Ursula Waser is one of around 600 victims who were wrenched from their families by the “Kinder der Landstrasse” charity organisation.
Ursula Waser is one of around 600 victims who were wrenched from their families by the “Kinder der Landstrasse” charity organisation. Photo: Mario Delfino

A child of the “Landstrasse”

For 18 years Ursula Waser was passed from pillar to post, through a succession of homes. Contact with her mother was forbidden and she wasn’t permitted to make any of her own decisions. The story of a child of the Landstrasse...

Andrej Abplanalp

Andrej Abplanalp

Historian and communications chief of the Swiss National Museum.

Ursula Waser had a tough start in life. The girl was born out of wedlock in Rüti (Zurich canton) in 1952. The fact that her mother was Yenish didn’t make her life any easier. It was soon felt in official quarters that, “for her own good”, the little girl should not be left to grow up with her family and should not stay with her mother. So it came about that at just six months old, little Ursula Kollegger (her maiden name) was wrenched from her family by the police and put in a children’s home. This marked the beginning of an almost endless, agonising journey through a total of 20 homes. There were also four brief stays with foster families. It wasn’t until 1971, after 26 placements in a total of 8 cantons, that Ursula Waser was allowed to take the first small steps towards independence.
Separated from her family: the only Firmgotte (“godmother”, after a child’s confirmation) who could be found for Ursula was a sister of the Seraphisches Liebeswerk Solothurn, 1961.
Separated from her family: the only Firmgotte (“godmother”, after a child’s confirmation) who could be found for Ursula was a sister of the Seraphisches Liebeswerk Solothurn, 1961. Private collection Ursula Waser
But was it really life that was so unkind to Ursula Waser and about 600 other Yenish children? Or was it, in fact, three little articles in Switzerland’s 1912 Civil Code, the Zivilgesetzbuch (ZGB), and a children’s charity? ZGB articles 283 to 285 regulated public intervention in family law. The relevant passages read: “If a child’s physical or mental well-being is persistently at risk, or if the child is neglected, the guardianship authority shall remove the child from its parents’ care and within reasonable bounds place it in a family or institution.” In 1926, the Pro Juventute foundation launched an aid organisation under the name “Kinder der Landstrasse” (Children of the Road), which took traveller children from their families and placed them in homes or with foster families. These children were to be raised to be “useful members” of society. In the view of the state and the Pro Juventute foundation, this would never happen in the Yenish environment. Parental authority could therefore be withdrawn using the provisions of the Civil Code.
1972 TV report on the “Kinder der Landstrasse” campaign (in German). SRF
Under the direction of Alfred Siegfried, founder of the charity and a member of the Pro Juventute central secretariat, this policy was rigorously enforced. A former Gymnasium teacher, in a 1943 lecture he delivered in Zurich Siegfried justified this position as follows: “If you hope to win the battle against vagrancy, you must endeavour to break up the bands of travelling people.” By “break up” he was referring to the unhesitating removal of the children, because Siegfried saw no possibility “for improvement” for these youngsters among the adults of their own kind. The fact that Alfred Siegfried, though convicted of indecent behaviour with a school child in 1924, was head of the “Abteilung Schulkind” (Schoolchildren division) at Pro Juventute from 1927 onwards is nothing short of grotesque. But his work, especially his actions against Yenish families, wouldn’t have been possible without broad-based public support. Alfred Siegfried had the backing of various authorities, Pro Juventute, and a number of organisations and patrons – groups which thus facilitated his activities. He continued to be active in the field even after retiring, publishing a book “Kinder der Landstrasse” (Children of the Road).
Alfred Siegfried, head of the “Kinder der Landstrasse” charity organisation, out and about with three little boys, 1953.
Alfred Siegfried, head of the “Kinder der Landstrasse” charity organisation, out and about with three little boys, 1953. Keystone / Fotostiftung Schweiz
Siegfried checking the teeth of a Yenish girl, 1953.
Siegfried checking the teeth of a Yenish girl, 1953. Keystone / Fotostiftung Schweiz
For Ursula Waser, Siegfried’s desire to break up Yenish families meant no sign of life from her mother, no contact with her family. The little girl had no way of knowing that a ban on visits and contact prohibited her relatives from having anything to do with her. Her attempts to find her mother had painful consequences. “For a long time she kept trying to sneak away from us, and we told ourselves that it was in her blood, because we had to be quite strict until it stopped”, the children’s home La Margna from Celerina (Graubünden) wrote to Alfred Siegfried in September 1955. At some point, Ursula Waser simply accepted her fate: “I thought everyone had abandoned me.” The child’s resigned air was also noticed by the Home’s management. However, their interpretation of her attitude was quite different, as a brief report to Siegfried in 1957 shows: “Every now and then she needs a firm hand, but in general she doesn’t cause me any more disciplinary problems than other children of her age.”

Care and coercion

The state has always intervened in the lives of people who were poor or did not conform to social norms. Until the 1980s, several hundred thousand children and adults were taken into care or placed in detention. Adoptions, sterilisations, forced abortions, and drug trials were performed without the knowledge or consent of those involved. Human rights were frequently ignored.
There was no end to the suffering. Over the years Ursula Waser did make contact with her mother again, even living with her at times, but the familial relations could hardly be described as affectionate. The now 13-year-old was raped by her uncle and her stepfather. As a result the girl’s mother threw her out, and in 1966 Ursula was placed in a secure reform school, “Zum Guten Hirten” in Altstätten, St Gallen canton.
Pro Juventute files on Ursula Kollegger.
Pro Juventute files on Ursula Kollegger. Private collection Ursula Waser
Before Ursula Waser was finally allowed, in 1971, to start making decisions about her own life, she had to complete a course of vocational training. This was a condition for her release from the institution. If she had failed the training, her residence would have been extended. To this day, Ursula Waser and tens of thousands of people affected by compulsory welfare measures are having to live with the fact that the state and society treated them very shabbily. Although the country and those involved began some time ago to work through this inglorious chapter in Switzerland’s history, new cases and sad details are still coming to light. Ursula Waser has worked tirelessly for decades to make sure the role of the country’s judiciary is also examined. And to do that, she keeps on digging into her own painful past.

Our faces – Our stories

The multimedia online platform Our faces – Our stories looks at the lives of people who have experienced compulsory welfare measures and forced placement in foster care, and their family circle. The platform makes a crucial chapter in contemporary Swiss history digitally accessible in a new way. Uschi Waser and 31 other direct victims of these policies, their partners and children, as well as people from the professional environment, talk about their experiences from 1947 to the present day. They talk about what happened. They name those responsible and the reasons for their treatment. They reveal the consequences with which they are still living today. The people affected also tell how they found the strength to go on living despite everything – and how they’ve fared with rebuilding their lives. The online platform places the experiences in their historical context, and paints a nuanced picture of compulsory welfare measures and forced foster placement. For Our faces – Our stories, victims have worked together with historians.  

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