A newspaper by refugees for refugees

Towards the end of the Second World War, a newspaper was published in Switzerland that was not intended for public distribution yet nevertheless circulated throughout the country. It was written by emigrants in the internment camps.

Gabriel Heim

Gabriel Heim is a book and film author and exhibition organiser. He is principally concerned with research into topics of modern and contemporary history and lives in Basel.

Shortly before the end of the Second World War, a small news item in the Swiss weekly magazine Die Weltwoche referred to a publication which was banned from public distribution: “Über die Grenzen [Across borders] is the name of a refugee newspaper that has now published five issues and which could one day prove to have bibliophilic value. It tackles aspects of the emigrant experience with great tact and intelligence, gathers together short essays and poems, letters and reports, and contains drawings and excellent caricatures.” Über die Grenzen was a newspaper by refugees for refugees. The emigrant publication was not openly on display anywhere, could not be bought at any kiosk, and yet still found its way into the hands of people around the country. “Until now, we have been allowed to think what we wanted to write; now, we want to write what we think,” says an editor, working in the internment camp at Wallisellen, in the introduction to the first issue in November 1944. The journal’s authors were scattered across Switzerland as the more than 40,000, mostly stateless, refugees tolerated by the system had been consigned to labour and internment camps in literally every part of the country.

**Caricature of the relationship between Switzerland and the refugees, 1945.** Reprint of the original issue, Ascona 1988

The very first issue contains submissions from the Lindenhof refugee hostel in Churwalden, Graubünden, the Möhlin labour camp in Aargau, the Zweidlen-Weiach labour camp outside Zurich and the Davesco school and work camp in Ticino, reflecting the organised dispersal of the displaced persons. By their very nature, the official measures designed to isolate these people who had fled or been driven from their homeland and to cut them off from the outside world also denied them the opportunity, so essential to their survival, for intellectual exchange. These measures remained in effect after the end of the war, although internees did gain more of a voice in the issues that concerned them. Thus, after all the years of silence, the need for a newspaper as a platform for intellectual expression could be satisfied. Or, as the opening lines on the front page of the first issue put it: “Dawn is breaking, the shadows of the night are giving way. Paths are becoming visible.”

The future cultural elite of the GDR

The driving creative forces behind the journal were Stephan Hermlin, who would go on to become one of the GDR’s most influential authors and a close confidant of Erich Honecker, literary scholar Hans Mayer, who also later settled in the GDR before defecting to the west in 1963, and dramatist Michael Tschesno-Hell, who would eventually rise to the top of the cultural establishment in East Berlin. They had all been members of the anti-fascist resistance movement and had each made their own way to the safe haven of Switzerland, where they were interned. Another important contributor was illustrator Werner Saul, whose caricatures unfailingly suffused with subtle humour hit many a nail on the head.

A delegation of GDR creatives visiting the USSR, 1948. They include Michael Tschesno-Hell (third from left) and Stephan Hermlin (far right). — **A delegation of *GDR* creatives visiting the *USSR*, 1948. They include Michael Tschesno-Hell (third from left) and Stephan Hermlin (far right).** Wikimedia

Making the newspaper was no mean feat. The members of the editorial team were interned at different camps. “With the approval of the authorities, I was given a room of my own in a barrack at the Wallisellen camp,” reported proofreading editor Stephan Hermlin. “I lived alone in this room. It was roughly three metres long and three metres wide, contained a table, a typewriter, a chair, a cupboard, an iron stove and a camp bed. What a blessing! I corrected the proofs at the printers in nearby Affoltern every month.” Each issue was priced at 30 centimes, and publication was funded solely by contributions from the refugees. No one was paid a fee. Distribution was organised with the help of the ‘Central Directorate for Work Camps’, and leave had to be requested before taking part in any of the editorial meetings. The entire process was not without its problems, as shown by a caricature in the third issue entitled “How our newspaper is created”. Nevertheless, its makers succeeded in publishing a total of 14 issues by the end of 1945.

**The process of making the newspaper, as drawn tongue-in-cheek by illustrator Werner Saul.** Reprint of the original issue, Ascona 1988

Switzerland was seen as an ‘island’ that had escaped disenfranchisement and persecution, and towards the end of the war many of the refugees were looking for guidance and assistance. Their hopes and fears revolved around burning questions such as: Where to go? Return home or move on elsewhere? What future is open to us? Given the precarious prospects in a Europe that stood in ruins, the editors could not be expected to produce an introspective literary magazine. Their main concern was to shore up the self-confidence of the displaced persons and to provide them with an outlet for discussing their future. Yet despite the many letters it received, the articles giving advice and the controversial debates on its pages, Über die Grenzen did much more than that. In his commentary on a facsimile issue of the newspaper published in 1988, exile researcher Werner Mittenzwei writes: “It succeeded in making a political and literary culture visible. For today’s readers, it is an impressive document revealing people’s hopes at the end of the war and their readiness to help create a better world.”

**Life after the war gained in importance with each successive issue.** Reprint of the original issue, Ascona 1988

In the summer of 1945, the journal was permitted to go on general sale to Swiss readers. Word had long since spread that the newspaper addressed issues that were “in the interests not only of the refugees, but also of the people of Switzerland,” as the NZZ daily pointed out on 5 March 1945. The publication also opened itself up to new content and editorial input. Swiss painter and graphic artist Hans Erni contributed several drawings. Wolfgang Langhoff, an actor-director at the Schauspielhaus Zürich, looked back on “Ten years in exile” and, in September 1945, the prominent photograph of actress Therese Giehse on the front cover drew attention to Leopold Lindtberg’s refugee drama The last chance. Moreover, the abundance of good authors made it possible to produce a series of first-rate musings on the questions of the day. Über die Grenzen was, in fact, now being read across borders.

**Therese Giehse on the cover of the newspaper in September 1945.** Reprint of the original issue, Ascona 1988

Front cover of the Über die Grenzen newspaper by Hans Erni, October 1945. — **Front cover of the *Über die Grenzen* newspaper by Hans Erni, October 1945.** Reprint of the original issue, Ascona 1988

In the final issue, published at Christmas 1945, the editorial team gave an ‘account’ of itself one last time: “Über die Grenzen – by refugees for refugees. This tagline soon became outdated. Swiss friends offered to get involved and the newspaper began to spread out beyond refugee circles. Today, we are saying farewell to friends old and new. The spiritual bond remains, as well as the conviction that the question of whether people are persecuted because of their origins, their faith or their worldview is not one which applies solely to refugees.”

More of: 20th / 21st century Politics War/battle Article

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