While reaction ruled, Germany was in the midst of rapid industrialization, urbanization, and overall modernization, and the Jews were often considered as prime agents of this development. However, a close look discloses Jewish communities living mainly in small towns, working in local commerce and in traditional branches of industry. Still, it seems that they were moving forward more quickly than others, more easily accepting change, enjoying more favorable demographic trends, and quickly improving their educational level. As a typical example, the chapter presents a sketch of one family history, that of the Liebermanns, who held on to their commercial interests in cotton and silk, but then slowly expanded to become larger-scale industrial entrepreneurs, centered in Berlin and later in Silesia too, gradually moving to more modern and more large-scale production sectors. On the whole, the Jewish way of modernization added one more route to the multiple varieties of such routes in Germany. Through their unique perspective, the various possibilities of moving towards modernity are more easily perceived, enriching the overall picture of this process as a whole, especially in Germany.

Modernist art music of the interwar period takes its place among other early Australian musical modernisms. It developed within an antipodean modernity transformed by new technologies of transport and communication. Mobility – the movement of people, scores, print journalism and recordings – is central here. Using a conceptual framework informed by transnational historical approaches and expanded understandings of the unsettled and contested concept of modernism, this chapter provides a more generous reading of this musical moment long obscured by the concerns and anxieties of a young nation negotiating its complicated ties to Britain and continental Europe while searching for a distinctive culture. After tracing the emergence of a modernist musical discourse in Australia’s popular press, this chapter looks at the output of a group of composers and various forms of modernist musicking to reveal a transnational community of Australian musicians who actively participated in what can be understood as a modernist music world.

In response to some critics of contemporary Irish culture who have lamented the loss of Irish cultural distinctiveness, particularly in language use, this chapter draws on research in the sociolinguistics of globalization to argue for an alternative method of reading language in fiction. Rather than focusing exclusively on fixed language identities, it suggests a method of reading for the modes and values of expression that are produced by linguistic mobility, neoliberalism, and technology. The chapter considers this changing status of language as it appears in Sally Rooney’s Conversations with Friends and Naoise Dolan’s Exciting Times, including the ways in which economic globalization has prioritized language as a skill and a commodity while reinventing its function through technology. The chapter argues that Rooney’s and Dolan’s novels dramatize the shift from a fixed language identity to a global one based on the idea of linguistic resources in a way that leaves their characters in ambivalent relationships to Irishness, the English language, and globalization.

Migration destabilized family life, gender, and sexuality. Whereas most Turkish guest workers traveled alone during the formal recruitment period (1961–1973), West Germany’s subsequent policy of family reunification sparked the increased migration of spouses and children. This chapter shows that, although migrants developed strategies to maintain connections to home, separation anxieties and fears of abandonment loomed. The departure of able-bodied young workers strained local economies, upended gender roles, and separated loved ones, sparking tensions at home: were guest workers sending enough money home, communicating enough, and remaining faithful to spouses? In Germany, reports about sex between male guest workers and German women fueled Orientalist tropes about “foreigners,” perpetuated stereotypes about Turkish men’s propensity toward violence, and stoked fears about the transgression of national and racial borders. Women left behind worried that their husbands would commit adultery while abroad. Guest workers’ children were viewed simultaneously as victims and threats: some stayed behind in Turkey, others were brought to Germany, and thousands of “suitcase children” (Kofferkinder) repeatedly moved back and forth between the two countries with their bags perpetually packed. As physical estrangement evolved into emotional estrangement, the perceived abandonment of the family came to represent the abandonment of the nation.

The book begins in the Turkish beach town of Şarköy, home to a community of first- and second-generation return migrants who were interviewed for this book. These returnees are just some of the millions of people who have journeyed back and forth between Turkey and Germany for over 60 years. The introduction lays out the book’s four core arguments, which together reveal that Turkish-German migration history is far more dynamic than typically told. First, return migration was not an illusion or unrealized dream but rather a core component of all migrants’ lives, and migration was not a one-directional event but rather a transnational process of reciprocal exchange that fundamentally reshaped both countries’ politics, societies, economies, and cultures. Second, migration introduced new ambivalence into European identities: although Germans assailed Turks’ alleged inability to integrate, they had integrated enough to be criticized in Turkey as “Germanized Turks” (Almancı). Third, examining West German efforts to “kick out” the Turks in the 1980s exposes the reality of racism in the liberal, democratic Federal Republic of Germany. Finally, including Muslims and Turks in European history expands our idea of what “Europe” is and who “Europeans” are.

The chapter outlines the mid-twentieth century debate over an Athenian-Boeotian divide in Australian literature, which extended an earlier false dichotomy between city and the bush through distinguishing between the expatriate and the writer who stays at home. Despite a global dispersion of Australian writers, it argues that most scholarship has tended to focus on those in Britain. The chapter discerns that the racialisation underscoring who is generally considered ‘expatriate’ renders the term problematic and that many Australian diasporic poets define themselves through other means. It also finds that many experience feelings of shame, anger, and guilt over the colonial violence shaping Australia. The chapter considers the development of Lola Ridge’s poetics while in Australia before considering Oodgeroo Noonuccal’s poem “Yussef (Hi-Jack),” written during a hijacking of her plane by Palestinian militants, and the poetry Oodgeroo wrote in China. The chapter foregrounds the significance of First Nations mobility, engaging with the London writing of Aboriginal activist A. M. Fernando in the 1920s and writing of recent poets like Ellen Van Neerven.

Music historiography has traditionally been based on ‘methodological nationalism’, the assumption that the nation state is the ‘natural’ context of analysis. As a result, migration tends to be treated as an exception to the rule of nationhood with its comforting myths of belonging and tradition. By contrast, this chapter argues that modernist music can be regarded as the music of exile. It focuses on the ‘normality of migration’, encompassing both forced and voluntary migration, and it covers areas such as the role of international composition teachers and the ‘dodecaphonic diaspora’, the way serialism came to be associated with resistance to fascism and migration. In addition to presenting individual case studies, it seeks to quantify the commonality of migration, using the composers performed at the Annual Festivals of the International Society of Contemporary Music (ISCM), as a statistical basis. What this demonstrates is that, although mobility may not be the norm, neither is it an exception. Furthermore, it is one of the ways in which the transnational network that is integral to musical modernism has come into being.

This chapter introduces the essay collection Mobility and Coercion in an Age of Wars and Revolutions: A Global History, c. 1750 – 1830. It argues that the history of exclusion and forced removal must be put center stage in order to understand the era often described as the cradle of political modernity. The collection argues against a dichotomy between free and unfree mobility, rather regarding them as points on a continuum of varying degrees of coercion. It emphasizes both the circular and multidirectional nature of human mobility across the planet and the counterforces that kept people in place. It draws together hitherto separated scholarship on the mobilities of enslaved individuals, convicts, soldiers and war prisoners, refugees, and displaced Indigenous communities. The result is a set of entangled histories that together break down assumptions about geographies and chronologies, and interrogate the dynamic interplay between systems of forced removal and the individuals who negotiated them.

The archives of modern European colonialism are preoccupied with sex. Desire, with its contexts and consequences, presented colonial authorities with opportunities and motive for the exercise of power. Yet the gamut of sexual practices they sought to regulate bore a tenuous relationship to the messy intimacies of lived experience. Those worlds of desire, repugnance, accommodation, and resistance remain beyond our reach. Historians have employed various methodologies to tackle the complexities and silences of the colonial archive. Some have striven to find dissenting, variant or “hidden” voices within bureaucratic records. Some have sought traces of fantasy, desire, and subjective experience in personal writings or works of creative imagination. Some have shown how the fashioning of the archive itself is implicated in the production of both desire and desiring subjects. Arguing that we learn most about colonial sexuality when we allow for multiple possibilities, this chapter presents and describes some of the more influential lenses historians have brought to bear upon their elusive subject: those of erotics, regulation, intimacy, mobility, and violence. While these do not exhaust the possibilities of understanding colonial sexuality, when taken together they reveal how entwined was the emergence of modern sexual mores with colonialism”s history.

By looking at the impact of migration within Britain and concentrating on the industrial workplace in Luton, this chapter shows how different forms of mobility within ‘working-class culture’ were consonant with the enduring salience of stories about historical hardships drawn from early life. It explores how, even as the Labour Party shied away from discussing the inter-war Depression, many manual and non-manual workers still spoke about politics in these older terms. However, remarkably similar stories about unemployment and the Depression before the war could also feed into Conservative support. The chapter closes with a discussion of attitudes towards immigration and the welfare state.

This chapter opens up a fuller discussion of how sites of socialisation outside the family reworked the meaning of stories about the past. Looking at Huddersfield, it focuses on the consequences of selective grammar schooling for disrupting ‘traditional’ attachments to working-class cultures of politics, shifting people’s class- and place-based identities and weakening the political status of memory. It explores these issues from the perspectives of both socially mobile grammar school leavers and their parents left in Huddersfield. It also highlights cases in which parents and their children concurred about these issues.