Public and private photographs of refugees: the problem of representation

Abstract

In 1948 Manivald Sein made a series of photographs as he crossed the Atlantic Ocean, illegally, on board the Walnut. He was one of 347 passengers, mostly Estonian refugees, who escaped Soviet occupation near the end of Second World War and who were again fleeing Stalin's wrath after living in Sweden for four years. This article will examine the various ways photographs taken by refugees in transit not only give a voice to their experience, but more importantly, allow outsiders to see them as complex human beings, which in turn provides a powerful counterpoint to prevailing stereotypes.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

The research for this article has been supported by the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada through the Joseph-Armand Bombardier Canada Graduate Scholarships (CGS) Program. I would also like to acknowledge the valuable input of David Murray, Teresa Holmes and Colin Coates.

Notes

[1] This quotation from Lenin was printed in ‘Refugee year: An interim report from the sketchbook of Robert Searle’, Punch, 30 December 1959.

[2] Sweden positioned itself as neutral territory after the war; however, in 1945, under extreme pressure 2700 soldiers, including 175 Estonians, were extradited to the Soviet Union (Aun 1995, 22–4). Even though the Swedish government continued to announce that it would not bend to Stalin's defiant push for repatriation, fears abounded amongst all Baltic refugees.

[3] Karl Aun claims that 17 of the ‘little Viking boats’ went to the US, 10 to Canada, 6 to South Africa, 5 to Argentina, 3 to England, 1 to Brazil, 2 sunk and 2 lost (1995, 25).

[4] It is significant that the passports were issued in Sweden because legally this suggests that they were not really passports, but simply identification cards. This legitimises the insecurity all Estonians in Sweden felt at this time.

[5] The Walnut’s passengers represent the largest group in Canadian history (prior to the arrival of the MV Sun Sea in 2010) to spend the longest period of time under guard in detention centres.

[6] In his article, ‘Waving not Drowning: Boat People and Humanitarianism at Sea’, Michael Pugh lists the standard risks experienced by those migrating illegally by boat. This list includes: limited navigational equipment; little safety equipment; unreliable engines and steering; insanitary conditions; fire risks and limited food and water (2004, 56). All of these risks were experienced by the Walnut’s passengers.

[7] The relevance of this paradox is echoed in Gilad (1990, 146), Zucker and Zucker (1996, 131) and Mansouri and Leach (2004, 114).

[8] I am emphasising the idea of illegality here because it is used as a control mechanism for national immigration policies, when in fact those arriving by boat still fall into the United Nations designation of refugee status.

[9] I am currently undertaking extensive research about the 1986 arrival of the Amelie and have completed a survey of all media reports to date.

[10] This prevalence has been noted by scholars focused on Canadian examples including Watson (2006), Mountz (2003) and Greenberg (2000).

[11] This type of labelling begins in an article in the Vancouver Sun, 12 August 2010, titled, ‘Smugglers and terrorists aboard Tamil ship chose Canada’. For the first photographs published about this arrival of refugees see http://www.vancouversun.com/news/Photos+Images+migrants+spent+months/3400231/story.html.

[12] The scholars in question include: Watson (2006), Kazimi (2005), Mountz (2003), Greenberg and Hier (2001) and Johnston (1989).

[13] Meinhof and Galainski (2000) address photography in this respect.

[14] Many scholars have focused the competing and multi-layered processes of identity construction inherent to immigrant and refugee narratives, including Malkki (1995b), Mansouri and Leach (2004), Khalili (2007), and Kumsa (2006).