Borderlands – but in which country? The Biosphere Reserve of Carpathian Ukraine, here in 2019. | Photo: Dimatrofimchuk / Wikimedia Commons

It is marked by long mountain ranges, dense forests and remote valleys, and is dotted with fields and meadows down in the plains: Transcarpathia is almost a third of the size of Switzerland and lies today in the far west of Ukraine, bordering onto Romania, Hungary, Slovakia and Poland. It has always been regarded as existing on the periphery, and has likewise always been exposed to external influences. Many refugees crossed this region when Russia attacked Ukraine. Today, it also repeatedly suffers power cuts lasting several hours.

This region, now known as Carpathian Ukraine, is home to all manner of population groups who have settled here over the course of time. There are Ruthenians – since the 19^th century a common term for Eastern Slavic population groups outside Russia – Ukrainians, Hungarians, Germans, Romanians, Poles, Jews, Roma, Slovaks and Czechs. For a long time, this region belonged to Austria-Hungary. Before the First World War, it was relatively peaceful.

But then different occupying powers arrived in quick succession: Romanian, Hungarian, French and Czechoslovakian troops all took their turn until the area was transferred to the newly founded state of Czechoslovakia in 1920. After Hungary had reincorporated parts of Transcarpathia in November 1938, the local population proclaimed an independent Carpatho-Ukraine on the day that Czechoslovakia was dismembered by the Nazis in 1939. It existed for only 27 hours, however. The region came under Hungarian rule, was returned to Czechoslovakia after the Red Army arrived, and finally became part of the Ukrainian Soviet Socialist Republic in 1946.

“The borders crossed the people”

“Between the two world wars, there was nowhere else in Europe where the border changed so many times, or where a region swapped nation states as often as was the case here”, says Julia Richers, a professor at the University of Bern and an expert in Eastern European history. The population had to endure up to 17 military occupations in less than three decades. Many people changed country six times – some without ever having to leave their native village. Richers quotes a common saying from that time: “It wasn’t the people who crossed the border, it was the borders that crossed the people”.

Did those who variously ruled Transcarpathia follow any particular plan during their occupation of it? How did these constant changes of government affect the everyday life of the population and their sense of coexistence? And how did individual people deal with these changes? These are the questions that a research team led by Richers is keen to investigate. They are focusing on three different perspectives: that of the state actors involved, that of the different social groups and, last but not least, that of the individuals who were affected.

Letters, diaries, photo albums, films

“Very little research has been done on the interwar period in this region, and there’s a lot about which we’re still completely in the dark”, says Richers. Her project is taking place in collaboration with Ukrainian researchers. It’s still in its early stages and is only due to be completed by 2027. In order to get answers to their questions, they are currently searching for documents in state and private archives and other collections. They’re studying people’s biographies and their archives, reading correspondence and diaries and consulting court and police files. But they’re also looking at photo albums and film footage and listening to audio recordings of contemporary witnesses.

“We can already see just how deeply this seemingly remote region was influenced by its neighbouring states”, says Richers. It’s particularly important, she says, to conduct this research in several languages – including Russian, Ukrainian, Hungarian, Romanian, Czech, Slovakian and Yiddish. A multilingual approach by definition means looking at things from different angles.

Berenika Zeller is a doctoral student on the team and is investigating how Czechoslovakia took control of the region after the First World War. The government in Prague launched an ambitious ‘modernisation’ programme at the time, building roads and railways, installing telephone lines and border posts and setting up schools and hospitals. The state sent thousands of civil servants, nurses, geographers, police officers and teachers to settle in the Carpathians. The aim was to absorb the region into the Czechoslovakian Republic and integrate it into this new nation state. But Prague also wanted to control it, and the security policies that were imposed from above repeatedly triggered resistance among the local populace. “Teachers refused to swear allegiance to the new republic, while others engaged in violent protests against tax collectors and police”, says Zeller.

A school celebration with dancing in Carpathian Ukraine in the 1930s.

Their project is also analysing the situation of the majority population – the East Slavic Ruthenians. “Despite their numerical strength, they were all-too-often treated like a minority by the occupying forces”, says Michèle Häfliger, also a doctoral student on the project. Every new government tried to win over this population group for their own purposes, usually through targeted propaganda.

We can see the proof in the documents that still exist from different parties, associations, churches, schools and other organisations. The efforts of the state weren’t always successful, however, says Häfliger: “Many people lived in conditions of such poverty that they were more concerned with their everyday worries than with matters of national consciousness”.

The Jewish population was also subjected to a lot of pressure. They lived both in the urban centres and in remote village communities. “With every change of nation state, the new rulers would accuse the Jews in particular of not integrating sufficiently, of behaving disloyally or even of spying for foreign powers”, says Richers. “These accusations are a recurring topic throughout this period”.

Over the course of history, the Jewish population here learnt that big changes rarely brought anything good. They seem to have lived largely in peace with their multi-ethnic neighbours, though there were sometimes tensions between members of different Jewish denominations.

The borders with the neighbouring regions were probably more porous than governments actually wanted – a fact that seems to be confirmed by some of the survey’s early discoveries: Marriages across the borders were not uncommon, familial relationships were widely ramified, and the membership lists of clubs shifted back and forth. If someone didn’t have to adapt (or didn’t want to do so), they might just withdraw and wait for the next change of government.

But such an attitude could have disastrous consequences for individual population groups – especially for the Jewish population. Many tried to emigrate, but only when it was already too late. Some 90 percent of the Jewish population of Carpathian Ukraine was murdered in the Holocaust.

“People in border regions are usually aware that they are at particular risk when armed conflict breaks out”, says Richers. Her newly developed concept of ‘border biographies’ aims to place the focus of research on people’s stories in these regions, examining their experiences of the world in which they lived. In Central and Eastern Europe in particular, this concept could allow for a better understanding of complex historical contexts. Traditional historiography usually takes the perspective of nation states and their power interests: “Instead, we are asking ourselves how the history of borders and changing occupations has shaped the people on the ground”.

A trilingual grocery shop

So what marks did the political changes of the interwar period leave on Carpathian Ukraine? Are traces of the past still visible there? It is almost impossible to draw a direct link between the events of those days and the state of things today. There have been too many ethnic expulsions since then, says Richers. And yet there are details that have survived down the decades. For example, Richers discovered a small grocery shop in the town of Užhorod on the border with Slovakia that still has its sign in three languages: Ukrainian, Hungarian and Czech – a remnant of more turbulent times.