Settlement and Cultural Assimilation in the United States, 1890-1924. Helen Kaibara .... a 'permanent' return may never happen, as evidenced by many studies.
Contents Foreword 7 1 Introduction
Return Migration/the Returning Migrant: To What, Where and Why? Michiel Baas
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2 Neither Necessity nor Nostalgia
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3 The Fluidity of Return
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4 Resident ‘Non-resident’ Indians
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5 ‘It’s Still Home Home’
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6 Looking Back while Moving Forward
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Japanese-Brazilian Transmigrants and the Multigenerational Meanings of Return Sarah LeBaron von Baeyer
Indian Student Migrants’ Transnational Ambitions and the Meaning of Australian Permanent Residency Michiel Baas
Gender, Labour and the Return to India Amy Bhatt
Notions of the Homeland for Filipina Dependent Students in Ireland Diane Sabenacio Nititham
Japanese Elites and the Prominence of ‘Home’ in Discourses of Settlement and Cultural Assimilation in the United States, 1890-1924 Helen Kaibara
7 Return of the Lost Generation?
Search for Belonging, Identity and Home among Second-Generation Viet Kieu Priscilla Koh
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8 ‘A Xu/Sou for the Students’
A Discourse Analysis of Vietnamese Student Migration to France in the Late Colonial Period Cindy A. Nguyen
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9 ‘The Bengali Can Return to His Desh but the Burmi Can’t Because He Has No Desh’ 157 Dilemmas of Desire and Belonging amongst the Burmese-Rohingya and Bangladeshi Migrants in Pakistan Nausheen H. Anwar
Contributors 179 Bibliography 183 Index 199
Foreword The seeds to compile a volume on the role and the meaning of return in the lives of migrants and transnationals were planted during a panel at the joint ICAS AAS conference held in Honolulu between March 31 and April 3, 2011. The initial aim of the panel was to revisit the ‘myth of return’ in light of the transnational turn in migration studies. We soon started discussing what ‘return’ actually means to (transnational) migrants and whether it was possible to give the ‘question of return’ a more central place in our research. The chapters in this volume all engage with what the ‘question of return’ means to (groups of) migrants and how it influences their (daily) lives and lifestyles. I would like to thank all authors for their contributions to this volume. Over the period of time it took for this volume to come out a number of other people were of crucial importance to the project. I would like to thank the following persons in particular: Barak Kalir and Nel Vandekerckhove for their involvement and inspiring input at an early stage of this project; Maureen E. Hickey, whose comments on individual chapters and the overall structure greatly benefited the volume; and Mary Lynn van Dijk and Paul van der Velde for making this publication possible with Amsterdam University Press. Finally I would like to thank the Asia Research Institute (National University of Singapore) and Nalanda University (Rajgir, India) for providing a more than inspiring and collegial environment to work on this project. Michiel Baas Asia Research Institute, National University of Singapore
1 Introduction Return Migration/the Returning Migrant: To What, Where and Why? Michiel Baas Introduction Most migrants will be intimately familiar with the question of return. The question of returning ‘home,’ to the ‘homeland,’ the ‘country of origin,’ ‘the place left behind’ is something that is intrinsically linked to the migration decision itself and how the migration trajectory ultimately is experienced. The way individuals deal with the question of ‘return’ often seems to reflect, or be in dialogue with, the reasons for leaving in the first place, ranging from the economically and/or politically motivated to more personal ones that often seem infused with socio-cultural expectations. Whether migration is permanent or temporary or something in-between – temporary at first, perhaps permanent in the long run – where one comes from, what one leaves behind, is likely to continue to influence the way the migration process is experienced even well into a ‘settled’ life elsewhere. While the question of return thus shapes and gives meaning and direction to a migration trajectory it also demands an answer not just at ‘some point’ but also at regular intervals. More than ever before ‘return’ has become a regularly ‘returning’ feature of having migrated abroad. In some cases the frequency of return has become such a regular feature of a migrant’s life that we have come to speak of a transnational lifestyle; one characterized by being ‘here’ nor ‘there,’ or maybe exactly the opposite: ‘being in both,’ maintaining social and/or business relations in one’s country of origin as well as settlement, and thus firmly rooted in multiple locations. What does ‘return’ mean to migrants? This is the central question this volume puts forward. What does ‘return’ mean for different groups of (Asian) migrants – temporary and permanent; voluntary and forced; international and internal; skilled and unskilled; and those that fall into in-between categories? How do they strategize towards, discuss, negotiate and perhaps also avoid the question? The case studies presented in this volume take a migrant-centred approach in that they examine the question from the perspective of migrants themselves. In doing so these case studies differ considerably from the majority of studies examining ‘return
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migration’ which explore the question of return mostly as a traceable and/ or predictable flow or process that requires and thus also ‘predictably’ provides clear-cut answers in terms of composition (Who returns?), factors (Why return?), duration (When did they return?), and impact (What are the consequences of return?). While these studies have clearly proven their value providing important statistical/quantitatively informed evidence of migration flows, the case studies in this volume show from the perspective of the individual or group of migrants what return actually means to them, and how it influences them in terms of giving shape and meaning to (individual) migration trajectories. In this volume, ‘return’ is primarily formulated as a question. As such it seeks to draw attention to the idea that for migrants, return is not only an actual process but also imbues what could be conceptualized as a thought process. Return is a question that connects to other questions which relate to leaving and staying, home and belonging, moving and settling. While a ‘permanent’ return may never happen, as evidenced by many studies bringing to the fore the mythology of return (e.g. Brettel 1979; WaltonRoberts 2004; Bolognani 2007), it is likely to continuously shimmer in the background one way or the other; as a possibility, something that may ‘one day’ happen, or as unavoidable, something that comes with little to no choice. The contributions to this volume are particularly interested in how the question of return is dealt with on a day-to-day basis. Yet they also explore how ideas and notions of return change, mutate and acquire different meanings over a longer period of time. However, chapters in this volume also investigate what it means to actually have returned as well as the opposite: how one deals with the knowledge that one might never be able to return. With regards to this, questioning expectations seems particularly important; not just for individuals or groups of migrants but also from the perspective of the nation-state and related ‘interest’ groups. How do individuals or groups of migrants engage with such ‘expectations’ and how do these subsequently permeate the way people deal with and/ or strategize towards return? Return, in that sense, is not just a personal choice, a desire that binds a group or an inevitability that informs daily life, it is also something that comes with specific politics and discourses that are tied to larger processes both on national and international levels. The case studies in this volume address the question of return within a regionally and temporally diverse context, ranging from Karachi (Pakistan) to Bangalore (India’s Silicon Valley) and from contemporary rural India to early-twentieth-century Vietnam. The migrants that take centre stage in these case studies are far from a homogeneous group either, including
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international students, highly skilled professionals, lowly skilled workers and refugees. By presenting such different case studies this volume brings to the fore the relevance of the question of return for different groups of migrants who find themselves in a diverse range of situations. It highlights the diversity of answers that the question of return tends to generate and as such it makes an important case for giving ‘return’ in both actual and imaginary terms a more central place in migration research.
The Problem of Non-Return and Brain Drain ‘Return’ as a question of scholarly interest in relation to migration flows, patterns and processes has known a long and winding history. In 1885 E. G. Ravenstein (1885) formulated a number of migration laws in an article for the Journal of the Statistical Society. One of these laws holds that each main current of migration produces a compensating counter-current. With this ‘law’ he was the first to draw attention to what since then has come to be referred to as simply ‘return migration.’ It cannot be argued, however, that return migration featured high on the research agenda in the decades afterwards. This is in a sense surprising considering that more recent scholarly work suggests that the numbers for returning migrants sometimes equalled or even surpassed those heading for new shores (Guarnizo 1997: 284). However, analyses of the experiences and meaning of return remained largely absent from the early literature. If a migrant ‘returned’ to his country of origin it generally made sense considering the circumstances (usually economic) and as such did not require further investigation. In this period, transatlantic migration was understood, to a large extent, as a one-way phenomenon, something imbued with a certain irrevocableness; migrants left not to return (see Gmelch 1980). Iconic images of this period, of ocean steamers filled with migrants, remaining family members and friends on the quay waving them off, certainly conjure the feeling of a ‘final goodbye.’ Naturally, such images are infused with romantic notions of loss and longing, and as such are an almost mandatory ingredient in the Great American novel and the stuff of movies. Migration being ‘permanent’ and thus ‘return’ mostly associated with economic downturn and/or failure was further informed by developments of mass urbanization at the time, leading to large-scale rural-to-urban migration, another movement mostly thought of, at the time, as one-directional (Rhoades 1979). While internal migration thus vectorially described a one-directional process from rural to urban, its international variant signified a one-way movement from underdeveloped
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(economically stagnant) countries to developing/emerging ones, invariably the US though also to a lesser extent Australia and Canada. Studies on return migration became more prominent from the 1960s onwards, in particular driven by concerns of non-returning international students and related issues or ‘expectations’ of brain drain, non-development and even the threat of communism (see Cassarino 2004: 254). Although the popularity of studying abroad started taking off from the late nineteenth century, it remained a largely elitist affair till the Second World War (Rao 1979; Ritterband 1968; Safford 1972; Singh 1963). Many former colonies gained independence and, as it was perceived in the West, were at risk of falling in the hands of communism. According to Rao (1979), Western nations approached this problem by concluding security pacts, forming military alliances and also by directly encouraging social and economic development, all with the goal of inducing political stability. The recruitment of international students who would study in the West and then return was an important aspect of such plans. It was expected that these students would ‘return home’ after completing their studies in order to aid the further development of their countries and by doing so deepen intercultural links as well. The Colombo Plan, a plan for co-operative economic development in Southeast Asia signed in 1950 after a meeting of Commonwealth Foreign Ministers, is a prime example. Basically, the plan could be divided into two separate components, one that revolved around providing economic aid, the other relating to the provision of technical assistance. In the field of economic aid, developed countries made gifts to beneficiary countries in the form of equipment and capital goods. Technical assistance, however, meant the provision of trained personnel, sometimes directly provided by developed nations but in far greater numbers this concerned ‘able young men’ who were sent to developed nations where they were trained and who would subsequently return ‘home’ to put to use what they had learnt there (see Sauer 2001; Oakman 2004). ‘Return’ was thus an indispensable element of such plans. From the 1960s onwards, however, studies start to show that ‘non-return’ was actually becoming an issue (see, for instance, Tanenhaus & Roth 1962). Charles Ritterband (1968), grappling with the problem of non-return among Israeli students in the US, argues that the likelihood of such students not returning to Israel after having completed their studies is overwhelmingly predetermined prior to arrival in the United States. Cortés (1969), writing on non-returning Filipino students, frames this in a term called ‘anchorage.’ His study shows that migration of high-level persons from the Philippines to the United States could be linked to the person’s basic attitudes towards
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the Philippines, although personal characteristics and circumstances also play a role. Cortés summarizes that persons weakly ‘anchored’ or loosely committed or attached psychologically and socially to the home country, tend to emigrate and/or not return. It is at the time of these studies that the concept of brain drain becomes more prominent, in particular with relation to the medical brain drain, triggered by an increase of foreign medical graduates, particularly from Latin America, who either migrated to the US directly after graduation or stayed on after completing their studies there (Margulies 1969). Scholarly interest in the topic of brain drain and related issues of nonreturn started to abate somewhat by the 1980s but it clearly left its mark on the way ‘return’ would be approached in the decades to come. In recent years however, with the arrival of so-called ‘talent migration’ schemes, often the direct product of specific migration programs devised by nation-states to attract the best and brightest from elsewhere to provide a solution to various skills crises, as well as the development of highly specific recruitment schemes aimed to streamline labour migration (construction, health and domestic workers, in particular), interest in the concept of ‘brain drain’ – and related terminology such as ‘brain gain’ and ‘brain waste’ – has been reawakened. Ronald Skeldon (2009: 3), zooming in on the case of health workers, for instance, argues that the debate on brain drain has ‘taken on greater urgency in the context of a globalizing economy and ageing societies.’ Recent studies, for instance, have investigated the reverse flow of technologies/knowledge as well as the motivations and considerations of highly skilled professionals and scientists to return (see for China, Zweig, Chung and Vanhonacker 2006; for Africa, Logan 2009; and for the UK and India, Harvey 2009). In that sense these more recent studies built directly on the concerns that informed earlier mentioned ‘brain drain’ studies and as such ‘making sense’ of (non-) return remains an important question throughout.
Making Sense of Return Migration: Push and Pull Factors In very general terms it can be argued that when it comes to ‘return migration’ scholars were and continue to be mainly interested in two interlinked questions: what are the reasons for return, and what impact (socially, economically, politically) do migrants have once they return? Such questions are directly informed by a neoclassical approach to migration in which push-and-pull-related factors feature prominently. Within
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these approaches, migration needs to be, and in fact can be, explained in rational terms; and thus, naturally, the same is assumed to hold up for what motivates or triggers an eventual return. While a decision to migrate often seems influenced by negative factors at home (pushing the migrant across the border) and positive ones pulling a migrant abroad, the reverse is assumed to hold up for ‘return.’ It is perhaps not surprising that ‘failure’ in various ways and forms (to make it, to adapt, etc.) seems to permeate many studies. An influential article in this regard is Francesco P. Cerase’s (1974: 249-251), in which he discusses four types of (Italian) return migration from the Unites States. The first is the most commonly encountered in other studies of return migration as well; it concerns ‘return of failure.’ Cerase laments on those – a minority – who fail in their attempt to make it in the US, and who start thinking ‘sadly’ of returning, especially when they still have a family and a home to return to. ‘What remains of their experience in the new society is a sense of suffering, fear, and abandonment, mixed with the memory of “marvels,” incomprehensible “great things,” seen through amazed eyes’ (Cerase 1974: 249). But return can also be a matter of conservatism, he argues. At some point a migrant will have to make a decision where to spend his hard-earned money: in the country of settlement, increasingly separating him from home conditions or towards a better life once he returns home. The third form of return (‘the return of innovation’) Cerase discusses is somewhat related to this dilemma. It involves migrants who are unwilling or unable to fulfil their position in the new society. Reasons may be myriad, but Cerase notes that generally these migrants start subsequently detaching themselves from their host society and at some point thoughts of returning ‘home’ become more prominent. ‘[T]he immigrant sees in his return home the possibility of a greater satisfaction of his needs and aspirations’ (Cerase 1974: 251). But Cerase makes a point to note that aspirations to return home are different from the intentions the migrant had departed for the US with; it is the experience abroad itself that has influenced this. The final ‘return’ is one of retirement. The combination of getting older with other dissatisfactions in the host country can cause real suffering making a return home inevitable at some point. ‘That desire for a piece of land returns now in the image of a comfortable house, perhaps with a garden, where he can quietly spend his old age’ (ibid.). The Italian migrants Cerase studies hailed mostly from the rural parts of Italy, at the time ‘on record as a country of emigration’ (ibid.: 245). Although migration was no longer thought of as a once-and-for-all decision, returning home was certainly no easy decision as it was by nature almost always a permanent one.
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In subsequent years studies would frequently point out that although migrants often discuss a possible return, perhaps with the kind of savings and related increased status Cerase also alludes to, actually returning home is rarely anticipated. This would be captured in the infamous ‘myth of return’ or the lesser known ‘ideology of return’ (Anwar 1979; Brettel 1979; Rubenstein 1979; Schierup 1990; Walton-Roberts 2004; Bolognani 2007; Sinatti 2011; see also Guarnizo 1997: 286), evoking a certain melancholic longing and sadness, only marginally compensated for by a submergence in the local diaspora, providing a home away from home where old traditions – sometimes long out of fashion in the homeland – continue to live a vibrant though slightly essentialized life. In relation to this ‘myth’ or ‘ideology’ of return it is interesting to note the many studies that have attempted to predict the statistical likelihood of migrants’ return over the years. The number of articles delivering impressive calculations, building upon complex statistical and mathematical formulations, the product of household and other kinds of questionnaires, datasets and related sources of quantitative material, far exceeds articles taking a qualitative and/or historical approach (see for instance: Fangmeng & Zhongdong 2006; Falkingham et al. 2012; Martin & Radu 2012; Lianos & Pseiridis 2013). In such calculations migration is often reduced to a simplified mathematical equation in which mostly rational and logical factors determine the outcome. The ‘income variable’ is said to play an important role in return migration since ‘[t]he proportion of return migrants is likely to vary negatively with the state of the labor market’ (Vanderkamp 1971: 1013). However, analyses of ‘optimal migration duration’ through statistical models are also able to argue that migrants do return home despite continuously increasing wages in the host country (Dustmann 2003: 353). Another variable that is argued to play a key role in predicting or understanding return migration is ‘savings.’ In regards to this it is frequently noted that migrants, in particularly temporary ones, save more than native-born ones, possibly with the intention to invest in the home country or to support family members (Galor & Stark 1990; Dustmann 1997: 295-296). Savings are also recurrently analyzed in terms of return migrants’ entrepreneurialism especially with an eye on the probability of these returnees contributing positively to the development of their countries (see for instance Diatta & Mbow 1999 for Senegal; McCormick & Wahba 2003 for Egypt). Employability is another factor often added to the statistical mix. Lindstrom, for instance, argues that migrants from economically dynamic areas in Mexico are less likely to return since opportunities for employment and small-scale investments are comparably better than in economically
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stagnant areas where savings can be less productively used. As a reason migrants coming from economically stagnant regions are less likely ‘to withstand the psychic costs of separation from family and friends than do migrants from economically stagnant areas in Mexico’ (Lindstrom 1996: 357). Zhao shows that in the case of rural China, which has experienced substantial outmigration, return migration is of limited scale but that return migrants invest significantly more in productive farm assets yet are no more likely to engage in local nonfarm activities than, for instance, non-migrants (2002: 376). With regards to Eastern and Central European countries Martin and Radu argue that expected labour market opportunities along with community ties, discounted costs of resettlement, and the eligibility to benefits in both the home and the host country are stronger predictors of return than actual financial incentives and other government programs that are aimed to attract returnees (2012: 125). Age, children, and other family members are also weighted into various analyses. In a study which compares Switzerland, Germany and France it is argued that the propensity to return increases with the age of entry but decreases with the number of years of residence, the latter a result of strong assimilation in the host country (Dustmann 1996: 214, 240). Concern about children back in the home country also affects the likelihood of return but the role of gender is likely to play a role in this. ‘[C]oncerns about detrimental, or beneficial effects of remaining in the host country on the child’s future welfare may differ according to whether the child is a boy or girl’ (Dustmann 2003: 816). In an article dealing with migratory flows between Tonga, Papua New Guinea and New Zealand it is, however, argued with respect to these countries that return migration is actually less strongly linked to income opportunities than to family and lifestyle reasons (Gibson & McKenzie 2011: 18). While these studies reach important conclusions, they also have serious shortcomings, which will be addressed in the next section (and in this volume as a whole).
Practicalities Aside: Towards a More Inclusive Perspective This volume argues for an inclusive and integrated approach towards (return) migration that not only draws upon existing theory and methodology but also dares to think beyond existing paradigms especially where it concerns explaining ‘return.’ It is useful to briefly revisit an influential article by Cassarino (2004) here in which he posits that (return) migration has basically been subjected to four different kinds of approaches. The neo-
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classical approach views migrants mainly in terms of profit maximization, the migration decision clearly influenced by push-and-pull factors and thus as a result making sense. Return is mainly a matter of failure in financial sense, something the second approach, New Economics of Labour Migration, clearly differs on as it views ‘return’ as the logical and thus expected outcome of a calculated strategy. Return is thus most of all a matter of success (see Constant & Massey 2002). However, Cassarino also points out that the success/failure paradigm that was central to the studies discussed earlier cannot fully explain return migration. The structural approach is helpful here. Referring also to Cerase’s article on Italian return migration to the US, Cassarino holds that whatever returnees expected to get out of their return, local realities and traditional vested interests in countries of origin often stand in the way of innovative capacities. A structural approach thus lays bare limiting contextual factors standing in the way of migrants’ successes. At the same time such a proposition clearly harks back to the core versus periphery dichotomies that understand migration typically as a flow from traditional and underdeveloped nations to modern, developed ones. Problematic of course, is that as a result it assumes a model where there is little communication, knowledge or socio-cultural influence between the two worlds.1 At the time of Cerase’s study such a model might have had some merit – though scholars have also criticized this assumption – but faced with ongoing globalizing influences the structural model makes increasingly little sense. The fourth ‘transnational’ approach is clearly an improvement here, as it assumes the migration story to continue. Guarnizo argues in this regard that being a transnational, ‘implies becoming habituated to living more or less comfortably in a world that encompasses more than one national structure of institutional and power arrangements, social understandings, and dominant political and public cultures’ (Guarnizo 1997: 310). Cassarino mentions social network theory as a final approach, one that ‘views returnees as being the bearers of tangible and intangible resources’ (2004: 264). Return migrants are social actors involved in what Cassarino phrases as ‘a set of relational ramifications’ (ibid.). An analysis of how migrants are members of networks and thus also how they operate in the context of such networks might shed light on the multiple involvements and the way this influences their behaviour. Additionally it is likely that different network structures produce different opportunities (depending 1 Cassarino refers here specifically to Rachel Murphy (2002), a fierce opponent of the structural model.
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on the context) with different orientations and strategies as a consequence. While Cassarino seems particularly taken by the final, network-oriented approach, it needs to be noted that some more recent research – including my own (2010) – indicates the absence of clear networks making migration an increasingly ‘individual’ affair. Networks that do play a role are often commercial operations functioning strictly on a paid-for and profit-oriented basis. This is not to argue against Cassarino’s network-oriented focus but such considerations do underline the call for a more integrative perspective on return migration itself. It is crucial that such an approach works beyond the need to explain and/or predict (return) migration yet clearly draws from the perspectives discussed above in order to capture how migrants engage with the question of return and how they give shape and meaning to ‘return’ trajectories. In relation to this it seems particularly important to examine critically the bifurcation between temporary and permanent migration and the expectations from the perspective of the state as formulated in policy documents and related analyses (see Gmelch 1980; Dustmann 1997; Guarnizo 1997; Dustmann & Weiss 2007). Whereas it has been argued that the bipolar model (permanent versus temporary migration), as Guarnizo (1997: 289) puts it, simply won’t do when examining transnational processes, a question rarely engaged in is the permanency or temporariness of transnationalism itself. Although studies often present transnational lifestyles as the follow-up phase of migration trajectories, the question remains for how long migrants/transnationals intend or imagine living such ‘lives.’ And with regards to this it should be noted that, as Gmelch already did 30 years ago, migrants often simply do not have definite plans. Instead they go on a trial basis and let their decisions (to return, continue, etc.) be guided by opportunities in the host country (1980: 138). As the contributions to this volume show, ‘return’ is imbued with meaning that goes well beyond what statistical models, structural approaches, or even a focus on the complexity of networks can lay bare. Emotional processes clearly plan an important role in this (see Holmes & Burrows 2012; Svašek 2012; Teo 2011) but brought in as a factor has a tendency of introducing a certain ‘murkiness’ which typically tends to stand in the way of a rational analysis of migrants’ intentions. The integrated approach towards (return) migration that this volume calls for should by definition be one that is open to the idea of migration as ‘murky.’ As such we need to start thinking of migration as a process, not simply as one that travels in a unilinear direction, halting briefly at a preset number of staging posts and then moving forward as intended, but also as one that is allowed to meander, be fluid, to veer of course and to behave, in a sense, irrationally, outside
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the parameters of clearly definable (push-and-pull) factors. This thus also means that we should not only focus on migrants’ agency in migration decisions and trajectories but also to allow for this agency to be irrational, illogical, bipolar even. Our methodology should be open to this; only then can we capture what (return) migration means on an individual level in an increasingly (transnationally) mobile world where once-and-for-all decisions are never quite that anymore.
Return Migration and This Volume In this volume we consider ‘return migration’ as a shorthand for a variety of terms that in essence deal with the same phenomenon: migrants returning to where they (initially) came from. Such terms include those that Gmelch already catalogued more than 30 years ago ranging from reflux migration, homeward migration and remigration to return flow, second-time migration, repatriation, retromigration, and circular migration (1980: 36). However, more recent terms such as transmigration, transnationalism, or even (transnational) mobility could be thought of as sharing a similar narrative of return as well (see Sinatti 2011). Taking this into consideration, the contributors in this volume stress that the finality that once imbued the way ‘return’ was approached is something that is central to their reexamination of what return migration actually entails. We argue that the ‘transnational turn’ in studies of migration in that sense not only proves relevant for recent cases of (transnational) migration but that it also opens up scope to re-examine or reinterpret historical cases of migration in terms of the way these migrants experienced and gave shape and meaning to their own migration trajectories. Terms like temporary migration and permanent migration which habitually divided migration into two neatly separate realms in the past, especially where it concerned the question of return, are now up for discussion in terms of the way migrants themselves juggle(d) with, negotiate(d) and perceive(d) these terms. The same goes for dividers such as voluntary and forced, economic and political, and internal and international migration (see Ma 2002; Wang & Fan 2006; King & Skeldon 2010). When it comes to ‘return,’ what needs to be at the forefront of the discussion is that return is often a highly personal, individual decision and that the compartmentalization into artificially created subfields obfuscates a muddling but exceptionally interesting overlap that brings us much closer to an understanding of the way migrants engage with their own migration trajectories.
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This volume builds upon the above and presents a variety of papers dealing specifically with the ‘return’ of migrants to countries in Asia. The chapters are not ordered based on overlapping themes but follow each other in such a way that the diversity, fluidity and complexity of ‘return’ gets highlighted. In that sense the chapters follow a certain thought process with the aim of showcasing not just the many different ways that migrants and related actors and bodies deal with the question of ‘return’ but also to provide an open-ended discussion that aims to encourage further research that builds upon the findings and ideas presented in these chapters. The first case study explores three different threads of return for Brazilians of Japanese descent which, as Sara LeBaron von Bayer shows, weave into the broader tapestry of transmigration that currently exists between Brazil and Japan. According to LeBaron von Bayer, up until now, scholarly focus has mainly been on the experiences of so-called Nikkei-Brazilians either in Brazil or in Japan. Her research, however, engages with experiences of return and/or back-and-forth movement to Brazil, and the way different generations of Nikkei-Brazilians negotiate their positioning between home and host society. She argues that what unites different generations of socalled Nikkei-Brazilians in a transnational field is their desire to be global, mobile and flexible citizens. Return means different things to different generations of Nikkei-Brazilians, and as such, rarely signifies a final arrival or stopping point in people’s life trajectories. While return often channels Nikkei-Brazilians’ lives, it is not so much in the forefront of people’s minds as much as the desire to move flexibly across borders in ways usually reserved for a more mobile, global elite. Finally for Nikkei-Brazilians of all generations, return often means ‘What next?’ as well as ‘Where to?’ In the following chapter Michiel Baas makes a comparable case for Indian student migrants in Australia. Although the prevalence of application for permanent residency (PR) after graduation is relatively high, actually permanently staying in Australia is often not the objective. Instead a PR is imagined to facilitate transnational mobility. By taking a long-term perspective on the cases of a number of Indian student migrants, Baas is able to examine the ambivalences and less-than-straightforwardness that comes with the trajectory from student to migrant. As a result Baas critically examines the study of migration’s engagement with the agency of its would-be-migrants and the assumptions and expectations that inform and infuse skilled migration programs. While Indian student migrants enter Australia as ‘temporary migrants’ they often do so with the ambition to become ‘permanent’ ones; however, this ‘permanency’ is layered with temporariness in that an Australian PR actually facilitates ‘temporary’
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stays in both Australia as well as India. ‘Return’ thus also takes on a double meaning; ‘return’ refers to the option to return to India (either temporarily or permanently) yet also to the freedom of returning to Australia at any time. Highly skilled migration is also the topic of investigation in Amy Bhatt’s contribution on the way Indian IT workers fashion themselves as circulating subjects beyond would-be citizens or immigrants living in diaspora. Bhatt draws attention to the way return migration is a gendered phenomenon that impacts not only workers but also their family members. In particular she looks at the effects of return migration on the women that accompany IT workers as they travel between India’s largest cities and locations in the West. A question she puts at the centre of her analysis is how return to India impacts gender roles and social relationships. And by doing so, she asks: is this truly ‘return migration’ or are new patterns of transnational movement and community formation emerging? Building upon fieldwork in Seattle and Bangalore from 2008-2010, she demonstrates that the pathway to reintegration in India is often far from smooth and that it has a differential impact on women compared to men. She furthermore points out that while return migration boosts Indian economic development, patriarchal gender roles, expectations regarding taking care of (often complex) households, as well as a ‘reverse culture shock’ complicates women’s reintegration into India. As such Bhatt raises the question whether ‘return’ is truly possible, ‘particularly as geographically disperse modes of work, family life, and the pursuit of opportunity overtake the material and symbolic importance of geographic or national ties (p. 56).’ Return takes on a rather different meaning in the next chapter in which Diane Nititham examines the experiences of Filipinas who have come to Ireland as dependent students but who have faced complications in ‘staying on’ afterwards. Nititham examines the liminal position of two Filipinas in order to come to a deeper analysis of notions of return and the intersections of everyday experiences, which are engendered by social policy and the dynamics of migration. For these Filipinas, the meaning of home is not necessarily rational or consistent; in fact home does not even denote one specific space or place. Instead, home signifies a complicated landscape that exists in many spaces and has different faces. It is a place of comfort as well as conflict that cannot produce a singular experience. Nititham argues that people use their orientations in order to feel at home and although this home can have many locations it is not to be said that her informants are without roots. Yet, she adds that whether ‘home’ is envisaged as rooted in the country of origin or destination or as having one’s family nearby, or having constant
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comfort, home is fleeting, always remaining out of reach. She stresses that striving for a sense of home ‘should not be seen as a binary of being “fully at home” on one end and feeling “complete dislocation/alienation” at the other, but rather as a continuum, where multiple circumstances affect how one experiences life.’ Helen Kaibara’s exploration of the case of early-twentieth-century Japanese migration to the US reveals that ‘return’ to Japan was in fact discouraged and Japanese migrants were highly encouraged to treat the US as their ‘new home.’ The Japanese Association of America’s (JAA), appalled by the treatment of fellow Japanese countrymen in the US, believed that altering the behaviour of Japanese migrants, pushing for cultural assimilation, curbing ‘immoral behaviour’ and advocating permanent settlement could aide towards improving the image and welfare of this group. Kaibara argues that this was less about a genuine desire to become ‘good Americans’ or to deal with ‘yellow peril’ sentiments and much more out of reverence for the homeland itself. The study draws attention to the complexities informing ideas of return (in this particular case, a desired non-return) and by adhering to this by paying homage and reverence to the homeland. While return was not a ‘desired’ option for Japanese migrants in the early twentieth century, Pris Koh’s study highlights the ‘desire to return’ of second-generation Viet Kieu or overseas Vietnamese. Following the communist takeover of South Vietnam in 1975, they left Vietnam as children, but are now planning to ‘return’ to a country still governed by the political regime their parents once fled. Their motivations for ‘returning’ to Vietnam are not only multifaceted, but also mutually related and reinforcing, as Pris Koh elegantly demonstrates. Issues of alienation and marginalization foster a need for Viet Kieu to create, as Koh puts it, webs of belonging that produce a fragile sense of belonging. This sees itself counteracted upon return to the ‘parental’ homeland, which enables Viet Kieu to come to terms with their past and their conflicted identities. However, Koh stresses that ‘return’ does not necessarily need to constitute an end of the migration cycle itself. ‘In the view of individuals who have multistranded ties and networks in different national settings and cultural communities, the migration story likely continues (p. 133).’ The idea of home also plays an important role in Cindy Nguyen’s chapter, which zooms in on Vietnamese student migration from 1900 to the end of the 1930s. The complex social and ideological pressures these youth faced, caught in a transnational, colonial relationship of personal belonging, revolve around the question and meaning of return. Nguyen is particularly interested in the physical and emotional experience and representation
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of this group, both at home and abroad. Her chapter considers ‘how the discourse of “the student” was shaped both by the obligation to return to Vietnam and the students’ rejection of that cultural world.’ Nguyen demonstrates how shifting dimensions of the home (familial as well as national) relates to the symbolic power and responsibility carried by young educated Vietnamese. The limited options to pursue studies in the homeland at the time meant that the opportunity to study in France was layered with notions of empowerment both for the individual as well as the community. Carefully examining the experiences and related discourses of Vietnamese student migrants, Nguyen brings to the fore ‘the intricate ideological and emotional interrelationships of students and their sending communities, relationships that are constructed, rejected, and reinscribed against the socio-cultural changes of early-twentieth-century colonial Vietnam (p. 155).’ In the final chapter Nausheen Anwar delves into the question of a (forced) return to a land which may not necessarily be considered home anymore. Through the narratives of two groups, Burmese-Rohingya refugees and Bangladeshi immigrants, Anwar attempts to understand these migrants’ ambivalence about belonging and aspirations to return. Both groups discussed share common cultural characteristics, reside mainly in Karachi and arrived with about ten years of each other (the Burmese-Rohingyas in the late 1960s and the Bangladeshis in the late 1970s). For these undocumented populations, recent shifts in the norms for Pakistani citizenship have had considerable consequences. While Anwar acknowledges that there are major differences between immigrants and refugees displaced by political crises, research has shown that both interpret their stay ‘abroad’ in terms of it being temporary. However, especially for the Burmese-Rohingyas, the idea of ‘return’ to Burma is not only no longer possible but also not desirable. As Anwar argues: ‘for them the idea of return can only exist in the imagination and be idealized from a distance (p. 176).’
