Terrible Fate
Ethnic Cleansing in the Making
of Modern Europe
by Benjamin Lieberman
Ivan R. Dee, 416 pp., $27.50
Ethnic cleansing has changed the face of Europe. In 1913 Salonika was a multicultural city with more Jews and Muslims than Greek Orthodox Christians. By the middle of the 20th century it was a Greek city with virtually no Jews or Muslims. Until the beginning of the 20th century, Macedonia had been home to both Bulgarians and Greeks. In 1916 Greeks fled. At the beginning of the 20th century the western sectors of the Russian empire were heavily populated by Jews, who had lived there for centuries. Within a few decades virtually no Jews lived in these areas, or in many other parts of Europe.
The Polish port city of Gdansk was once a German city. Little, if any, of the German presence is felt there today. Izmir used to be home to a substantial Greek population. It no longer is. In eastern Turkey there are scores of towns and villages once populated by millions of Armenians. The Turks expelled them in acts of unprecedented intensity. In what was the Austro- Hungarian Empire an exceptionally diverse mix of peoples once lived. Little of that diversity is still evident.
These changes were the result not of natural population movements but of brutal actions, now termed ethnic cleansing. This is the subject of Benjamin Lieberman's compelling book.
What motivates neighbor to brutally turn on neighbor? It may be conflicting languages, religions, or national identities. Some attackers consider it a chance for personal gain: Never underestimate the lure of looting, or deriving perverse pleasure from driving neighbors from their homes. There is yet another factor: history, or more properly put, the rendition of history to which one portion of the population has been exposed. While these stories of betrayal and injustice may be true, others are greatly exaggerated or false.
As Lieberman demonstrates, ethnic cleansing feeds upon itself. As the century progressed it became an increasingly familiar response to political situations. People knew it, and considered it a legitimate means of solving their perceived problems.
While the Armenian genocide and the Holocaust are probably the best known of the century's atrocities, neither is a template for ethnic cleansing, which has generally been used by weak governments to deflect attention from genuine problems. In contrast, the Holocaust, the Armenian genocide, and, for that matter, Stalin's treatment of a host of minorities, were conducted by authoritarian regimes at the height of their power.
The Holocaust is certainly not a template because, generally, ethnic cleansing's objective is the removal of a segment of the population through deportations, population transfers, and forced migration. The perpetrators know that the result of these actions could be death, even on a massive scale. However, their objective is not murder. In contrast, Nazi Germany chased down every Jew it could find in order to murder them. They did so even when the men and materiel used for the killing could have been better deployed elsewhere.
The new Jewish Museum in Rome contains a letter written on a crumpled piece of paper by a Jew as he was being deported from the Italian capital. It is dated May 20, 1944. Rome was liberated on June 4th. As the Allied forces were on Rome's doorstep, the Germans, rather than throw all available resources to repelling the enemy, were deporting Jews to Auschwitz. The letter writer never returned.
How might ethnic cleansing be repaired and prevented in the future? Unless refugees are returned in short order to their homes, the chances for resettlement are very poor. If they do return, there must be local reconciliation projects, economic development, legal proceedings, and effective guarantees of security. Those who have committed these acts must be apprehended and tried in the appropriate legal setting.
Lieberman believes that historians from both sides of the conflict must work together to create an accurate historical record. It may well be research by historians--Turkish historians in particular--that will compel Turkey to end its genocide denial. As Turkish historians explore what their country did, it will become increasingly difficult for the government to continue to hide behind historical fictions. But it is not sufficient, Lieberman notes, for the historians to conduct research. The broader public will have to accept its findings. Once that happens, the policymakers will have no choice but to follow in their wake.
Germany's postwar entry into the "family of nations" was hastened by its strategic geographic importance in the Cold War. However, that reentry would not have been as swift or complete had Germany not openly acknowledged and made amends for the unspeakable horrors committed by both the Nazi leaders and millions of Germans during World War II. Its willingness to face its past was certainly not complete. Perpetrators were given light sentences or never prosecuted. Slave laborers found it difficult to receive compensation. Nazi-era judges continued in their posts. Medical doctors who participated in gassing experiments went on to distinguished careers in Germany.
These failings notwithstanding, Germany did not shrink from acknowledging the deeds it had committed and making some restitution for them. This certainly facilitated the healing process.
This is a painful book to read. Many people will recoil from the repeated tales of looting, physical persecution, and death. That would be a mistake. The only hope for an end to this terrible march of horrors is for people--particularly Europeans--to understand and acknowledge it. As Lieberman notes in his conclusion, "arriving at a new understanding of history" will not resolve all problems, but it will increase the chances that different groups will be able to live in peace together.
Deborah E. Lipstadt, professor of Holocaust Studies at Emory, is the author, most recently, of History on Trial: My Day in Court with David Irving.