspects were already subject to prejudgment as perpetrators by the media and politics when they were arrested. Furthermore, public discourse mostly did not frame the narrative of this crime as one of many femicides in Austria but, instead, as a crime by Afghan men or by male refugees, in general. Leading politicians played a paramount role in shaping this discourse. One day after the first two suspects were arrested, then Austrian Chancellor Kurz tweeted:

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12

See: https://www.aoef.at/images/04a_zahlen-und-daten/Frauenmorde_2021_Liste-A OEF.pdf, 2023−01−20. The two doubtful cases (16 and 30) were not included in the calculation. The estimation is based on the plausible assumption that perpetrators were Austrian when no citizenship was mentioned by the media. See e.g.: https://www.krone.at/2320540, 2023−01−20.

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“The cruel act that has been committed in Vienna makes me deeply concerned & angry. It is unacceptable that people come to our country, state that they are looking for protection & then commit cruel crimes. My deepest sympathy goes to the family of the girl! I promise that we will do everything to ensure that the perpetrators are punished with the full force of the law. With me, there will never be a stop to deportations to Afghanistan and a softening of asylum laws towards delinquent asylum seekers!”13 This statement was issued in late June 2021, at the time of the offensive of the Taliban which led to their takeover of Afghan government in August. The United Nations reported a record-breaking number of killed civilians in May and June 2021.14 The Austrian Minister of the Interior took the debate one step further by generally criticizing the EU asylum system: “The EU asylum system is set up completely wrong. The Geneva Refugee Convention and its original idea have not been implemented for a long time. Because the Refugee Convention says that people should get protection from persecution in the nearest safe country, not that an asylum seeker can choose the country where he wants to live. This is a fundamental flaw in our EU laws, which forces us to let every asylum seeker into the country, no matter where they come from. […] The EU asylum system cannot work like this. It must be possible to take criminals out of the country immediately—they have abused our right to hospitality and have no business here.”15 In this context, the Minister not only insisted that deportations to Afghanistan would continue but also mentioned that the possibility for deportations to Syria would be assessed. This clearly shows the generalization of one crime not only with regard to a nationality but to refugees in general. The crime also provided the larger party of the ruling coalition, the Austrian People’s Party (OeVP), with the opportunity to reactivate a long-standing debate about the possibility of preventive detention of “dangerous” asy-

13 14 15

https://twitter.com/sebastiankurz/status/1409854598207188994, 2023−01−20. https://news.un.org/en/story/2021/07/1096382, 2023−01−20. https://www.sn.at/politik/innenpolitik/asyl-debatte-nach-maedchentod-spaltet-tuer kis-gruene-regierung-106119202, 2023−01−20.

Monika Mokre: Those in darkness drop from sight

lum seekers. This measure was announced in the program of the conservativegreen government in 202016 , and heavily criticized by the two opposition parties, large parts of civil society, as well as within the Green party itself. The head of the Green party argued that the provision had been accepted by his party as it would be legally impossible to implement it.17 While, in fact, a change of the Austrian Constitution (needing a two-thirds majority in Parliament) would be necessary for that, politically, the argument was highly problematic. The question of preventive detention was once again publicly discussed after the terrorist attack in Austria in November 2020, although the perpetrator had not been an asylum seeker but an Austrian citizen who had spent his whole life in Austria. 18 It came to the fore another time after the killing of Leonie—among others, the mother of Leonie was quoted, saying that her daughter would still be alive if preventive detention had been implemented.19 Due to the constitutional barrier mentioned above, the debate was not continued for a long time. The second government party, the Austrian Greens, remained mostly silent in the debate about the killing of Leonie and were heavily criticized by the larger government party for having called for a deportation stop to Afghanistan some weeks before the killing. However, a widely published conflict between the OeVP-led Ministry of the Interior and the Green-led Ministry of Justice developed regarding the asylum case of the suspects. As two of them had been convicted for crimes before, the Federal Office for Immigration and Asylum had withdrawn their status of protection. Against this decision, a complaint had been lodged with the Federal Administrative Court, which had not decided on it although the time limit for this decision had already passed. While the Federal Office for Immigration and Asylum is subordinated to the Ministry of the Interior, the Federal Administrative Court is to the Ministry of Justice; the two ministries accused each other of overly lengthy procedures.20 In this specific case, the general problem of lengthy asylum cases came to the

16 17 18 19 20

https://www.dieneuevolkspartei.at/Download/Regierungsprogramm_2020.pdf, 2023−01−20. https://orf.at/stories/3149844/, 2023−01−20. https://www.derstandard.at/story/2000121928117/wie-die-sicherungshaft-fuer-terror isten-gelingen-koennte, 2023−01−20. https://www.raoe.at/news/leonie-und-manuela-verbesserungsvorschlaege-und-mas snahmenbuendel/, 2023−01−20. https:// www. falter.at/ zeitung/ 20210701/ mordfall- leonie- abschubumkehr , 2023−01−20.

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fore, exclusively focusing on the necessity of faster negative decisions and deportations. Before Leonie was killed, the largest opposition party, the Social Democratic Party (SPOe), had also raised the question whether or not deportations to Afghanistan should still take place. After the crime, the party leader demanded the deportation to Afghanistan both of criminal asylum seekers and after a negative asylum decision.21 Another SPOe politician, Hans Peter Doskozil, renowned for his hard position on asylum, proposed to carry out all asylum procedures outside of Austria, at Austrian embassies in the countries of origin or in neighboring countries.22 The New Austria and Liberal Forum (Neos), another opposition party, demanded faster asylum procedures and deportations of recognized refugees after serious crimes.23 Moreover, a ban of criminal asylum seekers from specific public spaces was brought into the debate from this side.24 The third opposition party, the populist, right-wing Freedom Party of Austria (FPOe), stated that the government was too lenient in asylum issues. A provincial politician of this party, Gottfried Waldhaeusl from Lower Austria, significantly increased the level of aggression in the debate by initiating a petition for a referendum for immediate deportation of criminal asylum seekers.25 The petition gathered the necessary 8,401 signatures to publicize the petition which is still ongoing. It would need 100,000 signatures in order to be dealt with in Parliament. Waldhaeusl justified this initiative by calling the asylum system a “humanitarian trap”: “The population has had enough; they no longer want to watch asylum seekers exploiting our social system but not abiding by anything. […] Who protects us, who protects our population from these crim-

21 22 23 24 25

https://kurier.at/politik/inland/mord-an-leonie-13-rendi-wagner-fuer-abschiebunge n-nach-afghanistan/401429079, 2023−01−20. https://www.kleinezeitung.at/politik/innenpolitik/6005107/Doskozil_In-Oesterreichsollten-keine-Asylverfahren-mehr-stattfinden?offset=25&page=2, 2023−01−20. https://www.oe24.at/oesterreich/politik/asylverfahren-muessen-schneller-und-faire r-abgeschlossen-werden/482604433, 2023−01−20. https://kurier.at/chronik/oesterreich/mordfall-leonie-neos-fuer-haertere-gangart-ge gen-straffaellige-asylwerber/401450566, 2023−01−20. Already in the past, Gottfried Waldhaeusl proposed and carried out problematic measures against asylum seekers; in this vein, he put asylum seekers who were minor of age in a detention camp in 2018, cf.: https://www.asyl.at/de/info/news/dasdossierwal dhaeusl/, 2023−01−20.

Monika Mokre: Those in darkness drop from sight

inals? In this context, we must not care whether torture or the death penalty awaits the perpetrators in their ‘home country’.”26 While criminal tendencies were generally ascribed to Afghan men, any kind of analysis of the individual backgrounds of the criminal act was rigorously rejected. In the first press conference after the crime by the Federal Minister of the Interior, Karl Nehammer, a journalist of the Austrian Broadcasting Corporation (ORF) said, “Minister Nehammer, the presumption of innocence applies. We are talking here about asylum seekers who have only experienced war in their homeland. Regardless of what they did, shouldn’t Austria do more when it comes to trauma? The question arises whether enough care is being taken of young Afghans.”27 The Minister answered, “What makes me very thoughtful is when the parents of the victim hear what you just asked. Your question insinuates that Austrian society would have contributed to a crime and that the Afghans should simply have been better looked after.”28 The question of this journalist led to a campaign against him in mass and social media; he was accused of reversing the roles of perpetrator and victim—although he never implied a responsibility of the victim or its family. Actually, questions of whether the girl had been in Vienna because she had been neglected by her family and whether she had been addicted to drugs had come up shortly after the discovery of Leonie’s body but were no longer pursued after the Afghan suspects were arrested.29 Still, the journalist apologized for his question already on the evening of the press conference.30 The accusation of reversing the roles of perpetrator and victim was brought up once more a few days later by Chancellor Kurz. Some NGOs as well as individual supporters published an open letter to the government stating: “For a long time, organizations for the protection against violence have been demanding better cooperation between authorities, better protection for victims, more prevention work and significantly better funding. 26 27 28 29 30

https://noe.orf.at/stories/3111547/, 2023−01−20. https://exxpress.at/orf-journalist-entschuldigt-sich-fuer-sager-ueber-traumatisiertemoerder/, 2023−01−20. https://www.heute.at/s/traumatisierte-afghanen-journalist-sorgt-fuer-eklat-100149 836, 2023−01−20. See e.g.: https://www.heute.at/s/was-tat-opfer-13-aus-tulln-alleine-in-wien-10014957 4, 2023−01−20. https://exxpress.at/orf-journalist-entschuldigt-sich-fuer-sager-ueber-traumatisiertemoerder/

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Instead of finally implementing these demands, some political actors are now starting an asylum debate. They are also stirring up sweeping, racist prejudice against more than 40,000 people of Afghan origin living in Austria, thereby distracting attention not only from their own political problems, but also from the real problem: the rising number of femicides in Austria. The killing of a person is not a question of origin, religion, or residence status, but of the individual history and personal responsibility of a perpetrator. Here, the killing of a young woman is politically instrumentalized and, in addition, a severely racist attack is launched against a population group that cannot defend itself against it—this is disrespectful and reprehensible. Furthermore, deportation cannot be a punishment: It would be unconstitutional to deport people to Afghanistan—a country where death or torture are imminent—based on a prejudgment in ongoing proceedings. Perpetrators must be sentenced in a due process of law and serve their sentence in Austria.”31 Chancellor Kurz claimed to be shocked by this alleged perpetrator-victim reversal: “There are truths that must be voiced, and I will continue to say them and not go back to business as usual. There is not a single excuse that justifies this bestial act. Therefore, I once again oppose any form of perpetrator-victim reversal and misunderstood tolerance. […] There must be more deportations, not less, especially when it comes to asylum seekers who have committed crimes.”32 It is neither possible nor necessary to describe the widespread discourse on this crime at more depth. One should mention, however, that the family of the victim and the lawyer of the family were quoted in the media as well as the mother of one of the suspects. She said that her son had been in love with the victim—and was heavily mocked for this statement.33 Furthermore, one article included interviews with other Afghan people in Austria, making the—rather 31 32 33

https://www.asyl.at/de/info/news/stoppderrassistischenablenkungsmanoever/, 2023−01−20. https://www.nachrichten.at/politik/innenpolitik/getoetete-13-jaehrige-ngo-siehtrass istische-ablenkungsmanoever-kurz-verteidigt-sich;art385,3425282, 2023−01−20. https://www.krone.at/2480085, 2023−01−20.

Monika Mokre: Those in darkness drop from sight

trivial but in this context important—point that there is no unified Afghan community in Austria, as Afghans came to Austria at different points in time, due to different reasons, and live in very different circumstances due to legal status, employment, education etc.34 The suspects were never heard, except for some quotes from their police interviews used to show their incredibility and remorselessness. Also, voices from other people in similar situations, i.e., rejected asylum seekers or other people without a stable residence permit, were lacking in the debate. Long before a (still outstanding) court judgment, the suspects were sentenced by the public—in an encompassing way: as murderers, violators, people being in Austria under false pretenses, people having the wrong citizenship etc. The accusation of these four young men turned into an accusation of all Afghans, if not all refugees, and, at the same time, the four suspects were described as even more guilty since they were refugees and Afghans. While we describe here an especially brutal and tragic crime as well as an especially racist and xenophobic discourse, the main elements of this discourse are well known, and aptly summarized by the migration researcher Abdelmalek Sayad: “(...) The fact of being an immigrant delinquent (or a delinquent immigrant), (has) in general a rather aggravating effect. (...) Immigration appears essentially as delinquency in itself and, by extension, as a source of delinquency” (quoted after Mennel and Mokre 2015, 11). An illegalized migrant describes his situation as follows, “I always speak of two prisons, the small prison and the big prison. The big prison is all out there. The small prison is where you go when you do stupid things, you find yourself there to pay for it. The big prison is mainly for sans papiers and Harraga, that’s all of Europe.” (S. and Kader 2015, 100) The big prison of irregular and precarious migrants makes them invisible most of the time and hyper-visible at other times. And it always silences them—they do not have a voice, they cannot speak.

The subaltern cannot speak In her famous essay “Can the Subaltern Speak”, Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak (1993) elaborates on her concept of subalternity. The term “subaltern” goes back 34

https://www.wienerzeitung.at/nachrichten/politik/wien-politik/2113764-Ein-Afghane -war-das.html, 2023−01−20.

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to Gramsci who defines it as follows: “The subaltern classes, by definition, are not unified and cannot unite until they are able to become a ‘State’: their history, therefore, is intertwined with that of civil society, and thereby with the history of States and groups of States.” (Gramsci 1971, 42) The Subaltern Studies Group uses another definition of the subaltern, also stating the impossibility of a positive definition of the subaltern: “The social groups and elements included in this category (of people) represent the demographic difference between the total Indian population and all those whom we have described as the ‘elite’.” (quoted after Spivak 1993, 79) Spivak herself refrains from defining the subaltern except as a difference and, furthermore, maintains that every attempt to define the subaltern is either a way to speak for them, to represent them (out of a non-subaltern position) or to assimilate them into the hegemonic system. “Outside (though not completely so) the circuit of the international division of labor, there are people whose consciousness we cannot grasp if we close off our benevolence by constructing a homogeneous Other referring only to our own place in the seat of the Same or the Self. Here are subsistence farmers, unorganized peasant labor, the tribals and the communities of zero workers on the street or in the countryside. To confront them is not to represent [vertreten] them but to learn to represent [darstellen] ourselves.” (Spivak 1993, 79) We can see this form of representation very clearly in the discourse on the suspects of Leonie’s killing. Many people and groups represented themselves in the sense of performing [darstellen], including those defending the rights of asylum seekers and refugees, while the suspects themselves were not represented in the sense of advocating [vertreten] by anybody. In fact, apart from the journalist asking for possible traumatization, nobody showed any interest in the individual fates of the assumed perpetrators. Here, it became obvious that those who usually argue the case of refugees were unable and/or unwilling to include the perspective of the four accused men into discourse. They did not dare to take their side due to the well-founded fear of hurting the general case of refugees. On a more fundamental level, representation would have been impossible in any case—according to Spivak, subalternity cannot be grasped in hegemonic discourse. Thus, while the four suspects were individually very effectively muted by their imprisonment, which nearly always leads to invisibility and voicelessness, according to Spivak, their subalternity made them unable to speak in the sense of being understandable even before that. In her concept of subalternity, Spivak opposes the view of Michel Foucault and Gilles Deleuze about the voices of the oppressed. Although both philosophers subscribe to the deconstruction of the sovereign subject, they display

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a naïve admiration for the ability of the oppressed to speak for themselves –Deleuze by aiming “to establish conditions where the prisoners themselves would be able to speak”, Foucault by maintaining that “the masses know perfectly well, clearly […] they know far better than [the intellectual] and they certainly say it very well.” (quoted after Spivak 1993, 69). This acclamation of the spontaneous consciousness (and ability to express this consciousness) of the “masses” does not give them voice, according to Spivak, but, quite on the contrary, defines a decisive role for the intellectual practice of making this voice audible and understandable in a transparent way, without distorting its representation by the own position of the intellectual—“the first-world intellectual masquerading as the absent non-representer who lets the oppressed speak for themselves.” (Spivak 1993, 88) However, even this form of representation was absent in the discourse on Leonie’s killing apart from the question of the journalist. Spivak (1993, 72) sees the ability of making oneself understandable—to speak—as coming out of “intercourse with society” defined by “economic conditions of existence that separate their mode of life.” The possibility of articulation is based on class consciousness, which is not a direct consequence of desire or libido but a feeling of community from one’s position in society and mediated by ideology. Subalterns are outside of this ideologically constructed societal structure. They are not the oppressed class but those outside of the class structure. For the subaltern to be included and, thus, understandable, they need knowledge about their own social relations and their societal position. This knowledge is transmitted by ideology. “In a critique such as Chaudhury’s, the association of ‘consciousness’ with ‘knowledge’ omits the crucial middle term of ‘ideological production’: ‘Consciousness, according to Lenin, is associated with a knowledge of the interrelationships between different classes and groups, i.e., a knowledge of the materials that constitute society ... These definitions acquire a meaning only within the problematic within a definite knowledge object—to understand change in history, or specifically, change from one mode to another, keeping the question of the specificity of a particular mode out of the focus.’” (Spivak 1993, 81) Thus, every attempt to directly include the subaltern is futile. The best intellectuals can do is to render visible the mechanism of exclusion, to use their

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privilege for an analytical approach to this question, not to render vocal the individual. The intervention of NGOs in the discourse on the killing of Leonie can be seen as an example for that. If (former) subalterns can speak, they are no longer subaltern. They can only become understandable by assimilation, i.e., by a reduction of the complexity and incomprehensibility of their status to a clear-cut position in society, be it a subordinate or an elitist one. The question by the journalist for the personal lives of the suspects could have opened a space for such a position, the position of a subordinate, problematic, maybe even defective member of society—but still a member of society. This reminds of Judith Butler’s interpretation of Antigone (quoted after Kämpf 2004, 53). Antigone, the offspring of the incestuous marriage between Oedipus and his mother Iocaste, has an impossible position in her family and, thus, also in society: her father is her brother, her mother is her grandmother etc. In Butler’s eyes, Antigone’s claim to mourn her brother is not an ethical claim rooted in family relations that is turned against the political claim of the state, but it is an attempt to find any position at all to define a place from which she can speak. Antigone is not a person at the margins of society but a person without any position in society. Even an identity at the margins of society gives a person a place from which to speak; therefore, marginal identities are accepted by people, as they are better than no identity at all; they enable a—deprived form of—social existence. Antigone is a person at the margins of the human comparable to the four Afghan suspects. Antigone’s manifest claim is to mourn her brother. This claim is illegitimate as her brother broke the existing order. In the same vein, the mourning of the mother of one of the suspects for the situation of her son has been ridiculed by the media. His fate is ungrievable. The question which lives are grievable has also been discussed by Butler and, here, she returns once more to Antigone. There is less a dehumanizing discourse at work here than a refusal of discourse that produces dehumanization as a result. Violence against those who are already not quite living, that is, living in a state of suspension between life and death, leaves a mark that is no mark. There will be no public act of grieving (said Creon in Antigone). (Butler 2004, 36) Butler speaks about situations of war and killed enemy soldiers who, framed as perpetrators, have lost their right to be mourned. The same holds true for criminals, more so for those accused of a serious crime, and even more so for those

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accused of a serious crime holding the wrong citizenship. Not even a question about the violence done to these people is allowed, as the example of the journalist shows. As subalterns do not have the possibility to make themselves understood, they are also deprived from any consistent self-understanding. The “I” as an imaginary construction, as the sedimentation of idealized images is constructed by its relation to an “other” (Lacan, quoted after Lummerding 2005, 100). Identity can only be constituted by identification processes with socially and culturally available discursive constructs (Lummerding 2005, 103). The subject inscribes herself into the visible, into the symbolic order in relation to an imagined other (Lacan, quoted after Lummerding 2005, 258). Migrants are required to inscribe themselves into the symbolic order in specific ways, usually framed in political discourse as “integration”. The fuzziness of this term enables different interpretations ranging from respect for the rule of law to knowledge of the national language, gainful employment or even adaptation to local eating and clothing habits. At the same time, especially irregular migrants but also asylum seekers are frequently hindered by the state and society to integrate in such ways. Migrants themselves perceive the symbolic order of their country of residence from their own perspective. Their understanding of this order and the opportunities it might offer frequently leads to the decision to migrate. Individual freedom and the possibility to create an independent life according to one’s own desires form important parts of this understanding. Arguably, these expectations do not deviate from those of citizens in the Global North. “Even as a child I saw the people from Europe at the port, I went there to look. The neighbors talked about Europe. We saw in the commercials, on TV, all the things in Europe that we didn’t have. At some point, Europe moves into your dreams. You don’t know what it’s like there, but you want to go there.” (Musafir 2015, 133) These dreams are frequently related to opportunities of consumption, as consumption forms a central part of the self-representation of the Global North. Especially for men, these dreams are also related to the idea of free sexuality, often intersecting with the patriarchal understanding of men as the leading part in a partnership. It includes a certain understanding of different freedoms and obligations for men and women in partnerships as well as an understanding of gender roles as not very different from concepts still prevailing in large parts of the population of the Global North. Femicides and violations—irrespective of the citizenship of the perpetrators—are frequently caused by male claims to power over women, especially by men who feel deprived of power

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they feel entitled to. This does not excuse any of these deeds. In order to prevent them, however, it would be important to understand such mechanisms and make potentially threatened women understand them. This has frequently been demanded by women’s organizations as a consequence of the accumulation of femicides in Austria, mostly in vain. Instead, the preferred solutions of politicians was the deportation of any men in this group that can be deported. Spivak discusses the question of subalternity with regard to the Global South. Refugees and migrants form a link between the Global North and the Global South. They are externally defined as a group while their own identifications differ as much from each other as their demographic qualities. Their position in society is an unwanted and disturbing one from the perspective of the nation state—sizeable and relevant groups of migrants, of non-citizens, are not foreseen in the national order; their sheer presence disturbs the order of the nation state (cf. Sayad 2015). They do not have a relation to society based on ideology and fall outside of the rationality of the nation state in which they live; a rationality which is the propriety of a collective structured and defined by imperialist capitalism. They must translate who they are into this system or remain untranslatable. “The idea of the untranslatable as not something that one cannot translate but something one never stops (not) translating.” (Spivak 2010, 39) The only possibility for (some) refugees to translate who they are into society is by finding a position in society and distance themselves from the subaltern status of refugees. Hegemonic discourse excludes refugees from society; counter-hegemonic discourse (of self-defined representatives of refugees) is, on the one hand, weak and not able to really dislocate the mainstream discourse. On the other hand, it is in itself differentiated—while a small minority demands the recognition and legalization of everybody staying here, mostly, there are differentiations between “good” and “bad” refugees. This differentiation can be drawn due to flight reasons (e.g., legitimate war refugees versus “economic refugees”) or individual behavior (e.g., integrated, Westernized refugees versus orthodox Muslims or criminal refugees). Frequently, one can also observe a differentiation according to gender and age (women and children in need of protection versus dangerous young men). In order to leave their subaltern status, individual refugees have to find their position in society according to these external differentiations; the need to prove that they are truly deserving, potentially by defaming other refugees for not being the same. Thus, refugees remain subaltern. If some of them find the ability to speak, to become comprehensible, they do so by finding another position in the soci-

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etal order, not as a refugee but as a good worker, a gifted student, a husband and father etc. In this way, an individual refugee can become able to speak and, thus, leaves the status of the subaltern. Those who have no place in the rationality of society cannot express themselves rationally in society. As soon as they take over the rationality of this society, they forsake their own. Spivak describes the epistemic violence of imperialism as a “subtext of the palimpsestic narrative of imperialism” which created a “‘subjugated knowledge’, a whole set of knowledges that have been disqualified as inadequate to their task or insufficiently elaborated: naive knowledges, located low down on the hierarchy, beneath the required level of cognition or scientificity.” (Spivak 1993, 76) Refugees come from countries whose knowledge has been subjugated over centuries and their more recent experiences are subjugated to the “language of the sovereign” (Buden 2013). They are forced to translate their lives into the language of the law of their country of residence. This law is the result of Western rationality, including national state thinking, in which the mere possibility of migration forms an exception from the national rule with very strict regulations. The ways in which refugees understand and describe their lives remain irrational in the context of hegemonic discourse (cf. Mokre 2020a)

Conclusions (March 2022) In the last few weeks, the discourse on refugees has dramatically changed. The Russian invasion of Ukraine has led to a huge wave of solidarity with Ukrainian citizens by the EU, its Member States, and civil society. 21 years after its passing, the Temporary Protection Directive of the EU35 has been used for the first time. Ukrainian citizens, people under international protection in Ukraine, and the families of these two groups get protection in the EU for one year, in a country of their choice, with access to health and social care, education, and

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the labor market36. EU Member States implement this decision with huge effort and civil society supports Ukrainian refugees. Ukrainian citizens are in the limelight nowadays, visible as victims of an unjust war worthy of every kind of help available. The future will tell how long this limelight will prevail and if solidarity will show greater perseverance than in 2015. Light can only be perceived of when there is darkness as well. The Ukraine crisis led to significant changes in the discourse on refugees but not to a paradigm shift. While, in recent years, all refugees were framed as problematic, now, a specific group has been exempted from this judgment (Cf. Mokre 2022). In order to differentiate those coming from Ukraine from other forced migrants, Austrian authorities address them as “displaced persons” and not as refugees. The German term for “displaced persons” (“Vertriebene”) has strong connotations to the German-speaking minorities who had to leave Central and Eastern European countries after WWII. By using this term, another form of differentiation between refugees is reenforced: in contrast to other people seeking protection, Ukrainians are defined as European co-citizens with similar values as other Europeans. Furthermore, women and children are coming from Ukraine (as men in fighting age are not allowed to leave the country), and, as mentioned before, women and children are generally defined as more in need of protection than men (Cf. Mokre 2020b). There are similarities between this current form of differentiation and differences between groups of refugees brought forward in 2015 when only Syrian refugees were seen worthy of protection. While some refugees have become highly and positively visible, others remain in darkness. Not only all those who flee from other countries than Ukraine but also those who have lived in Ukraine but are not Ukrainian citizens, among them many BiPoC, especially students from Africa. There is no temporary protection foreseen for them; neighboring countries of Ukraine such as Romania close their borders to them, and Poland puts them into confinement. Finally, there is a considerable group of Ukrainian citizens who are discriminated against when they try to reach safe countries, namely Roma in Ukraine (see Müller in this volume). Furthermore, out of the 400,000 Ukrainian Roma, about 10 percent do not have any identity documents. They

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are hindered from entering neighboring countries except for Moldavia where they are segregated from other Ukrainian citizens.37 Visibility and invisibility are ambiguous situations. Individual invisibility is a privilege of white people in white contexts—as is their collective visibility as fully recognized members of society. The collective invisibility of refugees hinders them to reach this status. Their individual visibility leads to racial profiling and discrimination. The opportunity of being heard and understood and to translate oneself into societal relations is a desirable state for individuals and collectives. And it is a desirable state for a democratic society that its multiplicity is mirrored and represented—in the fullness of its bright and dark parts.

References Buden, Boris. 2013.“Translating Beyond Europe, in: a communality that cannot speak: Europe in translation.” Transversal Web Journal 06. http://transversal .at/transversal/0613/Buden/en, [accessed 20.01.2023]. Butler, Judith. 2004: Precarious Life. The Powers of Mourning and Violence. London, New York. Ghadimi, Aram. 2007. “Zum Tod von Seibane Wague: Eine Chronologie inner- und außergerichtlicher Ereignisse.” Stichproben. Wiener Zeitschrift für kritische Afrikastudien 13, no. 7: 163–192. https://stichproben.univie.ac.at /fileadmin/user_upload/p_stichproben/Artikel/Nummer13/Nr13_Ghadim i.pdf, [accessed 20.01.2023]. Gramsci Antonio. 1971: Selections from the Prison Notebooks. Edited and translated by Q. Hoare and G. N. Smith. London, New York: International Publisher. Kämpf, Heike. 2004: “Die Unerreichbarkeit der Demokratie. Kontingenz, Identität und Politische Handlungsfähigkeit nach Judith Butler.” In Die Rückkehr des Politischen. Demokratietheorien heute, edited by Oliver Flügel, Reinhard Heil, and Andreas Hetzel, 43–61. Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft. Lummerding, Susanne. 2005. Agency@? Cyber-Diskurse, Subjektkonstituierung und Handlungsfähigkeit im Feld des Politischen. Vienna/Cologne/Weimar: Böhlau. 37

https://ran.eu.com/freedom-of-movement-and-protection-for-roma-from-ukraine/, 2023−01−20.

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Mennel, Birgit, and Monika Mokre. 2015. “Zu diesem Buch.” In Das große Gefängnis, edited by Birgit Mennel and Monika Mokre, 11–33. Vienna: Transversal Texts. Mokre, Monika. 2020a: “The Language of the Hegemon: Migration and the Violence of Translation.” In The Dark Side of Translation, edited by Frederico Italiano, 38–56. Abingdon: Routledge. Mokre, Monika. 2020b. “Young Strong Men Should be Fighting”. Zur Vulnerabilität geflüchteter junger Männer.” In Vulnerabilität in Fluchtkontexten, edited by Josef Kohlbacher and Maria Six-Hohenbalken, 17–32. Wien: Verlag der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften. Mokre, Monika. 2022. “When is a crisis a crisis, when is a refugee worthy of protection?” disarm*. Transversal web journal 04. https://transversal.at/tran sversal/0422/mokre/en, [accessed 20.01.2023]. Müller, Stephan 2023: Roma and the war against Ukraine, In In/Visibility of Flight, edited by Monika Mokre and Maria Six-Hohenbalken. Bielefeld: transcript. Musafir, Said. 2015: „Was kannst du schon tun, um Geld zu verdienen?“ In Das große Gefängnis, edited by Birgit Mennel and Monika Mokre 133–144. Vienna: Transversal Texts. S., Símon and Simo Kader. 2015. „Wir nennen das Gefängnis Schule“, In Das große Gefängnis, edited by Birgit Mennel and Monika Mokre, 97–112. Vienna: Transversal Texts. Sayad, Abdelmalek. 2015. „Immigration und ,Staatsdenken‘.“ In: Das große Gefängnis, edited by Birgit Mennel and Monika Mokre, 35–64. Vienna: Transversal Texts. Spivak, Gayatri C. 1993.“Can the Subaltern Speak.”In Colonial Discourse and PostColonial Theory. A Reader, edited by Patrick Williams and Laura Chrisman, 66–111. New York: Columbia University Press. Spivak, Gayatri C. 2010. „Translating in a world of languages.” Profession 2010, no. 1, 35–43.

Marginalized or essential (workers)? The pandemic effects on humanitarian migrants Judith Kohlenberger

Introduction Not many occasions in history caused calls for solidarity and empathy as fervently as the beginning of the COVID-19 pandemic in March 2020. In Austria, almost daily press conferences, live broadcasts from the Federal Chancellery, televised speeches and pleas for unity were issued: “We need to stick together now!”, “We can do this—together!”, “No one is left behind!” Soon after the onset of the pandemic, however, it became apparent that the continually declared emphasis on a national moment of coming together would not (only) lead to unity, but could also cause division. Indeed, pleas for solidarity, which might have seemed all-encompassing at first, typically only referred to a very specific demography, at the expense of others: in their speeches, the green-conservative coalition government mainly addressed the (perceived) majority population, thereby omitting, whether consciously or unconsciously, the 1.4 million foreign citizens living in Austria. Lockdown measures thus imposed also focused on a narrowly defined subgroup of citizens, demonstrated by how these were communicated in a (widely circulated) information campaign. It featured the typical nuclear middle-class family—mother, father, two kids maximum—in a living room held in gentle hues of white and beige. The teenage daughter perched in front of her laptop, the little son dutifully helping mom with the baking, and dad reading a good book. This kind of national and, at the same time, personal “We”, as portrayed here, was domestic, conservative in its values, white, clean and tidy, put together in every sense of the word. It is probably not a coincidence that people living on their own, in patchwork families, in ways that mirrored non-tradi-

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tional views of family or alternative ways of life, or in precarious or simply less comfortable living situations such as crowded apartments, homeless shelters or refugee housing happened to be missing from this picture altogether. Therefore, while the crisis encouraged a rather narrow view of society, it simultaneously exposed how certain people had been systematically excluded from the common “We” long before COVID-19: refugees and asylum seekers, foreign citizens, undocumented migrants, persons of color—all of whom tend to be excluded from the (upper) middle-class in Austria. Indeed, 47% of foreign nationals and 43% of persons descending from migrants (referred to as “persons with a migration background” in Austria) are blue-collar workers, about twice the number of those without a migration background (Statistics Austria 2014b). A person’s place of origin and their socioeconomic status are thus narrowly linked. Working in lowly qualified yet systemically relevant jobs, migrants and refugees had been disproportionally affected by the Coronavirus crisis, while also facing continued discrimination and, in many cases, exclusion from medical treatment due to their residence status. The important and heroic activities of people doing these jobs, for instance as nurses or supermarket cashiers, were frequently discussed, without, however, mentioning that mainly migrants and refugees have been doing them. This chapter explores how these groups in Austria, which have traditionally been living in precarious conditions at the very margins of society, were affected by the Coronavirus pandemic, based on theoretical considerations as well as empirical evidence. Focus is given to questions of outreach and communication strategies, as well as to the exploration of socioeconomic, psychosocial and legal repercussions for people who had already been marginalized by society long before the start of the pandemic.1

Mobility as a privilege Privileges inherent in mobility became starkly apparent during the pandemic. As a matter of fact, COVID-19 showed that a staggeringly high number of basic human rights—including the right to work, the right to education, and the right to family life—are contingent upon the right to mobility. According to

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A preliminary German version of this article appeared in Jahrbuch für Asyl- und Fremdenrecht (2021), edited by Christian Filzwieser and Lioba Kasper, Wien: NWV.

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Franck Düvell, restricting everyday life and thus disrupting work as well as social and personal routines “demonstrates how crucial the right to mobility is because most other rights [...] can only be realised if there is a right to mobility” (2020 n.p.). At the same time, however, the crisis also illustrated that mobility itself is a rather fragile concept. Countries have the power to de facto end both international and domestic migration at a whim. After the declaration of a quick, global “state of emergency,” as Giorgio Agamben would have it, the hitherto universally lauded pillars of freedom of the Western world, from the Schengen Agreement to bilateral visa regulations, suddenly seemed anachronistic. Almost all countries in the world registered a historic decline in migration due to the pandemic. According to the OECD, the number of visas and residence permits issued worldwide dropped by more than 70% in the second quarter of 2020. Taking only European OECD countries into account, the numbers were only marginally better at 59% (OECD 2020). This development led to serious consequences, both for the host countries and their labor markets, especially at a time of tentative economic growth, and for the respective countries of origin. In the long term, migration pressure is projected to intensify again in newly industrialized countries and the Global South, leading to an evergrowing gap between abstract aspirations of migration on the one hand and the opportunities and resources needed to put them into practice on the other (Carling and Schewel 2018; de Haas 2021). At the same time, however, not all forms of mobility were restricted in the same way due to the pandemic, as numerous countries made exceptions for immigration under specific circumstances. These included family migration, international student mobility and people entering the country for essential or frontline jobs (referred to as “systemically relevant jobs” in Austria), especially in the care sector and agriculture (OECD 2020). While the definition of an “essential worker” varies from country to country, they all have in common that their arrival was encouraged rather than restricted, as demonstrated in the case of farm laborers, seasonal workforce and 24-hour care personnel. Many European countries relaxed their COVID-19 immigration policies for essential workers from abroad; some even organized chartered flights for specific professions especially high in demand. When the (economic) need arises, the productivity and labor value of certain (groups of) migrants easily trumps potential concerns of safety and hygiene. In Germany, special chartered flights for care workers caused intense criticism, when Romanian workers were made to wait at airports for hours, with-

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out space for social distancing or sanitation facilities. Once they had arrived in Germany, they went through a mandatory quarantine (usually unpaid) in order to protect the local population. Similarly, Austria organized the transport of Eastern European 24-hour care givers, whose quarantine in Austrian hotels remained unpaid (Leichsenring, Staflinger, and Bauer 2020). Similarly, media coverage seemed selectively focused on special trains and flights, but notably omitted how workers got to train stations and airports during lockdowns, or what happened to them after their arrival in the destination country. In times of crisis, as it became apparent, some people had to be “mobilized” at high personal and public costs, so others could stay at home in relative comfort and safety. This asymmetrical regime for the sake of public health (Thym 2020) intensified pre-existing inequalities. While those forms of mobility which had always been highly restricted (first and foremost refugee migration) were even more regulated and highly sanctioned, other forms were expanded, as in the case of “essential workers” who had to keep the infrastructure and food supply up and running. COVID-19 exposed mobility even more clearly as a privilege enjoyed by global elites, and by those workers upon which these elites depend. Such a regime of mobility and immobility, which runs along socioeconomic fault lines (Dobusch and Kreissl 2020), intensified pre-existing inequalities related to one’s place of origin, nationality, class, or gender. Specifically, national governments created “COVID-19-compatible sociospatial relations” (Dobusch and Kreissl 2020, 711), which were communicated to the public as essential elements in the fight against the pandemic, but which also caused different groups of the population to be affected very differently by containment measures. Even long before the current crisis in public health, mobility has always been closely intertwined with a person’s socioeconomic background and the personal and infrastructural resources afforded to them. Notably, these factors are in a reciprocal relationship: someone’s social status influences their mobility options, which, in turn, have an effect on their social status (Cresswell 2010; Sheller 2016). During the Coronavirus crisis, this bidirectional link became even more apparent. Some people had to become mobile in order for others to stay home. In this sense, the asymmetrical mobility regime, taken to its extreme during a global pandemic, can become an arbiter of life and death. For the most vulnerable groups of migrants, namely refugees and asylum seekers, the effects of the Coronavirus crisis have been nothing short of devastating. Globally speaking, a de facto suspension of the right to asylum could

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be witnessed in the first months of 2020—the culmination of a trend already noticeable before the onset of COVID-19 in the shape of increasing attempts to prevent asylum seekers from applying for international protection, or at rendering it impossible altogether. According to Daniel Ghezelsbash and Nikolas Tan (2020), restrictions applied under the guise of protective and hygienic measures constituted “an exacerbation of underlying tendencies towards the extinguishment of the right to seek asylum in the global North” (1). In addition to the closure of external borders and the de facto suspension of free movement of persons within the Schengen Area, the EU also effected a preliminary stop of asylum procedures as well as restrictions in the Mediterranean. This caused a massive decrease in the number of asylum applications to Europe, plummeting from 61,421 applications to the EU in February 2020 to 8,730 in April of the same year (EASO 2021). From June 2020 onwards, however, the numbers began to climb again. With regards to escalations at the Greek-Turkish border, which started not long before the pandemic erupted, these brief suspensions proved to be shortsighted, as they were eventually responsible for several riots and devastating fires at Greek arrival centers. As refugees entering the country by crossing the land border from Turkey were denied access to asylum procedures, NGOs and humanitarian organizations accused Greece of violating the non-refoulement principle and the EU-Turkey statement. In the United States and Australia, the effects of COVID-19 on humanitarian migrants were even more severely felt than in Europe, as asylum seekers arriving via land or sea route were simply rejected. At the same time, the suspension of almost all global resettlement programs lead to a mere 10,000 refugees being resettled to a safe country in the first half of 2020 (UNHCR 2020). Even long after the current crisis, the suspensions and restrictions of the (territorial) right to asylum justified by COVID-19 safety measures will need to be thoroughly examined, especially as far as their transformation of a temporary into a permanent state is concerned. Historically speaking, the Coronavirus pandemic seems like just another global crisis that caused borders to be newly demarcated or closed in ways that will (in many cases) endure. Since 9/11, extensive travel and safety measures have been considered normal procedure. In a similar vein, increasing numbers of refugee arrivals in 2015 led to the re-establishment of border controls within the Schengen Area, some of which are still enforced today. Almost all “states of emergency” in the last decades rapidly led to restrictions on human mobility (though not that of goods or capital), many of which have not been lifted to this day. Indeed, restricting mobility seems like a national gut reaction in times

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of crisis, considering how frequently it is employed (Düvell 2020). According to Daniel Thym, the prominence of borders and border closures in the fight against the Coronavirus must not be considered accidental. Borders perform a crucial function, both in a discursive and in a symbolic sense (Brown 2017), as they “convey a message of political power and [...] bolster a national sense of belonging” (Thym 2020, n.p.). In times of crisis, citizens fearing for security will seek help from their authorities—the well-known “rally around the flag” effect—which rely on borders to reinforce their political power and close ranks even more. Drawing up a border, whether as an actual act or a symbolic gesture, suggests a sense of security, which is strengthened by an emphasis on the self and its separation from the world outside. On a discursive level, this conflict is demonstrated by the rhetoric of “Us” vs. “Them”, the latter encompassing all perceived outsiders, such as legal migrants, refugees, undocumented persons, or other marginalized groups. From a cultural theory point of view, this practice of establishing a discursive distinction from a subaltern “Other”, regarded as entirely different from the Self, and hence devaluing it, must be classified as othering. Originally coined in a postcolonial context, othering refers to the dynamics of objectification and dehumanization of those constructed as inferior (Said [1978] 2003; Spivak 1988), historically based on skin color, clothing, mannerisms and “etiquette” (civilized vs. “savage”), place of origin, language, or various character traits. While such distinctions are both arbitrary and entirely untrue, they were constructed as self-evident and “essential” in order to reflect that the colonizer’s rule over his colonized subjects was both “natural” and legitimate; that the (white) man had every right to dominate the (Black) woman due to his biological, mental and intellectual strength; that Europeans were superior to Africans because of their accomplishments in civilization and culture (Fanon [1952] 2013). While biological arguments were slowly but surely eradicated by the knowledge of modern medicine, othering nowadays takes a distinctly “cultural” basis and becomes visible in the continuous act of demarcating borders, with the goal of drawing emphasis towards the self, its status and superiority, while specific (groups of) people are classified as strange, “foreign”, or even abnormal, in order to “prove” their inferiority and justify their unequal treatment in reality and in front of the law. Following Simone de Beauvoir, the other is thus not born, but made. On a political level, the ramifications of othering are manifold, specifically as the “Other” is perceived as a threat to the “Self”, whose status, in turn, is elevated and whose dominance strengthened (Kohlenberger 2021).

Judith Kohlenberger: Marginalized or essential (workers)?

The effects of COVID-19 on refugees in Austria During the Coronavirus pandemic, these dynamics of othering also manifested on the level of communication. Containment measures seem to have been written and communicated with only a very small (privileged) part of the population in mind, while marginalized populations in homeless shelters, refugee housing or arrival centers remained largely invisible. Their ability of adhering to measures designed for spacious living arrangements were (willfully or accidentally) neglected. Even in industrialized host countries assumed to be safe, the pandemic had drastic consequences for marginalized populations like refugees and often became a question of survival. Studies have long shown that marginalized groups such as lower-skilled labor migrants and persons granted humanitarian protection are disproportionally affected by health crises such as global pandemics. Refugees and marginalized migrants tend to be in poorer health compared to the resident population, both physically and mentally, which also affects their social network in the host country and their socioeconomic circumstances; vice versa, these aspects additionally affect their health (Wimmer-Puchinger, Engleder, and Wolf 2006). Research suggests that the life satisfaction index of female migrants is lower than of native women (Weiss 2003), while elderly migrants display lower well-being with regard to their health compared to their native-born counterparts (Özlü-Erkilic et al. 2015). Considering additional risk factors, such as the experience of war and displacement as well as the higher risk for poverty and social marginalization, refugees are subjected to even more health risks. Not only does their health consistently rank lower when compared to the native population, but also when compared to the regular migrant population of a host country. Thus, the health of refugees tends to be even more precarious than the situation of regular migrants: their life satisfaction is lower, as is their general well-being in older age. The so-called healthy immigrant effect (Domnich et al. 2012; Marmot, Adelstein, and Bulusu 1984), which postulates that immediately before and after arrival, regular migrants are healthier than the general population of both their country of origin and destination, does not seem to be applicable to refugees (Kohls 2011). During the Coronavirus pandemic, previously existing inequalities in terms of physical and mental health, access to health care, and communication for marginalized groups, became much worse and quickly gained increasing academic attention on an international level. In the United States, studies showed that people of color were twice as often affected by a Coro-

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navirus infection as white people (Ford, Reber, and Reeves 2020; Razai et al. 2021). In Europe, recent OECD data suggests similarly rising infection rates for migrants: in member states like Portugal, Denmark, Norway, and Sweden, the risk for persons born abroad to contract SARS-CoV-2 was shown to be almost twice as high as for persons born in the country. Similarly, mortality rates seem to be higher for migrants than natives, partly due to higher rates of pre-existing conditions that can exacerbate a COVID-19 infection (OECD 2020). On the one hand, this can be explained by socioeconomic conditions: migrants and ethnic minorities are more likely to work in low-skilled frontline jobs, for instance as delivery workers, in the health care system, or in supermarkets. In Austria, roughly one out of three workers in non-academic health care (i.e., nurses) have a migration background (Statistics Austria 2020). While the percentage of foreign nationals living in Austria ranks at only about 17% altogether, at the start of the Corona crisis 33% of employees in food production, 30% in construction, and 22% in retail held foreign citizenship (BMA 2020).2 Due to the essential nature of their jobs, migrants in almost all OECD countries have less opportunity to work from home than the native population, which can drastically increase their exposure to the virus. For instance, while almost 35% of workers born in Germany were able to work from home during the pandemic, only 20% of foreign-born workers were able to do so (OECD 2020). Cramped living quarters, a tendency to live in urban centers, and having to rely on public transportation further increase the infection risks of migrants. However, personal health behavior and socioeconomic circumstances only explain part of the higher infection and mortality rates of migrants and refugees. Equally important seem to be structural discrimination and racism in both the healthcare system and society at large, which became perceptible in a general lack of targeted, accessible COVID-19 communication. While both Austria and Germany can be considered typical migration societies, with a labor market that heavily depends on foreign workers (see, e.g., Fuchs, Kubis, and Schneider 2015; Hofer and Weyerstraß 2016), translations of the central

2

In Austria, 18% of the population hold foreign citizenship, while roughly one quarter of the population qualify as “persons with a migration background” (Statistics Austria 2022), which includes both migrants and descendant of migrants (i.e. whose parents were born abroad). Persons of the second group can either hold foreign or Austrian citizenship.

Judith Kohlenberger: Marginalized or essential (workers)?

hygiene and safety measures to contain the pandemic were often flawed and available only with delay. Given the high ratio of foreign-born populations, this seems both counterintuitive and inefficient. Furthermore, the lack of efficient COVID-19 communication allowed for the scapegoating of (Muslim) migrants and refugees for spreading the virus when visiting extended family in their countries of origin or celebrating large religious festivals (see, e.g., Prugger 2020; Crossland 2020), whereas Austrian tourism was encouraged in some of those very countries. According to a European Commission report (EC 2021b), there has been an increase in discrimination and scapegoating sparked by the pandemic, which further endangers the integration of newly arrived migrants as well as social cohesion. Migrant communities did not feel as adequately addressed and included in national pandemic measures as the native population, and were further alienated by negative media coverage. This is corroborated at the global level: an online WHO survey conducted among 30,000 migrants and refugees from 159 countries found that respondents experienced more discrimination and rejection, regardless of their residence or employment status (WHO 2020). Although specific data for the subcategory of refugees does not exist, their general experience, treatment by the media and specific requirements for (mental) healthcare (Kohlenberger et al. 2019) suggest that they were severely affected by the social ramifications of the pandemic. As concerns physical health, the lack of adequate hygiene and safety measures in refugee accommodations posed additional risks on an already vulnerable population. Especially during the first wave of the pandemic, which hit Europe largely unprepared in March 2020, the needs of humanitarian migrants were hardly considered, which culminated in the unregulated spreading of the virus in immigration centers, causing even more resentment from the local population. In Germany, for example, a much-mediatized outbreak occurred at the beginning of the pandemic in a refugee shelter with more than 500 inhabitants. As the shelter was placed under quarantine, several asylum seekers were allegedly violating quarantine regulations, which led to heightened police presence to detain them. After the event, media reports speculated that residents were not sufficiently informed about the outbreak or the necessary precautions (Riese 2020). At the same time, several other accommodations experienced similar Coronavirus clusters but reported high levels of cooperation from residents. Nevertheless, the incidence of infection in shared refugee accommodations was one of the highest in Germany, averaging about 21 infected persons per outbreak, well ahead of nursing homes and homes for the elderly (Biddle

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et al. 2021). Despite containment and quarantine measures, more than half of all residents were found to be infected with COVID-19 in some facilities. Due to shared dormitories, sanitary facilities, and cooking facilities in these densely inhabited shelters, the general recommendations on hygiene and physical distancing were difficult or seemingly impossible to implement. Safety concepts adapted to these shared accommodations hardly existed, and there were only a few cases where inhabitants were relocated in order to make living situations less dense. These incidents in emergency shelters highlight that information and protection strategies for reaching refugees in shared accommodation were highly heterogeneous, seldom coordinated, and hardly adapted to circumstances beyond traditional concepts of living (Kohlenberger and Gruber 2022). In the German example from above, shelter authorities proceeded with taking on essential tasks ad hoc, drafting security concepts and designing information campaigns without sufficient specialization or practical support from local, regional, or national authorities. In addition to the lack of space for isolation, the actual purpose of classic refugee shelters presented a major difficulty. Considering that most of these shelters had already been geographically and socially segregated from the surrounding population long before the onset of social distancing regulations, research shows that the typically constant monitoring leads to a decrease of solidarity with the host population, indirectly affecting the inhabitants’ willingness to participate in social distancing and maintain quarantine regulations (Biddle et al. 2021). While the native population’s distance to asylum shelters is traditionally considered in determining the location of such centers (keeping “them” at bay from “us”, a vital strategy for othering), the possibility of social distancing for residents within these centers took a less urgent note during the pandemic. Indeed, cramped living conditions increase social tension and domestic violence during quarantine—a factor especially relevant in mixed-gender accommodation. A key lesson in COVID-19 health communication arose from Coronavirus clusters in refugee shelters: “it is not sufficient to hang posters and forward information” (Razum et al. 2020, 395). Rather, hygiene measures must be demonstrated and adapted to the circumstances, which differ substantially from those of private households in almost all aspects. Additionally, the various needs and resources refugees must be adequately addressed. If you wish to reach residents with minimal reading and writing skills, coming countries ruled by regimes that disparage education, in particular for women (such as Afghanistan), information is best spread orally, or communicated via pic-

Judith Kohlenberger: Marginalized or essential (workers)?

tograms or videos (Biddle et al. 2021). In order to access films and other virtual content, adequate Wi-Fi access must be provided in emergency shelters, which is usually not the case. Similarly, no attempt was made to reduce densely populated refugee shelters in size by spreading inhabitants out to nearby hotels, hostels or other accommodations that remained empty due to lockdowns. This happened, if at all, only after people had tested positive, for which some cities established special “quarantine hotels”. All these aspects highlight the need for health communication to be targetgroup-specific and culturally sensitive, rather than having only one (narrowly defined) population in mind. Marginalized groups are particularly excluded in this context, as they often are when it comes to society’s concerns in general. The fact that asylum seekers tend to be more vulnerable both physically and mentally was addressed only partially, belatedly, and inadequately in the Coronavirus pandemic. Plans to prioritize residents of shared refugee accommodations in Austria’s national vaccination plan, a decision partly motivated by concerns for the general population’s health, were abandoned after vehement public debate. In addition to their higher exposure and lack of protection against the virus, refugees and minorities were also disproportionally affected by the health crisis in terms of their economic and social circumstances. In early 2020, a study conducted by the Center for Global Development and Refugees International (CGdev) found that refugees had a 60% higher chance of being employed in industries highly affected by pandemic containment measures, such as business closures, than natives (Dempster et al. 2020). In Austria and many other Western European countries, this mostly concerns the food and hospitality industries (Ortlieb and Weiss 2020). The general participation rate of foreign citizens in the labor force was about two times lower compared those born in Austria (EC 2021a). Individuals born abroad but employed in Austria experienced a decline almost three times higher than those born in the country (OECD 2020). This can be attributed to industry-specific unemployment rates as well as the “last in, first out” principle, which states that a company’s most recent employees (which refugees often are) are the first to be made redundant in a recession. Additionally, however, the rise of discrimination against foreign workers in times of economic hardship seems an equally important factor in this context (OECD 2020). Social distancing measures and the resulting lack of contact to others also heavily affected refugees and marginalized groups, given that their social circles tend to be comparatively small at the beginning of their life in the host

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country. Their social capital both within their own community (referred to as “bonding social capital”) and the majority population (“bridging social capital”, Putnam 2001) constitutes a key factor in the search for employment and social participation. Professional networks are difficult to maintain and almost impossible to establish during a pandemic—apart from migrants, this also affected new job seekers as well as young people. As most refugees arriving in or around 2015 entered Austria either alone or with only their closest family and without strong social bonds to their host country, it became almost impossible to rely on social or family networks when faced with pandemic stressors such as home schooling or childcare. Indeed, asylum seekers reported even higher difficulties in engaging with the resident population than before the onset of the pandemic (Kohlenberger et al. 2021). This was caused by social isolation due to COVID-19, but reports also show an increase in (strong) hostility, culminating in openly voiced resentment, towards ethnic minorities (SOS Mitmensch 2021). Incidents of racial profiling by police similarly increased (Amnesty International 2020), such as fines issued for violating COVID-19 measures or random checks of residence permits.

Conclusion Considering societal circumstances as well as health-related, social and professional risk factors, refugees emerged as a population highly affected by COVID-19, yet often only inadequately supported by public structures. Social connections from before the pandemic are at risk of becoming increasingly unstable again, which may result in the intensification of mental problems and, especially among refugees affected by war, re-traumatization. Informal conversations with asylum seekers confirmed that for many of them, everyday life was heavily restricted by the diffuse threat of the pandemic, in some cases highly so. Individual refugee families reported that, due to the fear of infection, they remained inside their apartments for weeks during the first lockdown; a situation almost unbearable for a large family living in tight quarters. This was further exacerbated by intermittent and belated public communication efforts in their first language. Understanding in/visibility in times of a pandemic as a political strategy, it becomes starkly apparent on which end of the spectrum refugees fell. Even more than in pre-pandemic times, their particular challenges and plights, but also the resources they bring

Judith Kohlenberger: Marginalized or essential (workers)?

to host countries remained largely invisible yet key to the society they helped to uphold during the crisis. The extent to which “making them visible” can, conversely, help to mobilize support and critical discourse (Friese 2019) becomes apparent when, by way of conclusion to this chapter, we survey COVID-19 support structures for refugees, many of which emerged out of the last alleged “crisis” Austria witnessed in 2015 and were (re-)activated in 2020. Back then, the events of fall 2015 caused civil society to rise up and bridge vital gaps in social service provision and health communication, both in an immediate response and by building sustainable structures. For instance, the Viennese civil organization AFYA (“health and well-being” in Arabic) coordinated online meetings via WhatsApp instead of attempting to make their clients install an unfamiliar program for digital communication. Since most were already familiar with the app, this strategy proved to be an easy and effective way to stay in contact with refugees, especially with women. Moreover, the importance of culturally sensitive health care became apparent: during Ramadan, online meetings were scheduled late at night. Interestingly, participation in virtual meetings proved comparatively high, as they were less time-consuming than in-person appointments (Khattab 2020). The World Health Organization commended the valuable contributions of civil actors working in refugee relief, both in the fight against the pandemic and the outreach to marginalized groups. As its report states, “nongovernmental and civil society organizations (NGOs), and other supporting organizations do play a key role regarding dissemination of accessible information on COVID-19 to refugees and migrants” (WHO 2020, viii). Especially during times of crisis, small-scale bottom-up initiatives can rely on pre-established and well-trusted communication channels to stay in touch with their clients. Thus, it is vital to incorporate civil-society organizations and NGOs into the public effort of containing the pandemic, in order to counteract the various forms of inequality that refugees have been confronted with since its outbreak.

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Biddle, Louise, Rose Jahn, Clara Perplies, Andreas W. Gold, Eilin Rast, Anke Spura, and Kayvan Bozorgmehr. 2021. “COVID-19 in Sammelunterkünften für Geflüchtete: Analyse von Pandemiemaßnahmen und prioritäre Bedarfe aus behördlicher Sicht.” Bundesgesundheitsblatt—Gesundheitsforschung—Gesundheitsschutz 64, no. 3: 342–352. BMA (Austrian Federal Ministry of Labour). 2020. BALI. Beschäftigung-Arbeitsmarkt-Leistungsbezieherinnen-Informationen. https://www.dnet.at/elis/Date nbank/DB_Be.aspx. Brown, Wendy. 2017. Walled States, Waning Sovereignty. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Carling, Jørgen, and Kerilyn Schewel. 2018. “Revisiting aspiration and ability in international migration.” Journal of Ethnic and Migration Studies 44, no. 6: 945–963. https://doi.org/10.1080/1369183X.2017.1384146. Cresswell, Tim. 2010. “Towards a politics of mobility.” Environment and Planning D: Society and Space 28, no.1: 17–31. https://doi. org/10.1068/d11407. Crossland, David. 2020. “Coronavirus: Illegal wedding blamed for lockdown in German city of Hamm.” The Times, September 26, 2020. https://www.th etimes.co.uk/article/coronavirus-illegal-wedding-blamed-for-lockdownin-german-city-of-hamm-8t3wccl2s. Accessed 17 January 2023. De Haas, Hein. 2021. “A theory of migration: the aspirations-capabilities framework.” Comparative Migration Studies 9, no. 8: 1–35. https://doi.org/1 0.1186/s40878-020-00210-4. Dempster, Helen, Thomas Ginn, Jimmy Graham, Martha Guerrero Ble, Daphne Jayasinghe, and Barri Shorey. 2020. “Locked Down and Left Behind: The Impact of COVID-19 on Refugees’ Economic Inclusion (Policy Paper 179).” July 8, 2020. Washington, DC: Center for Global Development and Refugees International. https://www.cgdev.org/publication/locked-d own-and-left-behind-impact-covid-19-refugees-economic-inclusion. Accessed 17 January 2023. Dobusch, Laura, and Katharina Kreissl. 2020. “Privilege and burden of im-/mobility governance: On the reinforcement of inequalities during a pandemic lockdown.” Gender, Work & Organization 27, no. 5: 709–716. http s://doi.org/10.1111/gwao.12462. Domnich, Alexander, Donatella Panatoo, Robert Gasparini, and Daniela Amicizia. 2012. “The ‘healthy immigrant’ effect: Does it exist in Europe today?” Italian Journal of Public Health 9, no. 3: 1–7. Düvell, Franck. 2020. “How and why the mobility of a virus has led to abolishing key civil liberties.” April 15, 2020. https://www.compas.ox.ac.uk/2020

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Ortlieb, Renate, and Silvana Weiss. 2020. “Job quality of refugees in Austria: Trade-offs between multiple workplace characteristics.” German Journal of Human Resource Management 34, no. 4: 418–442. https://doi.org/10.1177/239 7002220914224. Özlü-Erkilic, Zeliha, Dietmar Winkler, Christian Popow, Heidi E. Zesch, and Türkan Akkaya-Kalayci. 2015. “A comparative study of Turkish-speaking migrants and natives living in Vienna/Austria concerning their life satisfaction—with a particular focus on satisfaction regarding their health.” International Journal of Migration, Health and Social Care 11, no. 3: 206–217. Prugger, Daniela. 2020. “Austria: Anger as Kurz blames minorities for spreading COVID-19.” Aljazeera, December 7, 2020. https://www.aljazeera.com/ news/2020/12/7/austria-anger-as-kurz-blames-minorities-for-spreading -covid-19. Accessed 17 January 2023. Putnam, Robert D. 2001. Bowling alone: The collapse and revival of American community. New York: Simon and Schuster. Razai, Mohammad S., Hadyn K. N. Kankam, Azeem Majeed, Aneez Esmail, and David R. Williams. 2021. “Mitigating Ethnic Disparities in Covid-19 and Beyond.” BMJ 372:4921. Razum, Oliver, Verena Penning, Amir Mohsenpour, and Kayvan Bozorgmehr. 2020.“Covid-19 in Flüchtlingsunterkünften: ÖGD jetzt weiter stärken.” Das Gesundheitswesen 82, no. 5: 392–396. Riese, Dinah. 2020. “Polizeieinsatz gegen Geflüchtete in Suhl: ‘Absolut chaotische Situation.’” taz, March 18, 2020. https://taz.de/Polizeieinsatz-gegenGefluechtete-in-Suhl/!5668971/. Accessed 17 January 2023. Said, Edward. (1978) 2003. Orientalism. New York: Pantheon Books. Reprint, London: Penguin Books. Sheller, Mimi. 2016. “Uneven mobility futures: A Foucauldian approach.” Mobilities 11, no. 1: 15–31. https://doi.org/10.1080/17450101.2015.1097038. SOS Mitmensch. 2021. “Antimuslimischer Rassismus in der österreichischen Politik. Antimuslimische Abwertungs-, Ausgrenzungs-, Feindbild-, Generalisierungs- und Hetzkampagnen im Jahr 2020.” March 2021. https://ww w.sosmitmensch.at/dl/qrrpJKJkKMmJqx4KJK/Bericht2020_Antimuslim ischerRassismus_SOS_Mitmensch_Maerz2021.pdf. Accessed 17 January 2023. Spivak, Gayatri Chakravorty. 1988. “Can the Subaltern Speak?” In Marxism and the Interpretation of Culture, edited by Cary Nelson and Lawrence Grossberg, 271–313. Urbana: University of Illinois Press.

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Below the radar—the invisibility of agency among diaspora and refugee networks during the COVID-19 pandemic Maria Six-Hohenbalken and Josef Kohlbacher

Introduction The following chapter discusses the meanings of various communities and networks—diasporic, ethno-national, religious, linguistic and bottom-up initiatives—supporting refugees during the COVID Pandemic. The time frame in this context is the first lockdown in the pandemic; the empirical material is based on a participatory community and mixed-methods study in Vienna (2020). The expression “below the radar” has various meanings. First of all, it is a term used by researchers to describe […] small voluntary organizations, community groups and more informal or semi-formal activities in the Third Sector. […] from the engagement of Black and Minority Ethnic community organizations in community cohesion agendas and combating extremism, through to the commissioning of public services at the local level, supporting grassroots community economic development in excluded neighbourhoods, as well as the involvement of community based organizations in modernising local government, community safety and health planning and policy (Phillimore et al. 2010, 4). The field was and still is seen as a terra incognita, and thus the term and approach was discussed in the last two decades.1 1

“There are a number of ways of conceptualising the term “under the radar”. The term most commonly refers to activities or groups that do not have a recognised legal status

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Furthermore, the term also indicates hardly visible forms of agency developed by various diasporic groups, networks and community organizations to support newly arrived refugees. This commitment is based on voluntary work; although it can be viewed as civil society engagement in many areas, it is barely acknowledged as such and invisible to the general public. The expression “below the radar” also refers to policies during the first pandemic lock-down in Austria, in which vulnerable groups and specifically refugees gained little attention when setting up measures to get the pandemic under control. In the following section, we will offer insight into our research which critically scrutinizes the social, psychological, financial, legal and linguistic support as well as communication and information channels established during the first lockdown in the COVID pandemic. Against this backdrop, we will point out organizations with elaborate structures, offices and meeting rooms as well as associations without such infrastructure but with a circle of activists or active members who are in constant contact with and have experience in community and integration work as well as virtual networks. After elaborating on the various services and the structural and functional issues of networks and communities, we will discuss why diasporic engagement, grassroots networks and ad-hoc initiatives are hardly perceived as civil society activities and remain invisible from the public. and do not, therefore, appear on the Charity Commission or other regulatory registers or those that are registered but have low incomes or turnover” (MacGillivray 2001 and CEFET 2007 in McCabe, Phillimore, and Mayblin 2010, 2). In the last decade, interest in these organizations increased, focusing e.g. on questions of community cohesion agendas, combating extremism, modernizing local governance or community safety and health issues. As Toepler argues, the networks and organizations entitled “below or under the radar” are perhaps one of the few remaining big mysteries in non-profit sector research (Toepler 2003, 236 in McCabe, Phillimore, and Mayblin 2010, 3). The term was used for “unregulated”, “semi-formal” associations and activities, stressing the necessity for a broader discussion or alternative approaches in order to encompass the wider range of activities and networks that do “not fall neatly” into the “classic” classifications of the voluntary sector. […] “NGOs are usually understood in terms of organisational and management theory (Handy 1997) which could be problematic when trying to consider the role and function of very small informal groupings which have been described as BTR [Below the Radar] and have not yet been systematically researched or analysed within organisational theory frameworks (Handy 1993)” (McCabe, Phillimore, and Mayblin 2010, 6). For further discussion, see e.g. Coffé and Geys 2007a, b and Phillimore et al. 2010.

Maria Six-Hohenbalken and Josef Kohlbacher: Agency during the pandemic

We use the terms “networks” and “organizations”2 side by side but not interchangeably. Furthermore, the usage of the term “community” is not intended in an essentializing or homogenizing way; we do not assume strictly defined ethnic or political communities but use the term rather in the plural. People are involved in more than one community or network, and the assumption of one definite Afghan, Syrian, Kurdish or Iraqi community, for example, in Austria would be misleading. The communities and the affiliations are highly fluid and in constant transformation. Critical diaspora research has already shown the dynamics in diasporic and transnational communities, on which we will build up. Scientific approaches in migration and integration research on the formation of social capital distinguish between “bonding” and “bridging” social capital (cf. Putnam 2000). Related to the associations of concern in the empirical study—“bonding associations” are seen as closed networks that primarily include people of the same background. “Bridging associations” are overlapping networks that include people of different, heterogeneous backgrounds from cross-sections of society (see Coffe and Geys 2007 in Žarković 2015: 17). Thus, established NGOs (like Caritas, Red Cross, etc.) can be seen as bridging institutions, while (community based or beyond) grassroots organizations or associations can be encompassed as bonding institutions.

Empirical study In April 2020, the Vienna Science and Technology Fund3 made an urgent call to set up accompanying research during the pandemic in a wide range of social fields. The Austrian Academy of Sciences4 organized a collaborative project

2

3 4

As already stated above, the individual initiatives are based on different structural foundations. To refer more to the ad-hoc and grassroots initiatives, the term “networks” seems more appropriate; if the initiatives are more structured, long-lived and already have the character of associations, or are registered NGOs, we use the term “organization”. WWTF (Wiener Wissenschafts-, Forschungs- und Technologiefonds). This COVID-19 Rapid Response 2020 project is a cooperation between the Institute for Urban and Regional Research and the Institute for Social Anthropology. Both institutions contribute contacts to migrants/ organizations as well as long-standing research expertise in the Syrian (ISA) and Afghan (ISR) communities. The overall results of the study were published in Kohlbacher and Six-Hohenbalken 2021. Project Team: Josef

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entitled “COVID-19 in the Context of Flight and Integration—Social Implications of the Pandemic for the Syrian and Afghan Communities and for NGOs involved in Refugee Support in Vienna”. People forced seek refuge experience extraordinary conditions before and during fleeing. Due to the pandemic, they were once again subjected to a state of emergency and ambivalence. “Social distancing” was the main strategy to banish the risk of infection. As persons entitled to asylum or subsidiary protection, they often lived in small apartments and were yet forced to keep others at a distance and reduce contacts. The focus in the study was on people who had already received a status of protection. We asked how people got along when “social distancing” was required, when almost all relief organizations, educational institutions, medical units, and NGOs were in lockdown, and when any social networking with friends, within their groups of origin (e.g., ethnic, social, religious, political, etc.), and with their newly established Austrian contacts (e.g., friends, mentors, German teachers, NGO staff) was impossible. Moreover, we scrutinized the experiences people had with care facilities, medical treatments, or with legal and linguistic challenges. Our study’s focus on people who sought refuge from Syria and Afghanistan was, on the one hand, led by demographic concerns (as people from Syria and Afghanistan are the two numerically largest groups of refugee background in Vienna). On the other hand, there were practical considerations, as the research team already had a pool of contact data from several previous studies and had worked with various associations and organizations.

Research design According to Austrian population statistics, most asylum applications have come from people from Syria and Afghanistan since 2014. It is estimated that more than 45,000 people from Afghanistan and more than 55,000 individuals from Syria live in Austria.5

5

Kohlbacher, Maria Six-Hohenbalken, Sabine Bauer-Amin, Marie Lehner, Gabriele Rasuly-Paleczek. In 2017, about 45,000 individuals with Afghan citizenship and several thousand naturalized Afghans lived in Austria. As of 2016, the numbers of Afghan applications for asylum declined sharply. In 2020, 2,875 people from Afghanistan were granted asylum and 1,198 received subsidiary protection. Two years after the beginning of the war in Syria (2011), almost one million Syrians had to seek refuge. According to the Austrian Federal Ministry of the Interior, “915 persons arrived in Austria in 2012, 1,991 in

Maria Six-Hohenbalken and Josef Kohlbacher: Agency during the pandemic

The project applied a mixed-method approach that builds on each other, ranging from quantitative surveys to qualitative interviews, and including community-based participatory research (CBPR) elements. This research practice combined the access of interviewed experts with relevant results from a bottom-up perspective through the involvement of affected communities (Lewis-Beck, Bryman and Liao 2004). Implementing a community-based participatory research (CBPR) approach was an essential part of the project design, involving Syrian and Afghan associations as key project partners. The basis of the present research was a compiled (partially) standardized questionnaire, which was created by the research team with feedback loops from the communities. It focused on basic socio-demographic data as well as challenges and problems—coping strategies, social contacts, health and compliance to health and infection protection measures, obtaining information on these measures, the related impact on the overall financial, employment and housing situation, the role of communities and support structures of migrant associations and NGOs (translation services, online counseling, dealing with isolation, support with e-schooling) as well as economic and financial problems. In order to obtain the most valid results possible and to avoid survey bias, the online survey was to be conducted in the native language (Arabic, Farsi/ Dari) so that older people and people with a low level of German could also be integrated. The target was a sample of n = 100, i.e. 50 interviews per group of origin. Finally, 132 questionnaires were completed in the online survey. The Syrian community provided 54 and the Afghan community 78 participants. In the beginning the response rate was rather low; the reasons for this delay in the response rate were manifold: the generally sensitive topic of COVID-19, which rather triggered reservation among many refugees, a general uncertainty resulting from often stressful experiences in asylum procedures regarding the handling and goals of surveys as well as the completion of questionnaires, or a lack of routine and experience in filling out questionnaires. Some face-to-face

2013, 7,754 in 2014, 24,538 in 2015 and 8,845 in 2016 [...].” When the war intensified in 2015, the number of asylum applications in Austria increased. With regard to the country of origin of asylum seekers in the last five years, most applications in Austria were filed by Syrians. However, the number of applications decreased drastically in recent years. In 2020, 2,751 people from Syria were granted asylum and 318 received subsidiary protection; in 2019, 2,534 were granted asylum and 295 received subsidiary protection. Source: Asylstatistik 2020 | Migration—Info & Grafik (migration-infografik.at).

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interviews (especially younger age groups and the educated) were conducted in German or, upon explicit request, in English. At the same time, qualitative interviews6 were conducted with refugees as well as experts in caring professions. The interview guideline, created to gather experiences of experts, was modified according to the area of responsibility of the expert. This guideline featured a wide range of issues, including social problems, health challenges, personal and institutional support offers and services of relevant NGOs, sources of information provided, the use of information by refugees, alternative information offers (TV, online media, communities), financial problems, home schooling, switching to online media, problems with procurement and financing, language skills and language barriers.

Community networks In terms of distribution by age and gender, a high proportion of men (70.1%) can be identified among those born in Afghanistan. The age structure of the Afghans is dominated by younger and middle-aged groups. The share of children is rather low at 5.3% up to 6 years. Due to the lack of studies on transnational networks, only rough estimates can be made. Networks are based on regions of origin; certain extended families are maintained in European countries (mainly Germany, the Netherlands, Sweden) and North America. In the last decade, the refugee flows of Afghans to Europe show considerable heterogeneity in terms of ethnic, political, socioeconomic and educational background. The landscape of associations has also diversified and now focuses on the younger generation and the educational sector, among others. In the absence of precise statistics on the ethnic or religious background of refugees, only basic research and commissioned studies can provide an approximate insight. A quantitative survey conducted in 2016 showed that almost all denominations found in Syria were represented among the refugees. Some of these denominations established communities in Austria decades ago, such as the Syrian Orthodox Church, which is now officially recognized in Austria. Syrian-Catholic Christians, Armenians, Assyrians, Kurds and Yezidis have been living in Vienna for several decades, and founded associations, institutions, organizations and networks here. 6

The analyses of the transcribed interviews were based on qualitative analysis methods. The quantitative data was analyzed using SPSS univariate and bivariate, much of which is presented in chart and in tabular form.

Maria Six-Hohenbalken and Josef Kohlbacher: Agency during the pandemic

The Syrians applying for asylum in Austria in recent years have been encountering many different but still demographically smaller political, ethnic, religious and social networks and structures. First and second-generation Syrian refugees were active as academics (including medical doctors), business people, artists or as Austrian politicians. Syrians were and are still part of the Arabic-speaking communities and networks, supported by people from different states of the Middle East, e.g. first and foremost, the Palestinians who already received special support since the 1970’s. These networks have done a great deal to accomplish integration, especially in the early years of flight, starting with assistance when the refugees first arrived, various counseling activities, and integration support in the search for housing and work. Associations and initiatives were founded that, for example, took care of schooling, language or social needs of the newly arrived. Existing diasporic institutions and networks have also changed in recent years and expanded their interested parties/members not only in terms of numbers. From the very beginning, the refugees showed extraordinary agency and willingness to self-organize. Above all, social media played a major role. As the COVID lockdown made any research with long-term, face-to-face qualitative interviews and participant observation impossible, our project started out with an online, partially standardized questionnaire with translations into Arabic and Farsi-Dari. The questionnaire focused on people’s compliance with infection protection measures, the challenges they were facing due to traffic restrictions set by the government, and ultimately also addressed their work and housing situation. Moreover, we investigated the support offered by ethno-national and religious associations, and how people gained information about the pandemic measures by the government. We also asked about socio-psychological topics, thus the feeling of isolation, well-being, changes in social relations, and eventual conflicts in the family or living environment. The study was intended to provide an initial insight into the situation. Due to the small sample of respondents—132 people answered the online questionnaire—the results are not representative. The data collection was based on a mixed-method approach, which included community-based participatory-research (CBPR) elements and led to a multistep analysis. As such, a dozen semi-structured telephone/Skype interviews with experts from NGOs, key stakeholders, and community initiatives were realized. The research team was in close contact with selected institutions who had offered their services to Arabic speakers and Afghan refugees even before the pandemic. The study had a short time frame, planned from May to

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September 2020, and then extended to November 2020, as the response rate of the online survey was initially too low. The survey phase was planned and started in a time when Austria was in the grip of the first lockdown (offices and authorities, several medical facilities, trade and educational institutions as well as NGOs were closed; remote services were developed gradually by some institutions; people were obliged to stay in their district of residence except for emergencies). Later during the survey, the lockdown was lifted. At the outset, we should point out that many of the interviewees arrived in Austria around 2015. After all kinds of legal and administrative challenges in the asylum procedure, several had just managed to brighten their prospects. Many attended further language courses and training, or were in their first jobs. COVID-19 abruptly unraveled chances of success and affected many in their integration efforts. Particularly in challenging times, the creation and guarantee of lasting and realistic prospects is of eminent importance to the individual integration process. These efforts have been severely limited as a result, and plans for the future have been called into question. Especially in the fields of access to information and the accessibility of NGO services who usually offer translation services and counseling on social issues, the interviewees and NGO employees addressed the following challenges: the COVID crisis has changed the NGOs’ support in refugee care in many ways. The most striking change was the shift to online or telephone contact, and several respondents from NGOs said that this had also complicated their support services and access to clients. Not only did they have to reduce their support, some of the previously available services disappeared. Experts of NGOs (mainly NGOs which are fully established and financed by state organizations) described the many changes in the support services, with the most fundamental changes found in the elimination of personal contacts, the complete switch to online services, and thus shifts in the focus of the entire service. While the NGOs and their staff mostly learned to deal with the changed situation after some initial difficulties, only some of the clients of the NGOs really coped well with these changes. There were also massive cuts on the part of the volunteers in these NGOs. They often had to completely suspend their work or switch their services to mobile phones or online contacts. NGOs lost important staff resources, which could by no means be fully compensated for even after the lockdown was lifted. Furthermore, the overload of work for the staff in NGOs and GOs should also be taken into account, as many also took on additional care services.

Maria Six-Hohenbalken and Josef Kohlbacher: Agency during the pandemic

In a comparison of the two destination groups, they experienced the restrictions of NGO and network support in different ways: almost half of the Syrian respondents were affected by the restriction of contacts with NGOs to digital media or telephone. Syrians—much more than Afghan respondents—stated that the support offered by NGOs had become more complicated. Afghan refugees often indicated that support services had been reduced or even disappeared altogether. Slightly more Syrian respondents than Afghans mentioned additional offers from NGOs. Nevertheless, we should keep in mind that there are much more and different Arabic-speaking associations or organizations in Vienna (e.g., organized by people with Palestinian, Egypt, Iraqi, Lebanese descent) than is the case for Afghans. Some associations do not only address one single ethno-national or religious group, but are more broadly based for Arabic speakers. Their networks were, therefore, easier to expand during the pandemic. In the first lockdown in Vienna, as the results of the study show, there was a shift in care and support for refugees away from bridging and towards bonding institutions. The clients could not easily reach the established institutions, as their services were reduced, often only available via telephone and, above all, struggled with lacking language competencies. Then grassroots initiatives quickly established information channels, networked experts, offered various support services online, and mentally supported people to get through these challenging times. The following is an overview of what services were offered and how they were established. In addition, we will briefly discuss the structural and organizational/functional as well as processual dimensions.7 The elaboration on this specific form of the Third Sector, thus the associations and networks “beyond the radar”, was not a primary goal of the study, but the importance of these Third Sector initiatives emerged in the course of the survey through the mixed-methods approach.

7

This approach follows Angus McCabe and Jenny Phillimore (2012:4). They argue that the analysis of the structure encompasses nodes and linkages on a community network level, and “weak ties” as well as bridging and linking social capital. Concerning the functions (personal or organizational benefits), the focus is on information exchange, emotional support, on strategies of sharing or influencing. The analysis of the processual level encompasses social interaction, strategic alliances, access to resources among others.

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Information services There was a considerable lack of information available for refugees without proper language skills in the early phase of the pandemic and specifically during the first lockdown. Impaired access to reliable information, understanding it, and dealing with the content provided were important points frequently raised by both experts and respondents from the two communities. Different initiatives in and outside the communities of concern emerged quickly, which were characterized by various forms of online communication. Of major concern was the translation of media and government measures and advice for everyday challenges, which was distributed via social media (Facebook and WhatsApp groups) but also in form of short videos, homepage entries and discussion forums. One expert explained this challenging situation: It has become apparent that there is a structural problem, because the authorities, the different ones, were not really able to establish reasonable communication. […] The most serious example was that the Austrian Integration Fund sent out misinformation, false information, at Easter (2020), claiming, more or less, that people were not allowed to leave the household, except to go shopping and to work. Which was not true, which led to the fact that those affected, refugees, were then told by some other people that you can indeed go out and go for a walk, do sports, as long as you don’t come too close to anyone. […]. It was then the case that the people who travelled through Vienna using the subway were covered with fines, yes. So that shows how incompetently the central office and the Integration Fund, which has such a central position in the whole government, work […]. It then went so far that Austria’s state television, together with NGOs, took over and simply made a video in Arabic and Farsi/Dari, such a regular video, which was then simply distributed via social media. (E5). In the beginning, official agencies only disseminated partially correct or even false information, which was criticized very emotionally, especially when it came to the living conditions in refugee camps. Our interviewees explained that people staying in the largest refugee camp in Austria (Traiskirchen), for example, were afraid to go outside, as they were concerned to be punished. The inhabitants of this refugee camp were misinformed of which provisions applied. Furthermore, the interviewees mentioned cases of “racial profiling”, where people were controlled in parks and fined, if they had crossed their district of residence in Vienna.

Maria Six-Hohenbalken and Josef Kohlbacher: Agency during the pandemic

These claims initiated a number of initiatives of Arabic, Farsi and Dari speakers as well as respective associations and communities, who focused on the translation of Austria’s media. As a private initiative, an Egyptian citizen translated government information and measures on a daily basis, as did an Arabic-speaking member of the Austrian National Council. These translations were then partly made available as video recordings and resulted in a high level of trust in Austria’s media in the long run. The importance of the respective communities and individuals who translated and spread the information on their own on a daily basis became quite evident in the interviews. Community networks and associations and their activists met the great need for information as quickly as possible by further installing specific hotlines for certain problems (e.g., physical and mental health issues, home schooling). Using social media—WhatsApp, Facebook and Viber groups—information was immediately passed on through different channels. In terms of social media, the respondents from Syria argued that they used social media every day or even several times a day. For this reason, private websites, blogs and social media were more important to some people than the information of Arabic-speaking friends or acquaintances and the Austrian state television.8 People increasingly became aware of the incredibly fast-growing number of individual initiatives that critically posted specific information via social media. With regard to trustworthiness, the Austrian state television (mostly consumed via translations mentioned above), grew in value right after newspapers, satellite channels, and websites of Austrian NGOs. Due to the limited time available for the survey, it was hardly possible to track developments or changes in media use. In the course of the project, it was impossible to get an overview of all the various social media initiatives and sites. A few brief examples will have to suffice to indicate the meaning and scope of these newly emerged and already established networks and associations. When it comes to Arabic speakers, an online group with its more than 56,000 members comprised far more people than Syrians, for whom it had originally been set up. In these groups, information was exchanged, problems and challenges in Austria discussed, and mutual support (e.g., translations, information on contacts for specific needs) offered. The administrators also acted as guides in order to prevent misinforma8

Private websites/blogs (39%), social media (36%), Arabic-speaking friends or acquaintances (30%) and family members abroad (29%) but also the Austrian state television (20%) were mentioned.

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tion, which was often rather time-consuming, especially for volunteers. Established aid associations, such as religion-based organizations, looked after several hundred clients and were able to offer different information channels relatively quickly, especially via social media. These initiatives either originated from the communities themselves or came into being thanks to the support of individual members of respective communities (Palestinian community from Syria, Christians from Syria and Iraq, etc.). In this way, different information channels were quickly and efficiently established. Some of these associations had enough staff to actively contact members by phone and ask them about their circumstances, needs and challenges on a regular basis, while others offered their services on demand. With regard to media use, the question of trust was raised time and again. Despite the acknowledgement of community organizations especially during the pandemic, several respondents had an ambivalent opinion. There is a tendency for people’s trust in community organizations to decrease the higher the level of the respondent’s education. It is quite remarkable that none of the interviewees ascribed full trustworthiness to the associations and organizations of the communities. The length of their stay did not effectively determine the use of certain institutions for support in times of crisis. The counselling and support services of community associations were used by refugees of very different lengths of stay, although to different extents. Individual actors and supportive networks, established during the refugee movement of 2015, were revived once again.9

Consultation services Taking into account health problems in general, and high level of stressors and depression in particular, the survey asked who or which institutions people consulted for help. The respondents most frequently contacted general practitioners or specialists with first-language skills or doctors from the same coun9

Several civil society networks with volunteers of the communities, Austrian society, and people with language skills organized first aid at railway stations and other crucial points. This was an incredible civil commitment that paved the way to the development of various care services, translation services etc. Here, however, people who either themselves or whose parents had sought refuge were in charge. McCabe and Phillimore outlined the meaning of strong networks with key individuals which are able to mobilize others and enable access to human capital (2012, 9).

Maria Six-Hohenbalken and Josef Kohlbacher: Agency during the pandemic

try of origin as the respondents. Somewhat less frequently, they turned to an Austrian general practitioner for help. It is, therefore, worth emphasizing the high degree of trust placed in medical staff with the respective language skills. This does not seem to refer to specialists from their own immediate community of origin, but to people with the respective language skills.10 A comprehensive initiative was launched by a doctor of Palestinian origin in Vienna, who established a “task force”, integrating doctors, social workers, and also politicians. Approximately 200 people regularly exchanged information, organized online training, and advocated mainly but not exclusively for Arabic-speaking patients. Where necessary, the activists supported each other with information material as well as medication, especially with doctor’s samples. The doctor works in a homeless project and, as an occupational health physician, relayed WHO information in English and translated it to Arabic. These translations were mainly related to the rules of conduct (wearing masks, visiting doctors), hygiene rules, how to get prescriptions etc. The information was posted on social media and forwarded by multipliers. As early as by the end of February 2020, the doctor had started already with translation and networking activities. Nevertheless, language barriers in conveying information were not unique to refugees. As this doctor also works as an occupational health physician for an international company, the person explained that even officially established government hotlines in Austria did not have multilingual staff available at the beginning and did not even offer information or advice in English. In this voluntary work, the doctor explained the complex interconnections between problems and challenges, and the necessity for the task force to extend its services: [When] I set up the hotline [for questions about COVID in Arabic], my first call was nothing medical, but a father who had three daughters [in home schooling]. And I think he couldn’t read or write himself and he said, ‘What do I do now?’ I answered: ‘I don’t know what to do.’ I was prepared for medical questions and he comes to me and says something like that. And he was right. It’s a problem. A lot of people didn’t have the means for it [homeschooling] and no knowledge or experience. And then we understood that we need different numbers [in the hotline]. [...] These 10

There are many Arabic-speaking, general and specialist doctors in Vienna from various Arabic countries, while people from Afghanistan could predominantly consult medical doctors from Iran with language skills in Farsi.

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six different numbers like social affairs or for people who need learning support. [...] there are many different Palestinian associations and from each one we got people who took care of social issues. We doctors have been running it because it’s more medical. But everybody helped. Different people were there and they were not all doctors of course. The task force was active in Austria but also networked throughout Europe. Several experts as well as the Palestinian doctor pointed out the necessity to take away people’s fear, to talk to them and establish a basis of trust. The existing lack of trust was also the result of failed communication by the official institutions mentioned above, and the general lack of reliability of media reporting in their countries of origin. In the beginning, experts mentioned that some people did not take COVID seriously, and saw it as some form of government propaganda. Just as detrimental in this respect was the communication strategy of then Federal Chancellor Sebastian Kurz, who did not address all parts of the population in his official speeches. The Chancellor alone used to say ‘Dear Austrians ...’ Excuse me, not only dear Austrians live here. They [refugees] don’t feel addressed. Yes, and he had done that every time. […] A whole country is affected now. Everyone who lives in this country is affected. You have to address them all. You feel that a lot of people are felt left out. Yes, I notice that; I read it on Facebook: ‘He doesn’t speak to us anyway. We can do what we want there anyway.’ That’s sarcasm, but it’s the truth. (S E6)

Legal and educational support Many institutions (offering medical, legal, social, educational, and psychosocial services) were closed and the clients had no idea where to turn. The so-called “gate keepers” in the system, care facilities for refugees, were closed in the first lockdown. People who were not yet familiar with the health, legal and social system in Austria had no idea where they could seek help. The doctors at the hotline (mentioned above) helped as well as they could, but were also out of their depth when it came to special medical cases. In certain crises, the intersection of medical and legal questions presented particularly difficulties. As interviews showed, people in some cases did not dare to call an ambulance when necessary. Especially those without insurance were afraid of

Maria Six-Hohenbalken and Josef Kohlbacher: Agency during the pandemic

having to pay for medical care, especially intensive care—and feared that in case they were unable to do so, they would lose their asylum status. From the perspective of medical experts, these multilayered cases had, of course, their limits, as in severe cases they were often overwhelmed and clueless. This was especially the case, when several problematic areas coincided, such as medical emergencies or chronic illnesses and legal uncertainties, or when children fell ill, when people needed inpatient hospitalization or specialist care. These reports correspond to the study of the SEREDA project, undertaken in the United Kingdom, Turkey, Tunisia, Sweden and Australia during the first year of COVID-19. This international project studied the effects of the pandemic on refugees who survived sexual and gender-based violence. Several of these results also apply to the general situation of refugees in Austria. The “precarious situations were exacerbated across different domains, including health and wellbeing [and that] undocumented migrants were anxious about seeking medical help and fearful of health charges or being reported to immigration authorities and deported” (Pertek et al. 2020, 3). Although all the initiatives and activists we interviewed were located in Vienna, they also offered their services via phone or social media to people across Austria. Some of the associations and networks were new, others had already existed before and then consolidated during the pandemic. Others like the medical task force founded by the Palestinian doctor further expanded and established a European network. Another serious complication in the offered services was consulting in legal matters. Established NGOs and institutions offered advice via phone but often just in German. Even though some had very good knowledge of German, experts argued that especially in specific medical or legal matters, any communication should take place in the first language to avoid serious consequences. As the once extensive services were no longer offered remotely, the associations and networks lost contact in individual cases. Older clients in particular were unable to take advantage of online services. In addition, there were also restrictions in the offer of online services due to data protection. Further factors were the pandemic measures established by the NGOs themselves to protect their employees. This required new processes and restructuring at established NGOs for keeping their services online. Communication and, above all, the transmission of necessary documents to ensure consultation was difficult in some cases. The necessary technical equipment and skills (scanners, software etc.) were not available to the clients—individual associations and NGOs

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nevertheless tried to provide consultation or necessary technical equipment any way they could. People requested support and assistance from (established) NGOs, for example, when they were fined for being in public spaces. These penalties were judged to be xenophobic, arbitrary and factually unjustified. In these cases, the NGOs provided assistance in appeals to these penalties, which were then either reduced or lifted altogether. Information and contact problems also arose in contact with public authorities, such as the Austrian Public Employment Service (AMS) or Vienna’s Municipal Department 40 (MA 40—Social Welfare, Social and Public Health Law) with regard to unemployment benefits and means-tested minimum benefits. Many refugees, especially those with general education deficits or little knowledge of German, were overwhelmed by this challenge. NGO employees, however, were often only able to offer limited assistance in this regard. Forwarding data via WhatsApp was not considered to comply with data protection regulations, and requiring the necessary documents via company phones was prohibited. In cases of problems with literacy, people simply could not read or complete the AMS or MA 40 forms. These obstacles were only overcome through individual social contacts (with experience from their own communities and/or Austrians). Although people felt increasingly informed about the measures and regulations, direct and linguistic support in case management was particularly difficult for bottom-up institutions and networks. Turning our gaze to families, one of the top-ranking challenges for parents was home schooling for several months. When it came to stressors during the pandemic, home schooling was rated to be almost as serious as unemployment or worrying about their families in their countries of origin. Parents and children were forced into the often unmanageable task of home schooling in small apartments, often without IT equipment and no additional support. Although networks and associations installed help lines and offered support, these services were insufficient for the diverse educational situations, which were hardly manageable in Austrian families in general. In comparison, the international SEREDA project highlights the fact that “digital poverty excluded many from participating in online support groups” (Pertek et al. 2020, 3). This is also true of our Austrian cases. People in refugee shelters and transitional housing had problems with their internet connection or reduced online access due to a lack of understanding of its importance from shelter management. The caregivers as well as the families concerned found the different quality of school support services in home schooling particularly striking. Parents

Maria Six-Hohenbalken and Josef Kohlbacher: Agency during the pandemic

with a higher level of education still had problems with the differences in teaching and learning systems to those in their country of origin. Striving to support their children in home schooling, they often relied on relatives who had been in Austria for a longer period of time or the help of aid organizations. Against this backdrop, we identified another fundamental factor related to volunteering in general: many of the established NGOs or “bridging organizations” offered learning assistance, mostly provided by volunteers. The lockdown stopped many of these support services, as they were predominantly offered by older people, often classified as vulnerable themselves due to age-related illnesses. The NGOs, of course, were suddenly confronted with a serious loss of important human resources. Although the “bonding organizations” became involved as well, they could not compensate for the lack of access to vulnerable volunteers even after the lockdown was lifted. Considerably fewer organizations and experts worked in the area of comprehensive learning support before the lockdown, even though some NGOs offer language tutoring. Almost overnight people required assistance in accessing learning materials and compensating for deficits in the IT infrastructure in refugee households. Moreover, parents and children needed help to cope with homework, language deficits etc. As yet another complication, families had children in different types of schools (from elementary to secondary and vocational school). Many activists and associations were not trained or prepared for such encompassing tasks.

Socio-psychological care In our study, we asked about the different areas and importance of support offered by the longer established associations and organizations of the Afghan and Syrian communities. The respondents most valued emotional support, followed by financial assistance, and translation services. Emotional support became more and more important over time, also in relation to the fear of loss of social contacts. Psychological problems of various kinds—from depression to anxiety disorders to complex traumatization symptoms—were described by both the interviewed experts and the interviewees as widespread COVID after-effects in all age groups of the communities. Isolation was seen as a major problem. However, it should be noted that many people were already suffering from social isolation before the pandemic, which was then greatly exacerbated by the lockdowns. The SEREDA study group considered the problem of social isolation as similarly relevant. Social isolation did

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not only aggravate anxiety about financial and health concerns, but amplified feelings of loneliness and reinforced fears about the future (Pertek et al. 2020, 3). As an initial complicating factor in this context, psychological problems are taboo in some societies of origin and, therefore, only gradually became an issue of concern. The raised awareness for psychological problems and how to deal with them could be seen as an accomplishment during the various lockdowns in the pandemic. The same is true for the general Austrian public. The institutions and networks also seemed more eager to actively deal with the problem and recognize their potential for supporting people. Almost one out of five respondents argued that the community associations and organizations were a point of contact for mental or health problems—a similarly positive value was attributed to friends or acquaintances from the respective communities. Just as intriguing were the results of our online survey: neither the counselling centers of NGOs nor religious institutions or functionaries were viewed as contacts in case of physical or mental illness. Respondents who had already been living in Austria for a longer time had better connections and networks to locals, and were more familiar with public offices and authorities as well as NGOs and institutions. From previous (prepandemic) studies,11 we learned that many people were interested in establishing social contacts with the residents after their arrival. It became quite clear that several respondents were ambivalent about relationships with diasporic organizations or co-ethnics. They argued that social relations to Austrians strengthened their integration efforts, widened their social sphere, and improved their language skills, while contacts with members of their society of origin would neither enhance their language skills nor increase their efforts to build a new existence. This was partly retraceable during the pandemic. One out of five respondents to the online survey turned to Austrian friends or acquaintances for support, and to a slightly lesser degree to friends from their own community. Less important in terms of direct (material, financial, legal etc.) support were NGOs as well as Afghan and Syrian associations or organizations of other groups of origin. The emotional and psycho-social level of networking within the community associations became more apparent during the pandemic.

11

E.g. Kohlbacher 2017, 167 ff.; Kohlbacher, Lehner and Rasuly-Paleczek 2020, 102, 141 ff.

Maria Six-Hohenbalken and Josef Kohlbacher: Agency during the pandemic

During the lockdown, several interviewees were afraid they would lose their established social contacts, as they could only stay in touch via social media and telephone. But it was primarily that. For years people tried to build up a structure in Austria, in Vienna. They tried—at least those who come to us voluntarily to learn—to build up networks and they all broke away. [...] but many structures and networks and contacts to other Austrians, Germans, Europeans, to the institutions have all broken away. (E7) Loss of social contacts and financial problems were rated almost equally important as stressors. They are followed, albeit at a considerable distance, by uncertainty about the situation of relatives at home. Many of the Afghans and Syrians interviewed were particularly concerned about family members in their countries of origin, and their state of health in view of the global pandemic. In this context, they were even more afraid of the latter than of getting ill themselves. Job worries, fear of unemployment, and the challenges of finding a new job, uncertainty about the worsening situation on the Viennese housing market, and family problems formed a complex web of stressors for many respondents. In comparison, the international SEREDA project also mentions the multiplexity of this problematic situation, when jobs, often first ones or in the informal economy, disappeared and socio-economic burdens to care and domestic responsibilities (such as home schooling) emerged (see Pertek et al. 2020, 3f.). A further stress factor for many families was their incapability to care for relatives in their home countries or for those still on refuge. Some families and individuals had already managed to get a job or income and could have supported family members who were in even more precarious situations. Due to joblessness and insecure living conditions, they could not provide the support they felt compelled to anymore.

Analytical notes The government’s failure to address vulnerable groups in general and refugees in particular during the first pandemic can be approached as “violent inaction”. Davies, Isakjee and Dhesi (2017) elaborated on the “politics of violent inaction” as a system-immanent strategy in some refugee regimes, based on approaches of bio/necropolitics (Michel Foucault; Achille Mbembe) and structural violence

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(Johan Galtung). They argue “that political inaction, as well as action, can be used as a means of control” (Davies, Isakjee and Dhesi 2017, 1263). Although the associations act as essential contact and advisory institutions but do not receive substantial material support, these associations show remarkable perseverance, nonetheless. Depending on the capacities the various associations had—some had infrastructure with offices, meeting rooms, fixed staff and volunteers, while others were only run by volunteers without own premises—they could organize community work and social or mental support and advice. Several denominations had established organizational structures in Austria, offering not only religious services but also rooms for socializing and community work.12 For a long time, places of worship in Austria were completely closed. Online services from the various denominations increased with the lockdown. Nevertheless, about two thirds of all respondents argued that they had not used such services at all, while only around one out of ten respondents considered such offers as very important; these services were rated more important by Afghan respondents then by Syrians. Smaller religious groups, such as Christian communities for example, to organize transnational prayer groups to bring people together online. These organizations had a better starting point to organize volunteer work, (online) socializing events, and material support. It became obvious in the empirical study that community organizations were seen as more important than religious institutions. Community organizations offered emotional support, opportunities of socializing, networking, coping with social isolation and loneliness, and were more important for potential financial or material support. Some associations and institutions had established specific services for women (legal and health issues, socializing, etc.) in pre-pandemic times. These services and networks were hardly possible online, as they depended on direct contact and confidential environments. Due to the multilayered problems (financial, legal, social etc.) and partly to difficult housing situations, experts emphasized the rise in domestic violence; the networks or associations have been hardly able to counteract this development. From previous studies we

12

Due to the legal structure, denominations can apply for official acknowledgement and, if successful, receive financial support. In 2022, 16 denominations had the status of acknowledged religious denomination in Austria. Furthermore, a wide-ranging structure of (partly ethnically-based) Muslim prayer houses were established.

Maria Six-Hohenbalken and Josef Kohlbacher: Agency during the pandemic

know that even in pre-pandemic times, Syrian and Afghan communities reported an increase in divorces, often initiated by women. Some associations attempted to respond to this trend; one association, for example, offered specific workshops on gender issues, yet another began publishing a magazine for women. As other studies have shown, the pandemic amplified the vulnerability of woman, as violent settings, abuse or exploitation increased (Pertek et al. 2020, 3f.) The empirical examples have shed light on various structural, functional and processual dimensions in the agency of associations and networks. The initiatives established by different networks, associations and individuals showed amazing dynamics of organizing support in various fields, with hardly any means and visibility for the general public. Individual actors and associations developed agency in various fields. Ethnic or religious belonging seemed not to be the main decisive factor. As initially stated, the empirical study followed a community participatory approach, although it did not pursue a strict community concept but captured the fluidity and bandwidth of initiatives. The various online and offline services developed in Vienna during the first lockdown went far beyond ethnic and religious boundaries. Crucial in refugee care work were language skills—Arabic, Farsi and Dari—which shaped the services and support of the various communities for the individuals. Eva Østergaard-Nielsen studied the politics of transnational political practices of migrants and elaborated on the significance of the “political opportunity structure” in the receiving countries for participation, such as in forming organizations etc. She argues that residence societies shape […] the collective organization of migrants by providing certain resources for, and models of, organizing. […] Similarly, the more rights and access to relevant political gatekeepers in the receiving country (trade unions, political parties or NGOs), the more immigrants’ political activities are channeled into the political system of the receiving country and adapted to the political discourse and ways of negotiating various demands (2003, 771). Specifically, the problem of proper communication of pandemic measures, the failure of the service of established NGOs and government institutions in particular, and the switch from “bridging” to “bonding” institutions in offering care and support illustrated several challenges in Austria. Before the pandemic, only a few ethnic/religious/migrant associations and institutions

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had managed to set up structures they could rely on in their care work during the pandemic. Although it is legally quite simple to found an association in Austria, there is hardly any financial support for such associations, or it is very difficult to obtain, in order to hire staff and occupy association premises. Much of their success is based on years of voluntary work. Unlike in Germany, for example, where many grassroots movements, offering language courses etc., emerged in the course of the refugee movements in 2015, there were hardly any longterm financial possibilities for this in Austria. Countries with an inclusive multicultural regime of migrant incorporation are particularly conducive to political engagement and organization building processes in various fields. For initiatives and networks active “beyond the radar”, Mc Cabe and Phillimore scrutinized the prerequisites: among the decisive factors were strong networks between key individuals and the wider community. Technical or organizational skills evolved over time and were not crucial (2012, 10). Such networks and groups were “embedded more in networks of individual agency than institutional strategy” (Edwards and Woods 2006, 61 in Mc Cabe and Phillimore 2012, 12). The necessary skills were developed collectively or by recruiting experts (ibid. 2012, 17). The interviewed Palestinian doctor in our study, whose network was expanded by bringing in experts (for education, social work etc.) is a good example. Additional key factors are so-called soft skills, such as connectedness, empathy and passion as well as knowledge from personal experience. Our Austrian study did not specifically ask for the motivations of various actors. Nevertheless, our analysis shows shared migration experiences and perceived social injustice as part of the driving forces why people and initiatives became active (see e.g. Weng and Lee 2016, 513). People referred to a great desire to get involved, although their capacities were limited. The agency of activists and networks went far beyond the classic spheres of diasporic engagement (see Van Hear 2014) and beyond ethnic/national/religious etc. boundaries. Flanigan brings philanthropy into play as a crucial factor, a field of research which is in its infancy (Flanigan 2017, 495). Although experts argue that civic participation in form of voluntary engagement by migrants is assumed to be a relevant indicator of integration, their engagement in this context has been seriously neglected by research and is hardly visible. Volunteer work and civic engagement offer social participation opportunities and create a space for gaining experience and additional competencies. Such commitment enables empowerment and self-organiza-

Maria Six-Hohenbalken and Josef Kohlbacher: Agency during the pandemic

tion of disadvantaged groups, while strengthening solidarity and social cohesion. Grassroots organizations established by migrants and refugees contribute to the overall social support and can act as mediating institutions. Furthermore, they help to overcome feelings of insecurity and defenselessness (see Reinprecht 2009 and Žarković 2015). Virtual and real networks can act as social glue; they help to overcome isolation. Raoul Acosta analyzed the meaning of advocacy networks and how they can become key actors on various national and international levels through their soft power strategies. If we wish to grasp the multidimensionality of such networks, we need to consider not only the “scales of action and interaction, cultural contexts and legacies, network logic, discourse production and contestation but also the institutional eco-system” (Acosta 2012, 156). Such networks are characterized by fluid, tangible forms of complex relations, existing outside or “beyond” formal state institutions. Acosta argues that these “emerging liquid organizational forms” establish a “global civil society” (Salamon et al. 2003 in Acosta 2012, 159). An example for such a global civil society initiative in the study is the Palestinian doctor, integrated in a pan-European collaboration of Arabic-speaking doctors, who started to network during the pandemic. Although the various roles of associations and networks are of specific meaning in the integration processes in general and the state of exception during the pandemic in particular, this agency and volunteer work remains unacknowledged by respective policy makers, state institutions related to refugee issues, and academia as well. Angus McCabe, Jenny Phillimore and Lucy Mayblin criticize stereotypical conceptions of understanding voluntary work, which is perceived (related to the United Kingdom) as “predominantly white, middle aged and middle class” (2010, 18). Despite all these initiatives in Austria—and our study only addressed a few elements of this volunteer work—this comprehensive civil engagement has not been acknowledged as such. Following McCabe’s point of view, we are tempted to argue that the representational character of voluntary work in Austria is marked by exclusion, as it does not encompass the agency of non-Austrian, non-middle-class, and non-middle-aged people. Heidrun Friese argues that “making visible” or “visibility” are part of political strategy. Visibility is an essential feature of humanitarian and critical discourse to make suffering visible, legitimize humanitarian action, and evoke critical discourse (Friese 2019). At the same time, invisibilization is also a political strategy in refugee regimes. Although community networks, organizations, diasporic networks, and grassroots initiatives are important factors in

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these regimes, they struggle with insufficient material support, acknowledgement by the general public and policy makers. In this persistent invisibility, they remain firmly “beyond the radar”.

References Acosta, Raúl. 2012. “Advocacy Networks Through a Multidisciplinary Lens: Implications for Research Agendas”. Voluntas: International Journal of Voluntary and Nonprofit Organization 23, no. 1, Civil Society in Africa (March 2012): 156–181. Coffé, Hilde and Benny Geys. 2007a. “Towards an Empirical Characterization of Bridging and Bonding Social Capital.” Nonprofit and Voluntary Sector Quarterly 36, no. 1: 121–39. Coffé, Hilde and Benny Geys. 2007b. “Participation in Bridging and Bonding Associations and Civic Attitudes: Evidence from the Flanders.” Voluntas: International Journal of Voluntary and Nonprofit Organizations 18: 385–399. Davies, Thom, Isakjee, Arshad and Surindar Dhesi. 2017.” Violent Inaction: The Necropolitical Experience of Refugees in Europe.” Antipode 49, no. 5: 1263–1284. doi: https://doi.org/10.1111/anti.12325. Flanigan, Shawn Teresa. 2017. “Crowdfunding and Diaspora Philanthropy. An Integration of the Literature and Major Concepts.” Voluntas: International Journal of Voluntary and Nonprofit Organizations 28, no. 2: 492–509. Friese, Heidrun. 2019. “Framing Mobility, Refugees and the Social Imagination.” In Die Lange Dauer der Flucht—Analysen aus Wissenschaft und Praxis. ISR-Forschungsbericht 49, edited by Josef Kohlbacher and Maria Six-Hohenbalken, 25–42. Vienna: Austrian Academy of Sciences Press. Kohlbacher, Josef. 2017. “Steps on the way to social integration”: Initial social interactions of refugees from Syria, Iraq and Afghanistan with the host society, their relevance, assessment and implications, in: From Destination to Integration—Afghan, Syrian and Iraqi Refugees in Vienna, ISR-Forschungsbericht 45, edited by Josef Kohlbacher and Leonardo Schiocchet, 167–193. Vienna: Austrian Academy of Sciences Press. Kohlbacher, Josef, Lehner, Marie and Gabriele Rasuly-Paleczek. 2020. Afghan/inn/en in Österreich—Perspektiven von Integration, Inklusion und Zusammenleben. ISR-Forschungsbericht 52. Vienna: Austrian Academy of Sciences Press.

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Kohlbacher, Josef and Maria Six-Hohenbalken eds. (unter Mitarbeit von Gabriele Rasuly-Paleczek, Sabine Bauer-Amin und Marie Lehner). 2021. COVID-19 im Flucht- und Integrationskontext—soziale Implikationen der Pandemie für die syrischen und afghanischen Communities sowie NGOs der Flüchtlingsbetreuung in Wien. ISR-Forschungsbericht 56. Vienna: Austrian Academy of Sciences Press. Lewis-Beck, Michael, Bryman, Alan and Tim Liao. 2004. The SAGE Encyclopedia of Social Science Research Methods. No.1. Thousand Oaks/London/New Dehli: SAGE Publications. McCabe, Angus, Phillimore, Jenny and Lucy Mayblin. 2010. “‘Below the radar’ activities and organisations in the third sector: a summary review of the literature.” Third Sector Research Centre Working Paper 29. Birmingham. McCabe, Angus and Jenny Phillimore. 2012. “Seeing and doing. Learning, resources and social networks below the radar.” Third Sector Research Centre Working Paper 91. Seeing-and-doing-learning-resources-and-social-networks-below-the-radar.pdf, [accessed 23.07.2022]. Østergaard-Nielsen, Eva. 2003. “The Politics of Migrants’ Transnational Political Practices.” International Migration Review 37, no. 3, Transnational Migration: International Perspectives, 760–786. Pertek, Sandra, Phillimore, Jenny, McKnight, Pip et al. 2020. Forced migration, SGBV and COVID-19. Understanding the Impact of COVID-19 on Forced Migrant Survivors of SGBV. Birmingham: Institute for Research into Superdiversity. Forced Migration, SGBV and COVID-19 (birmingham.ac.uk), [accessed 23.07.2022]. Phillimore, Jenny and Angus McCabe with Andri Soteri-Proctor and Rebecca Taylor. 2010. “Understanding the distinctiveness of small scale, third sector activity: the role of local knowledge and networks in shaping below the radar actions.” Third Sector Research Centre. Working Paper 33, May 2010. Rabl, Stefan. 2021. Asylstatistik Österreich 2020 [7. April 2021] online: Asylstatistik 2020 | Migration—Info & Grafik (migration-infografik.at), [accessed 23.07.2022]. Reinprecht, Christoph. 2009. “Freiwilliges Engagement und MigrantInnen.” In Freiwilliges Engagement in Österreich. 1. Freiwilligenbericht, edited by More-Hollerweger, Eva and Arno Heimgartner, 137–147. Im Auftrag des Bundesministeriums für Arbeit, Soziales und Konsumentenschutz. Wien: BMASK.

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Contributors

Alizadeh, Hooshmand Institute for Urban and Regional Research, Austrian Academy of Sciences Hajulah, Laila Writer, Translator, Austria Khoury, Christina Department for Migration and Globalisation, University for Continuing Education, Krems Kohlbacher, Josef Institute for Urban and Regional Research, Austrian Academy of Sciences Kohlenberger, Judith Institute for Social Policy, Vienna University of Economics and Business Mardnli, Judy University of Art and Design in Linz, Austria Mokre, Monika Institute of Culture Studies and Theatre Studies, Austrian Academy of Sciences Moradi, Fazil Institute for Advanced Study, University of Johannesburg Müller, Stephan Political Scientist, Central Council of the German Sinti and Roma Rössl, Lydia Department for Migration and Globalisation, University for Continuing Education, Krems

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Six-Hohenbalken, Maria Institute for Social Anthropology, Austrian Academy of Sciences Tayebi, Naseem S. Institute for Medical Information Processing, Biometry and Epidemiology (IBE), LMU Munich Traska, Georg Institute of Culture Studies and Theatre Studies, Austrian Academy of Sciences Zardo, Federica Department for Migration and Globalisation, University for Continuing Education, Krems