Forced Migration, Heritage and Identity in Polish-German Borderlands

Abstract

This chapter deals with a case of deportation and forced settlement in Central/Eastern Europe after WWII. After the borders of Poland have changed, all the Germans who lived in the Polish territories were deported to Germany, while at the same time, Poles who lived in what became the Ukrainian Soviet Republic were allowed to move to Poland. Most of them were encouraged to settle in the former German lands, where farms and houses were available, having just been abandoned by their German owners. The chapter describes the difficult process of deportation of the Germans and semi-forced migration of the Poles, their hostile attitudes to the new land, uncertainty due to the post-war political circumstances, and a very problematic process of adaptation to the new territory, abandoned but culturally organized by the Germans. The story also includes the dynamics of the post-migration society, including the new generation’s attitude to the land and its culture, especially after the Polish accession to the EU. The process of construction of collective identity, as well as collective memory and heritage integrating both Polish and German elements, will be discussed.

1. Introduction

The end of WWII, and in particular the Yalta and Potsdam agreements, brought changes in borders and huge waves of migration in Central Europe. The Soviet Union took over the Baltic states, western Ukraine and western Belarus, including large territories that before the war belonged to Poland. Germany lost its eastern provinces, which the new communist-dominated Polish state obtained as compensation for the lands lost in the east. As a result of these border changes, and following the principle of ethnically-pure states, the entire German population which lived in the pre-war eastern regions of Germany, also in the Sudeten mountains in Czechoslovakia, was forced to emigrate to Germany.

In Poland, this process took a shape of expulsion. At the same time Poles who lived in the east of their country before the war, the parts which were to be annexed by the Soviet Union were allowed (though not exactly forced) to emigrate. The right to leave was granted to Poles and Jews who in 1939 had lived within the Polish borders. They were allowed to take their possessions, including livestock and equipment as well as two tons of luggage per family. Legally they could stay and become Soviet citizens, but there were many reasons why only a very small minority of them remained.

This eastern land, around the cities of Lwów, Tarnopol, and Stanisławów in the south and Wilno in the north was in the Polish historical memory the essence of Polishness, their national identity. As far as the ethnic composition of the eastern lands of pre-WWII Poland is concerned, Poles were a minority, outnumbered by Ukrainians, Lithuanians and Belorussians. However, in urban centres Poles and Jews constituted the majority. They were also dominating in the sense of social class, economically and politically, they were the middle class of the region ([1], p. 507). The Poles built their national identity around these lands, called “Kresy” roughly meaning “frontiers”, the land where their ancestors had settled hundreds of years before, where they built the Polish culture, and which they had defended against enemies, such as Russians, Turks, Tartars. Religion played an important role in the construction of collective identity. The Poles were Roman Catholic, while all others were of a different religion (Jews, Orthodox Russians, Muslim Turks and Tartars). Therefore the eastern frontiers were also seen as frontiers of Roman Catholicism and the Latin, Western culture. A myth was created, which became central to the Polish national identity, of the land of a centuries-long struggle for Polishness and Christian Europe against barbarians. Shortly before WWII, the struggle happened again, when Poles fought against Ukrainian nationalists and then the Red Army, and once again won over the enemies. So when in 1945 the decision of the superpowers handed these “sacred” frontiers over to the Soviets, there was a sense of defeat and the ultimate loss. When emigration was suggested, most Poles took this opportunity, as they preferred to move to Poland, wherever it would then be, than to stay in their land which would be occupied and dominated by the enemies.

Those emigrants who had relatives in central Poland tried to settle there, but for the majority, there was no place in already overpopulated villages or in towns which had been heavily destroyed during the war. Therefore the only place where hundreds of thousands of people could go was the new land acquired by the Polish state as a result of the Yalta and Potsdam treaties. Altogether about one and a half million people were displaced from the east of the river Bug (the new Polish-Soviet border) to the new Polish western provinces.

Some of the migrants were the Polish middle class, educated and usually with a very strong sense of national identity shaped in their generation in the 1920s and 1930s by the Polish state recreated in 1918 after long decades of partitions. However, most of the emigrants were Polish peasants, who at that time lived a very simple, traditional life. Their small, poor farms were run in a traditional, autarkic way, which in the east, owing to the excellent quality of the soil, provided them with an adequate amount of food. Their houses were small, usually wooden with thatched roofs. Agriculture was not mechanized and the few existing tools and machines were very simple. Piped water, sewers, and most kinds of modern household equipment were practically unknown. The peasant culture contained folk customs and beliefs largely based on religion, elements of mythologized nationalism and a strong sense of locality. The local landscape and mythical history of the land were essential parts of their view of the world. The land, the mountains, forests, rivers, fields, animals, birds and plants, villages, churches, and cemeteries composed the frame of the feeling of belonging, the people’s local identity. The land provided them with an adequate degree of security (also in the ontological sense) and opportunity. They were certainly not ready for migration. And then the decision came from above to the effect that their land would no longer be Polish, and that their culture and identity would be in danger by the domination of “others” who would have power, and by the Soviet state which would impose their revolutionary changes, seen as completely incompatible with the traditional Polish way of life.

The new Polish western territories were, in some parts, particularly in the east, towards the pre-war German-Polish border inhabited by a mixed population, local Silesians whose regional culture bore many influences of both Polish and German language and traditions. The Poles, especially the peasant communities, maintained their local culture and identity despite the strong pressure of the German national culture, especially since Bismarck consolidated the German state and attempted to create one German nation within its borders. The local urban populations were largely germanised in the process of modernisation, taking advantage of the opportunities created by the German state, its education and other channels of upward mobility.

On the other hand, more western parts, in Lower Silesia, were before the war inhabited almost exclusively by Germans. In 1945 the region’s population was around 3.5 million people. Among that number 1, 239,000 lived in the Sudeten mountains. According to the Potsdam agreement, all the Germans had to leave Poland and move to Germany within its new borders. In 1945 the Polish authorities who were responsible for the selection of those inhabitants who would have to leave and those who would be allowed to stay found only 7000 people who could be classified as Poles based on their culture and identity ([2, 3], p. 17; [4], p.173). During the first year of the Polish administration of the region, practically all the Germans were forced to leave. They had to abandon their homes and leave behind all their property except what they could carry in their personal luggage. The Polish authorities described the expulsion as humanitarian, peaceful and respecting human rights. The German reports though speak of many atrocities, looting, rape and violence [5, 6, 7]. It is clear that the actual process of expulsion varied from case to case, largely depending on a particular officer in charge. Sometimes transportation was provided, in other cases, people had to walk for hours with their suitcases. One thing is certain: within a year or so there were practically no Germans left in the region, except for a few cases of specialists necessary for some infrastructure to function or mixed Polish-German families.

2. The Settlers and the New Land

The following brief remarks primarily deal with the post-migration situation in rural communities in Lower Silesia. The story was in many ways similar throughout the Polish “western territories”, but in the regions with a mixed Polish-German and local population and in big cities, like Wrocław, the situation was more complex. Small villages and towns in rural areas, where Polish immigrant peasants came to depopulated German places presented examples of particularly difficult cases of forced migration to places which were empty in the sense that there were no inhabitants, but which were culturally organized by their former owners.¹

The Polish migrants came to these new Polish provinces from different parts of the country. Some used to live in central Poland and they were looking for new opportunities in the new land. The majority came from pre-war eastern Poland, and their situation was particularly difficult, as they had no place to return to, while they were neither prepared for migration nor were looking forward to living in what in their understanding was German lands. Their attitude towards the land and the whole situation in which they found themselves was mostly negative. They lost the land to which they were usually strongly attached by their local and national identity. They had no reason to be positively disposed towards the German land and culture, especially just after the disastrous German occupation of Poland. Their culture was very different from the local German/Silesian one: the architecture, the farming, and the language which could be seen in many inscriptions in churches, houses, cemeteries and statues, all were alien, strange and hostile. Moreover, they had reasons to believe that their new situation was only temporary. There was a widespread belief that the new war, this time between the Soviets and the Western allies would soon break out or that the Germans would come back to reclaim their land. Such a belief was spread also by communist propaganda till at least 1970,² in order to justify the presence of the Soviet troops in Poland, allegedly to protect Poland from the danger of a German invasion. For the new settlers, such a feeling of uncertainty was an additional factor which generated a sense of rejection and hostility towards their new land. ([8], pp. 168–169; [9], p. 35; [10], pp. 17–37). Such an attitude did not make reconstruction of the settlers’ identity in the new land easy. The land itself was seen as German—a property (also in the symbolic sense) of others, and enemies. The new inhabitants were not interested in the history of the region, its culture and its heritage. In the practical sense, they also had no possibility and no need to invest in the new land, houses and farms. Their resources were limited, and they did not see any reason why they should be invested there, with such an uncertain future. The local Polish communist authorities were not interested in mobilizing the community’s energy or in any bottom-up initiatives. They preferred, as was the case everywhere in communist Poland, to rule from above in an authoritarian system of power, and made plans to build a new, centralized and disciplined communist society. Local, spontaneous initiatives were not welcome. Moreover, the German material culture was larger and richer than what the immigrants were used to and needed. The German houses were big and equipped with technical devices which the migrants did not understand. They would prefer much more simple and more modest traditional houses and farms. The German “abandoned” possessions came to them easily and there was plenty of it, so for example, if there was damage in the house it was easier to move to another, still empty one than to repair. This was also the advice frequently given by the local authorities. The German material culture was neither understood nor valued, and the non-tangible heritage of the land was not known to the new inhabitants. For them to develop their collective identity in the new land it would have been necessary to create conditions for all kinds of spontaneous activity, motivating people to maximize their efforts in order to make their life better and their new land more familiar and thus more acceptable. In fact, the opposite happened, as the communist authorities did not want to generate or support any such grassroots mobilization. The communist regime also tried to change the symbolic identity of the land in order to promote the view according to these lands had been Slavic, that is Polish, and the German presence (which in fact lasted for many centuries, since the Middle Ages, for most of the recorded history of the region) did not create anything of value. Therefore German material culture was not to be taken care of, it was meant to disappear either through deliberate destruction or through long negligence and lack of maintenance and be replaced by some new constructions which would be interpreted as Polish. In effect, spontaneous hostility and indifference towards the new land shown by the inhabitants were supported and strengthened by the authorities’ destructive policy. The German inscriptions and emblems were removed from buildings, German cemeteries were neglected or destroyed (often with the participation of Polish Catholic priests, especially in case a local cemetery was protestant). Streets and squares were given names which were supposed to indicate the Polish character of the land. German monuments and memorials were removed and Polish ones were installed, commemorating either mythical ancient Polish history or the recent liberation from Germany by the Soviet army. Textbooks and guidebooks were written to tell the new Polish version of the region’s past. The former German presence in the region was presented as historically unjust and quite unimportant regarding its contribution to the region.

The new, second-generation settlers did not change their attitude significantly. They were born in the former German land but were not interested in it, nor they could establish contacts with Germany on the other side of the border due to the policy of the communist regime which did not favor such relations. There was a prevailing feeling of impossibilism, apathy and indifference. Many young people left the region and emigrated to central Poland, encouraged to do so by their parents. Social apathy and passive attitude were stronger than in other parts of Poland. All sorts of pathology, especially alcoholism were widespread in local villages. However, with the political and economic change following the 1989 transformation, some symptoms of change began to be seen also in the rural parts of the region of Lower Silesia. The border with unified Germany was open and some contacts between the Germans and the Poles started to be formed.

An overall strong spirit of entrepreneurship, developing in Poland in the 90s reached also this area. The young generation, grandchildren of the settlers, distanced themselves both form their grandparents’ apathy and hostility to the land and also from the “myth of the lost paradise” in the pre-war east. The young generation knows that their land used to belong to Germany and was culturally organized by the Germans, but they think about the region as having its own cultural identity, which may be neither Polish nor German, but local, and which may belong to the local inhabitants and constitute the basis for their identity. The German heritage began to be appreciated for its beauty and practical usefulness, while the local traditions were becoming interesting and learned.

3. The inheritance and processes of reclaiming memory

It needs to be said here that the “Western Lands” are defined as such from the Polish perspective. It is Poland and its capital that makes it possible to see them as “western”, but of course, they would be seen differently from the German viewpoint, where they would be regarded as either concrete regions (for instance Sudeten Land) or the outskirts of Germany (however it needs to be said that they had not been the outskirts of Germany before the World War II). Still, when seen as “western” lands or domains, the space of what used to be German and as a result of historical changes became a part of the Polish state, should be seen as a hybrid area of unusual significance.

The Western Lands were once promoted by the communist regime as “Reclaimed Lands”. It was a propaganda tool supposed to establish a sense of historical justice: Poles were there—allegedly—back again, eager to reconquest the space due to the fact that—to make a long story short—they suffered as a society from the cruelties of WWII. The sense of collective responsibility was a drive for the logic of historical imperative but at the same time the households, palaces, cemeteries churches, towns and villages were to be taken over by people who did not see any connection with these places. The feeling of disconnection was only made stronger by the fact that in contrast to the “historical” imperative of justice which is abstract and collective, all the places in which the Poles were to settle down were concrete—some real people had lived there before and led their lives there. But the simple truth that these were the homes that had belonged to someone before their owners and dwellers were expelled (as a part of the same collective sense of historical justice which allowed for repatriation of Poles who were to settle there) was not often admitted, as not useful and counter-effective for the political purposes of communist governments.

To somehow fill a gap between the new reality to which very many settlers could not adapt easily (if at all) the Polish state produced a historically false and structurally mythical narrative. The main storyline to illustrate “historical justice” for the lands to be taken by new incomers was then based on the idea of regaining and reclaiming what was supposed to have been Polish in ancient times. But whether or not this argumentation worked politically as a mobilization tool for newly formed local communities, it did not make the situation easier. Symbolically there might have been a sense of “reconquest”, but the harm made to the original owners of the lands was never admitted nor mediated. In many cases, new settlers could not live up to the technologies and standards that had been introduced by the former inhabitants which led to the destruction of many historically valuable monuments.

The silent trauma of the expulsed Germans was not, however, the only one present in the Western Lands. The new settlers were given an impossible mission of new life in surroundings completely new to them, but unlike the pioneers of the American West, they did not have to build the new world from the scratch: on the contrary, the repatriates were expected to make use of what had been already there.

“Repatriation” remains to be another spell that did not work properly. To repatriate means to construct a new motherland/fatherland, outside of what used to be one’s home. But the meaning of motherland/fatherland is closely connected with the ancestors, who are often buried in what would be called their land. Poles, who were supposed to settle down in what was not theirs, had left their territories and their ancestors far from their new homes. Would they inherit new ancestors together with the lands they would become hosts of? Would they take care of their remembrance? How would the situation evolve with the generations that came after—would the grandchildren of the settlers from the east forget about their roots or/and would they be ready to accept responsibility for the graves of the ancestors that were literally speaking someone else’s?

The mythology of Western Lands was narrated in such a way that the Poles “deserved” to be settled there, but also that this was a return to what had been Polish a long time ago. Still, even the practicalities of everyday life made it challenging for many of them to use the equipment and devices abandoned by the former owners. It not only intensified immediate nostalgia for the ancient (simple) ways of life but also resulted in the destruction of German infrastructure. But what happened to the intangible heritage?

For the post-war settlers to survive there with or without trying to get well accommodated, new stories had to be told, new traditions had to be invented. As usually happens with all mythologies they originated from various scratches and fragments of whatever was available: some stories were brought by the migrants from their former homes, while others can be seen as attempts to “tame” the new spaces by finding new narratives for them.

One of the findings coming from the recent research is that in very many cases the German, as well as the local and regional heritages that had been silenced for decades, are now being recalled and eagerly used by the third generation of the post-war settlers. Not only the process of re-appropriation and valorisation of the—formerly—difficult past followed the situation of breaking the linear way of transition of traditions and identity. What also needs to be mentioned is another construct of the heritage of “in-between” which was born, namely the inheritance after the communist years. In such a way transforming the very recent and still remembered past of the communist years made it possible for the post-war period to become distant enough to be treated as “safer” content to be narrated. As a consequence of the gap that divided the “German past” and “the Polish present” by inserting the in-between, communist heritage, the pre-war past became a kind of mythical resource, while the heritage of the war itself started to represent yet another theme, represented today by a number of interesting sites and events.

The processes of Europeanization of identities also played an important part in the construction of identities [11], as both the Poles and the Germans found themselves as members of the same European community where national belonging is only one of many possible ways of self-definition and the new generations follow global lifestyles. It should be mentioned that the Europeanization of heritage should be understood not as limited to legal or organizational processes, but much more than this mirror some socially embedded ideas such as democratization with its focus on human stories and visitor’s participation, or highlighting close and informal narratives as opposed to the formerly stiffening and monopolizing official narratives. It is often in such a way that the “post-German” heritage becomes re-appropriated and adopted in the twenty-first century: local legends and stories connected with specific sites gain significance, while the whole construct of homogenized “Regained”/“reclaimed” or even “Western” lands lose their meaning—no longer it is needed to maintain the collective image of the allegedly non-diverse domain that was presented as justly regained.

So after the communist years, which wrecked many of the buildings and other elements of material and intangible culture, the third generation of settlers entered the game. Many of them strive to redefine the space as their home and somewhere they belong. New stories have been invented and are being applied nowadays. Many of those stories can be found in tourism which not only rapidly develops in these highly attractive regions but also grows to be the domain of adopting heritage in such a way that it fits the current needs: of both the travelers’ and hosts’ ones.

4. The new storytelling in tourism

It can be said that tourism is a way of adopting local (and regional) symbolic resources so that the tourists (and local communities) can get an added value of authenticity, which itself is a social construct, but also acts as an argument to leave for a journey in person. Tourists travel to experience new things, face unknown phenomena, get inspired and for reasons that often go beyond the simple need to relax or get entertained. To adjust to such needs, local hosts need to cater for different demands and expectations. In the Western Lands, the main resources to be reinterpreted and given access to are: picturesque landscapes and the beauty of nature, a diverse past which includes but cannot be limited to medieval and feudal history, WWII and—last but not least—the communist inheritance. In this paper, we want to argue that specifically, the communist past as it is currently transformed into heritage makes it feasible for tourism to adopt many diverse parts of the region. On one hand, it makes it easier to establish personal connections with such a recent past and many people still remember it: there are still many witnesses to the communist period in Poland who can explain and interpret much evidence of this era. On the other hand with very rapid social change, communism becomes included in history and the domain of heritage similarly to other “times”. As a result heritage of the Western, Lands is very diverse and when transformed into tourism it can welcome even more stories that could be seen as exotic.

Secondly, we want to argue that such richness is in fact a manifestation of the symbolic versatility of the region that may be explained by the specific character of its history. The Western Lands, as we want to argue has been for a long time No Man’s Land, not ready to belong to one community and not experienced as genuinely owned by its inhabitants. No man’s land is the liminal space in between two defined areas, which makes it receptive to various uses but at the same does not permit for any solid identity to be constructed. In this sense tourist attractions appear to be perfect ways of organizing the symbolic resources as they are meant to cater only for the temporary needs of tourists, who do not settle for good but “just visit”. No man’s land is a space belonging to all and nobody, so many rather surprising and far from obvious ways of its adaptation are arranged. If the identity of the region was strictly formulated, many of the initiatives would probably be seen as some extravaganzas loosely connected with where they are located. With the loss of the Grand Narrative of regained/reclaimed Lands, the region is reinventing itself in the myriads of smaller narratives and phenomena, many of which operate in the domain of tourism.

To illustrate these reflections with an example one could have a look at the vicinity of Karpacz and Szklarska Poręba, two important (but small) cities located in the mountains. Tourists seeking local attractions there will be invited to the Museum of Sport; the Norwegian Wooden Temple “Wang”; the Japanese landscape gardens of “Siruvia. Little Japan”; The Museum: Family House of Gerard Hauptmann, a German romantic novelist; a glamping of Kalevala, a certified Finnish centre of Culture; the Western City of Ściegny (with rodeo shows) among many, genuinely diverse offers the region can boast of. There are gold mines, stunning waterfalls (advertised for having been filmed as scenography for the Chronicles of Narnia), Uranium mines, secret hideaways of the Nazis, numerous post-German palaces, chapels and churches and much, much more to discover. Inventing and developing such diverse attractions, as we want to argue, is possible due to the character of the Western Lands, specifically its heritage of migrations and expulsions. The new narratives are constructed with the use of available fragments of the past and present in both tangible and intangible manners.

Below several strategies for the symbolic conquest of the Lands will be presented. Due to the length of this article, a selection of the most significant ones was made and only those that are widely represented will be described below. Many of the trends and tendencies reflect those that are well known and observed in tourism through the last decades, for example, thematisation (organizing the diversity of possible tourist attractions according to specific themes), experience-based tourism or democratization of heritage (with the inclusion of minority narratives and personal exhibits). Yet, in this, no man’s land, which is both a space of possibilities and unmediated traumas, the interpretation of the resources for tourism seems to have a very specific character and consequences.

5. No-man’s Land and some strategies for identity building

The first strategy presented here makes use of the potential which is both fundamental for tourism and civilizational processes, namely adaptation to the natural environment. Organized, landscape-oriented tourism has long traditions in Lower Silesia. It was well developed in the nineteenth century and as in many other places should be analyzed as a part of nation-making processes, where the attachment to the territory played an important role. The landscape was also romanticized and often regarded as an impulse for artistic illuminations. At the same time, human domination over challenging territories can be seen as a sign of progress and evidence for the accumulation and transfer of knowledge.

Soon after the war tourism, especially the mountain type of it, in Lower Silesia flourished with many events and a strong network of people and places. It can be said that the growth of tourism in the immediate after the war years could gain popularity among others as it was not very costly but most of all was a way of reinterpretation of nature, not culture, heritage or history. In other words, tourists were to discover and appreciate the beauty of nature which had no single national identity and as such was far less problematic.

Of course, all the German names were translated and/or adapted to the Polish language, which made it quite challenging in terms of maps and tourist routes, but the main valor of tourism was supposed to be disconnected from politics.

Nowadays nature-based tourism flourishes in Lower Silesia offering its organizers and travelers many interesting themes. Among them, the most evident is one of the treasures hidden underground and mining cultures that were attempts to explore what had been deeply hidden. This concept is very attractive for the purposes of any storytelling because it makes it possible to align the adventure with a structure of a treasure quest, which is a very popular mythical structure. It can be effectively used also in tourism because it logically organizes the experiences and events into a sequence ended up (hopefully) with a reward.

The use of this fairy tale model is by far not the only element of heritage-based tourism. In a number of various ways, Lower Silesia in its smaller parts (subregions) is presented as a land rich in gems and precious stones, gold, uranium and many minerals. One of the stories told in relation to this is a story of the Spirit of the Mountains, a legendary being known by all communities of the Giant Mountains (Karkonosze). Visitors can come across his legend in a number of places and his image was also adopted by a local brand created by a local cluster of producers and service providers. There is a museum in Karpacz (acknowledged by the voters of Polish National Geographic as one of Poland’s treasures); a mechanical theater in Plawna Dolna where the legends are performed by giant puppets; a cookbook and many more.

The Spirit of the mountains is a very interesting figure.³ First of all, he is transnational so cannot be inscribed to one national mythology, ruling (having ruled?) over the people who inhabit the lands of the Giant Mountains and vicinities without regard to their national or ethnic belonging. Secondly, the Spirit represents superpowers which can interrupt the lives of ordinary people and in consequence provoke unexpected changes in their lives. This gives him and stories of him a universal character, but at the same time, many legends featuring him have very specific locations. There is even a small waterfall called the Spirit’s tomb. Also, the stories of the superhero add some magic to the lands, an element of animism and supernatural powers that is usually desired in many stories. Especially the superpower of changing into other shapes is very intriguing and appreciated by numerous mythologies.

Employing the Spirit of the Mountains in heritage tourism is therefore a way of shifting interest into the domain of magic, legends and universal myths. As far as the stories go, the Spirit usually takes the side of the good but poor while punishing the evil ones, who are vane and corrupt by power. This gives him a powerful position of a superhero, the one who saves the world (or at least some part of it) and makes it a vivid place to live [12].

The figure of the Spirit of the Mountains is used as the axis for the interactive museum in Karpacz, where some of his adventures allow the audience to interact with local legends and learn about interesting facts from the past. The attraction is constructed as family-friendly, very precisely designed by artists and with the use of many high-end technologies. It is immersive, narrative and fun – edutainments at its best. It needs to be said, however, that the selection of topics for the Museum automatically excludes all other, more complex parts of local identity and the past. The difficult periods of the history of Lower Silesia are never mentioned, so the context for the story remains fully legendary and unreal giving a perfect setting for family time out.

Featuring the Spirit of the Mountains in other tourism-related situations and products may be also interpreted as referring to animistic beliefs—of course not very present in these regions, but more than welcome when any storytelling is needed. Magic in general, especially its unexplainable powers, is ubiquitous in the representations of the region encountered in the Western Lands. The most straightforward example is that of Plawna Dolna, a small village reinterpreted and animated by a local artist, who transformed it into Magiczna Plawna (Magical Plawna). The rather eccentric theme park which includes mechanical theater, ceramic workshops, the Troian horse or a merry-go-round and many more, makes use of legendary characters from the region mixing and melting them into a surreal situation where visitors navigate led by their curiosities and sometimes amazement. Not far from the castle of the theme park (of course there must be a castle in the theme park), tourists will also find a museum of Sacred Art, presented in Noah’s Ark, but what is even more surprising they will be invited to the Museum of the Repatriated. The three attractions are to be found nearby and the tickets are also sold in packages.

Plawna Dolna could remain a forgotten place in the middle of nowhere, but due to its reinterpretation by Dariusz Milinski—an artist and local animator, who actually devoted himself to making his vision a tangible reality, it has become recognized for originality and fantasy. The whole place is arranged in a very interesting way but what is most important is it never becomes completely detached from history, although definitely the past is interpreted rather freely. Including the Museum of Refugees in the legendary theme park is specifically worthwhile, especially as in this case it becomes a part of a complex, integrated tourist product offering visitors insight into the more recent history of these lands. Milinski situates Plawna in a universal domain of legends, myths and fairy tales, but with his interpretation, he keeps coming back to the motifs which are closely connected to the region.

Focusing on locality instead of referring to the whole region is a very effective strategy for tourist product development and promotion. We understand it here as adapting microstories, which are connected with specific households, families or persons to narrate the sites in order to give the added value of authenticity. The point is that microstories, which may be biographies of people who used to live there, allow us to focus on the human side of the past, without generalizing it into political history. Often in the narratives, it is the proximity of the story, it is the setting in the site that is highlighted, while more complex historical processes are just mentioned as if they were already known by the guests to the lands of massive migration movements.

A good example of basing a tourist product on a human story can be found in the village of Dobkow in what is advertised as the Land of Extinct Volcanoes, not far from Jelenia Góra or Złotoryja. Villa Greta is a very good quality accommodation and restaurant serving rather sophisticated dishes in a nice, friendly environment of a “post-German” household. The site is managed by a family of descendants of Greta, a German woman who—as one of the very few—managed not to be expulsed from what became Polish territory. Greta was saved from expulsion by romantic love, and after many efforts from her fiancée (who had to get official permission from Warsaw), she got married to a Pole, with whom she started a family. The place was in a way rediscovered by her grandchildren, one of whom returned to the site (after years of traveling around the world) to settle, but also to start local activism, which evolved into building a brand of the Land of extinct volcanoes. The wedding portrait of Greta still decorates one of the walls of the restaurant, while sophisticated (and not cheap) menus demonstrate many local as well as global references. The place is very well received by urban lovers of good coffee, vegetarians and vegans, but also by families with children who love having comfort food meals, sometimes decorated with edible flowers. It is a lively place, with a story that connects the world with the locality. Villa Greta is a site that tells a unique story, offers good quality stays and food and does not stop to be a centre for local entrepreneurship.

The strategy of narrating sites by telling stories of very close proximity, namely by referring to the lives of builders or/and owners of the sites can be encountered in a number of places in the region. The easiest way to find them is to look closely at many of the names which recall not only the old days but also the actual people from the past—with their own dilemmas, sorrows and joys. In some places, the old cooking recipes are brought back to life, while in other places rooms are decorated with souvenirs from the past days. Interestingly enough old suitcases remain to be a very popular type of object to be found as a decoration in many bed and breakfasts and small hotels. The history of expulsions and settlers is no longer absent, but rather esthetically tuned to harmonize with “authentic” places.

Another way of approaching the complex past without emphasizing German-Polish relations is focusing on the quality of arts in heritage locations together with weaving stories of social classes. In Gorzanow, a splendid yet still ruined palace erected by Herbertstein Family and now brought back to life by a Pole, the national or ethnic elements seem not to matter much when narrated in a guided walk. What the guide (an owner himself) emphasizes is the value of the artwork, but also the wealth and eccentricity of the owners who—among others—kept a repertoire theater with an orchestra to stage performances in a baroque setting. The guide would also narrate the history of the place with a rather simple sense of humor, where the rich are portrayed as vane, corrupt and spoilt. It remains a fact, though that the ruins of the palace are being transformed into a fascinating monuments and the work is certainly very demanding.

Finally, the last element of heritage we want to briefly present here is the past of the communist times. The interesting thing is that the era is still remembered by many and can be easily recalled for example by making references to the objects exhibited locally. Especially the objects of everyday use impress many visitors, as they can remember them as items of use (not representation).

6. Happily ever after?

The changes observed in the domain of tourism and heritage reflect many identity processes which take place in what used to be the “Reclaimed Lands”. While many of them can be interpreted as parts of globalization, others are ways of structuring the symbolic diversity of regional heritage or attempts to create interesting tourist attractions. The past still plays a significant part in the Western Lands, inviting new settlers and travelers but most of all shaping the dynamics of the identity of the territories.

The process of transformation of what used to be a German eastern province, a borderland between Poland and Germany, then a depopulated area from which its former inhabitants were deported and which was taken over by uprooted, Polish settlers, reluctant and unhappy owners of the strange land who rejected its heritage, into a land of opportunity for those who decided to give it a new meaning [13], is also a story of Europeanisation. The new, post-2004 European region with an open border between Poland and Germany, offers its rich nature and cultural heritage to people of imagination and an entrepreneurial spirit who are now free to build there their identity, individually constructed and integrating different components, German and Polish, incorporating in an original, often hybrid fusion various symbols and images in which national heritages are mixed with that of the region and individually interpreted, often quite “exotic” elements in a form of post-modern mosaic. Individually constructed identity, freedom of interpretation of the land and its cultural treasures, and its tangible and intangible heritage create a new identity of the land. A European frame of reference enables the new generation of inhabitants of the region to look at it from a new, broader perspective, as a part of Europe of the plurality of interconnected and interpenetrating heritage which can be interpreted in many different ways. A decentralized, dynamic process of giving new meaning to places allows creative individuals to build tourist attractions of a new type which is not identified exclusively with a particular national culture. This is a chance for all inhabitants of the region to live there and to identify with it in their own way. The unhappy past of the land is transformed into a promise to feel at home and to write a new chapter of its history.