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After the entry of the Red Army into Czechoslovak territory in 1945, Red Army authorities began to arrest and deport Czechoslovak citizens to labor camps in the Soviet Union. The regions most affected were Eastern and South Slovakia and Prague. The Czechoslovak authorities repeatedly requested a halt to the deportations and that the deported Czechoslovaks be returned immediately. It took a long time before these protests generated any response. Czechoslovak Diplomacy and the Gulag focuses on the diplomatic and political aspects of the deportations. The author explains the steps taken by the Czechoslovak Government in the repatriation agenda from 1945 to 1953 and reconstructs the negotiations with the Soviets. The research tries to answer the question of why and how the Russians deported the civilian population from Czechoslovakia which was their allied country already during the war. Key words: 1. World War, 1939–1945—Deportations from Czechoslovakia. 2. Forced labor—Soviet Union—History. 3. Labor camps—Soviet Union—History. 4. Czechs—Soviet Union—History. 5. Slovaks—Soviet Union--History. 6. Czechoslovakia—Foreign relations—Soviet Union. 7. Soviet Union—Foreign relations—Czechoslovakia. 8. Czechoslovakia—Foreign relations—1945–1992. 9. Repatriation—Czechoslovakia—History.

How is it that some prisoners of the Soviet gulag-many of them falsely convicted-emerged from the camps maintaining their loyalty to the party that was responsible for their internment? In camp, they had struggled to survive. Afterward they struggled to reintegrate with society, reunite with their loved ones, and sometimes renew Party ties. Based on oral histories, archives, and unpublished memoirs, Keeping Faith with the Party chronicles the stories of returnees who professed enduring belief in the CPSU and the Communist project. Nanci Adler's probing investigation brings a deeper understanding of the dynamics of Soviet Communism and of how individuals survive within repressive regimes while the repressive regimes also survive within them.

The 1930s exodus of “Okies” dispossessed by repeated droughts and failed crop prices was a relatively brief interlude in the history of migrant agricultural labor. Yet it attracted wide attention through the publication of John Steinbeck's The Grapes of Wrath (1939) and the images of Farm Security Administration photographers such as Dorothea Lange and Arthur Rothstein. Ironically, their work risked sublimating the subjects-real people and actual experience-into aesthetic artifacts, icons of suffering, deprivation, and despair. Working for the Farm Security Administration in California's migrant labor camps in 1938-39, Sanora Babb, a young journalist and short story writer, together with her sister Dorothy, a gifted amateur photographer, entered the intimacy of the dispossessed farmers' lives as insiders, evidenced in the immediacy and accuracy of their writings and photos. Born in Oklahoma and raised on a dryland farm, the Babb sisters had unparalleled access to the day-by-day harsh reality of field labor and family life. This book presents a vivid, firsthand account of the Dust Bowl refugees, the migrant labor camps, and the growth of labor activism among Anglo and Mexican farm workers in California's agricultural valleys linked by the “Dirty Plate Trail” (Highway 99). It draws upon the detailed field notes that Sanora Babb wrote while in the camps, as well as on published articles and short stories about the migrant workers and an excerpt from her Dust Bowl novel, Whose Names Are Unknown. Like Sanora's writing, Dorothy's photos reveal an unmediated, personal encounter with the migrants, portraying the social and emotional realities of their actual living and working conditions, together with their efforts to organize and to seek temporary recreation. An authority in working-class literature and history, volume editor Douglas Wixson places the Babb sisters' work in relevant historical and social-political contexts, examining their role in reconfiguring the Dust Bowl exodus as a site of memory in the national consciousness. Focusing on the material conditions of everyday existence among the Dust Bowl refugees, the words and images of these two perceptive young women clearly show that, contrary to stereotype, the “Okies” were a widely diverse people, including not only Steinbeck's sharecropper “Joads” but also literate, independent farmers who, in the democracy of the FSA camps, found effective ways to rebuild lives and create communities.

The Soviet Gulag was one of the largest, most complex, and deadliest systems of incarceration in the 20th century. What lessons can we learn from its network of labor camps and prisons and exile settlements, which stretched across vast geographic expanses, included varied institutions, and brought together inmates from all the Soviet Union's ethnicities, professions, and social classes? Drawing on a massive body of documentary evidence, Rethinking the Gulag: Identities, Sources, Legacies explores the Soviet penal system from various disciplinary perspectives. Divided into three sections, the collection first considers \"identities\"-the lived experiences of contingents of detainees who have rarely figured in Gulag histories to date, such as common criminals and clerics. The second section surveys \"sources\" to explore the ways new research methods can revolutionize our understanding of the system. The third section studies \"legacies\" to reveal the aftermath of the Gulag, including the folk beliefs and traditions it has inspired and the museums built to memorialize it. While all the chapters respond to one another, each section also concludes with a reaction by a leading researcher: geographer Judith Pallot, historian Lynne Viola, and cultural historian and literary scholar Alexander Etkind. Moving away from grand metaphorical or theoretical models, Rethinking the Gulag instead unearths the complexities and nuances of experience that represent a primary focus in the new wave of Gulag studies.

Camps that interned black civilians during the South African War (1899–1902) are known as concentration camps, yet this is an inaccurate and misrepresentative picture of what actually transpired during the conflict. Rather, the concentration camps established for black civilians in South Africa late in 1900 and early 1901 were, by mid-1901, incorporated into the newly formed Native Refugee Department which fell under direct command of the British Army. At this point, the camps were mostly closed down and the internees relocated to Boer farms cleared of civilians. There, camps were established by the Native Refugee Department with a completely different function to that of the concentration camp system. These camps operated as forced labour camps in which women, children and elderly men were compelled into the labour of growing crops for the British military in exchange for food. If they refused, they were starved to death under the ‘let die’ policy. The Dry Harts Forced Labour Camp forms the focus of this article. A combination of sources was used to reconstruct its history: archaeological surveys, the fragmentary written archive, and through accessing local oral history and memory at the site, from 2001–2008. A narrative emerges from this research of the fight for land, the implementation of forced labour, civilian displacement, and the horror of total war, which are not, as some scholars claim, a shared experience with the Boer population at the hands of a common enemy, commensurate with mutual suffering, or even of black participation in the war. The experience of black civilians inside Dry Harts Forced Labour Camp was fundamentally different: theirs was not so-called participation but rather a separate experience of land loss, forced labour, war and displacement.

A collection of newspaper articles about Dust Bowl migrants in California's Central Valley by the author of The Grapes of Wrath, accompanied by photos.   Three years before his triumphant novel The Grapes of Wrath—a fictional portrayal of a Depression-era family fleeing Oklahoma during a disastrous period of drought and dust storms—John Steinbeck wrote seven articles for the San Francisco News about these history-making events and the hundreds of thousands who made their way west to work as farm laborers.   With the inquisitiveness of an investigative reporter and the emotional power of a novelist in his prime, Steinbeck toured the squatters' camps and Hoovervilles of rural California.  The Harvest Gypsies gives us an eyewitness account of the horrendous Dust Bowl migration, and provides the factual foundation for Steinbeck's masterpiece. Included are twenty-two photographs by Dorothea Lange and others, many of which accompanied Steinbeck's original articles.   '\"Steinbeck's potent blend of empathy and moral outrage was perfectly matched by the photographs of Dorothea Lange, who had caught the whole saga with her camera—the tents, the jalopies, the bindlestiffs, the pathos and courage of uprooted mothers and children.\"— San Francisco Review of Books   \"Steinbeck's journalism shares the enduring quality of his famous novel…Certain to engage students of both American literature and labor history.\"— Publishers Weekly

Although the Danube-Black Sea Canal had been one of Ceaușescu’s pet projects, used by the communist leader to enhance his image as a visionary prophet of the Golden Era of socialism, the idea of a canal that would connect the Danube and the Black Sea may have been as old as ancient Roman history. It is certainly along one of the lines of Trajan’s Wall (Valul lui Traian), running along the Kara Su Valley, that the canal had been imagined, in the 19th century, by various adventurers and travellers. In the 20th century, with the development of technology, the idea turned into a project: in 1922 and 1923, two Romanian engineers (Jean Stoenescu Dunăre and Aurel Bărglăzan) came up with very definite plans of how to create a fourth arm of the Danube, which would help navigation by shortening the distance travelled by commercial ships with about 400 kilometres. The actual building of the Canal, initiated by Gheorghe Gheorghiu Dej at Stalin’s orders, was less intended as a technological advancement and more as a pretext to exterminate the interwar elite in the forced labour camps established along the Danube. Work at the Canal began in 1949 and ended in 1953, after Stalin’s death. Though only 20 km had been completed out of the intended 70 km, the legacy of the forced labour camps includes a large number of poems written by the detainees, detailing the inhuman treatment they received and making up a shattering testimonial of life in the Communist labour camps. My paper intends to present and analyse a selection of such poems, showing how they take up the myth of the exiled Ovid and mix it with symbols of Christian suffering. In most of the poems, the colour that is associated with life in the labour camps is black: the blackness of the Black Sea (the inhospitable Pontus, in Ovid’s poetry) is thus transferred onto the traditional ‘blue’ Danube.

During the first months following Germany’s attack on Poland, some members of the Jewish community managed to sneak away to the eastern frontiers of the country which had been invaded and annexed by the Red Army in the second half of September 1939. The tragic experiences of these refugees, heretofore somehow neglected by Holocaust scholars, have recently become the subject of profound academic reflection. One of the sources of knowledge about the fate of Jewish refugees from Poland are their memoirs. In this article the author reflects on three autobiographical texts written by Polish Jewish women, female refugees who survived the Holocaust thanks to their stay in Soviet Russia, namely Ola Watowa, Ruth Turkow Kaminska, and Sheyne-Miriam Broderzon. Each of them experienced not only the atrocities of war, but also, most of all, the cruelty of the Communist regime. All three of them suffered persecution by the oppressive Soviet authorities in different ways and at different times. While Ola Watowa experienced (in person, as well as through the fate of her family and friends) the bitter taste of persecution and deportation during WWII, Sheyne-Miriam Broderzon lived a relatively peaceful life in that period (1939–1945), and Ruth Turkow Kaminska even enjoyed the luxurious lifestyle reserved for the privileged members of the establishment, and it was not until the years immediately after the war that the latter two women would face the true image of Communism as its victims. The Wats managed to leave the USSR shortly after the war, whereas for the Broderzons and the Turkows the war would not end until the death of Stalin and their subsequent return to Poland in 1956. According to Mary G. Mason, the immanent feature of women’s autobiographical writings is the self-discovery of one’s own identity through the simultaneous identification of some ‘other.’ It is thanks to the rootedness of one’s own identity through the connection with a certain chosen ‘other’ that women authors can openly write about themselves. The aim of the article is to attempt to determine to what extent this statement remains true for the memoirs of the three Polish Jewish women who, besides sharing the aforementioned historical circumstances, are also linked by the fact that all of them stayed in romantic relationships with outstanding men (i.e. writers Aleksander Wat and Moyshe Broderzon, and jazzman Adi Rosner), which had an enormous impact not only on their lives in general, but also specifically on the creation and style of their autobiographical narratives, giving them the character of a sui generis double portrait.