Leslie Waters. <i>Borders on the Move: Territorial Change and Ethnic Cleansing in the Hungarian-Slovak Borderlands, 1938–1948</i>.

One of the main motivations behind this book has been the lack of literature on the history of the Hungarian-Slovak borderland, certainly in English (but balanced accounts are rare in other languages, too). In contrast, the Hungarian-Romanian or the Czech-German borderlands have already been subjects of greater scrutiny, as have of course the national histories of most countries of East Central Europe (19). One reason behind this could be that, by the standards of the region, ethnic cleansings in the Hungarian-Slovak borderland constitute “more or less a footnote to statistically larger actions” (23). Despite the dramatic events unfolding during the studied period, the territory is not part of what Timothy Snyder has called the bloodlands, as “continuous mass political violence and staggering death tolls do not accurately describe the region” (212). And yet, Waters shows excellently that the history of this small strip of land is well worth deep investigation, for two main reasons. For one, developments in the borderland were notably different from those of the inner parts of the respective country that controlled it at any given point, while at the same time it could crucially affect nation-wide policies in certain situations. Relatedly, the study of this borderland (as well as others) complicates the overall narrative of the Holocaust, and the links between territorial revisionism, population engineering, and social welfare distribution.Beyond the introduction and conclusion, the book is divided into five chronologically ordered chapters that each deal with a different geopolitical context. In the introduction, Waters explains that she “seeks to understand what the massive movement of boundaries and people meant for the Hungarian-Slovak borderland . . . by investigating the everyday consequences of geopolitical events” (1). While indeed briefly including some stories of individuals, the book focuses more on the broader developments affecting the borderland and its different communities. The result is a good balance, making the account neither too anthropological nor too narrowly focused on political history. The spatial and temporal delimitations are clear and largely legitimate. The study covers a decade of much turmoil, whereby the borderland experienced two shifts in its jurisdictional status (or three, if we count the period of German occupation separately). The borderland is defined as the longish strip of territory of about 12,000 square kilometers that was reattached to Hungary in 1938, excluding the cities of Ungvár, Munkács, and Beregszász, which the author inaccurately claims to have been administered as part of Carpathian Ruthenia during the war (4).1 But the main shortcoming of the introduction is that it accounts neither for the choice of methods and sources (including the archives visited), nor for self-positioning. This is unfortunate because the author has no reason to be modest in this regard, having both relied on archival sources and acquainted herself well with previous literature in multiple languages.Given that Waters’s book focuses on a borderland, one of the most relevant questions it needed to address was examining what made this and other borderlands unique. The author does not fail to deliver a convincing argument. Inspired by the notion of nomadic borders, she argues that locals had particularly intensive transnational experiences as the political boundary “migrated” around them (16). A related concept mentioned is that of phantom borders, which are previously existing boundaries that in certain ways and situations continue to shape social behavior. As the book well testifies, both real and phantom borders were crucial in the Hungarian-Slovak borderland. Beyond the already long list of concerns in a warlike situation, for people living near a disputed border there is the additional uncertainty of potential territorial changes. Such periods of instability can sometimes be quite long, as was the case between the Munich crisis and the return of Hungarian rule to the area studied in the book (12). Yet, as the author emphasizes, many locals were not just passive subjects but made use of their links across real and phantom borders alike to stay informed, and sometimes to stay alive.As Waters explains, the case of the Hungarian-Slovak borderland merits attention also because Hungary’s strategies to integrate it became a model for all of the country’s subsequent wartime territorial expansions (Subcarpathia, northern Transylvania, and Vojvodina). The reannexed borderlands became “zones of exception” where the normal rule of law was not always applied (20). For instance, the territory examined in the book was exempted from Jewish quotas on doctors in order to avoid a collapse of the healthcare system (83–84). This did not mean, however, that antisemitic measures were less common. On the contrary, “in an effort to retain the territories in the long term, Hungarian authorities implemented ethnic cleansings in all of the reannexed territories. Anti-Jewish policies in the borderlands were also generally more violent and implemented earlier than in other parts of the country” (20). Most notably, several towns in the northern reannexed territories became collection points for deporting Jews and, to a lesser extent, Roma (179). And among those deported to Kamenetsk-Podolsk in 1941, Jews from these areas were overrepresented (147). However, in 1942 Slovakia was persecuting its Jewish community much more vehemently than Hungary, triggering many to flee to the relative safety of the latter (131). This was made possible by the numerous connections and instances of grassroots aid across the border. Yet the national authorities had their own flow of information and tried to hinder people from crossing. Still, several thousand survived thanks to their cross-border networks and activities. After being occupied by Germany in 1944, the Hungarian state could draw on its previous experiences in the Hungarian-Slovak borderland when planning to carry out deportations across the entire country (24).The reannexation of this territory had important effects on nationwide policies in other fields as well. Because the welfare system of interwar Czechoslovakia was more generous than that of Hungary, and because the latter was eager to retain its regained areas, Hungarian social policy was expanded despite the war. To a not insignificant degree, though, this was financed by confiscating Jewish property. At the same time, Hungarian policy towards the Slovak minority was more cautious, leading the author to challenge claims that Hungary strived towards achieving an ethnically pure state during the war (18).According to Waters, “[t]he Hungarian-Slovak borderland also complicates the historiography of post-World War II Czechoslovakia, which emphasizes the overwhelming success of its ethnic cleansing campaigns against Germans” (20). After all, 84.7 percent of the area’s roughly one million inhabitants was Hungarian-speaking in 1938 (29), and their role was equated by the new Czechoslovak government to those of the Sudeten Germans (20). Accordingly, a “population exchange” was initiated by Czechoslovakia following the war: a campaign that was not only highly asymmetrical and disadvantageous to Hungary but also unparalleled, as similar programs did not occur between the latter and its other neighbors. The program was partially carried out but ended with a bilateral deal in 1949 whereby the two states renounced financial claims vis-à-vis each other, including Hungarian ones related to the “unequal nature of the population exchange” (210). According to the author, “in essence, the agreement meant that land confiscated from Czechoslovak Hungarians had been used to pay Hungary’s war reparations” (210).Waters has produced an unusually sober and multi-angled account of the history of the Hungarian-Slovak borderland in a decade that was probably more difficult than any other. An interesting element that could perhaps have been dealt with more explicitly is the question of the border’s permeability throughout that decade, although this dimension may be difficult to research. Furthermore, it is somewhat surprising that the book has no illustrations whatsoever (beyond the one on the front cover). The only images the work includes are three maps at the very beginning, on the third of which the two capitals are slightly misplaced. But the tiny imperfections noted are certainly compensated by the very lucid text, and even more so by the quality of the research presented.

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