Public debate is often permeated by anxiety over uncontrolled migration, a subject that touches exposed nerves. Yet what is often forgotten is that millions of Germans once left their homeland, driven by the dream of a better life.
Të lidhura
None found
“They are coming in droves and will never adopt our language and customs… Soon they will outnumber us… and even our government will be destabilized.” These harsh words sound like the anti-refugee rhetoric of our times, but in fact, their target was the Germans themselves. The author of this severe judgment in the 18th century was Benjamin Franklin, one of the architects of the United States and co-author of the Declaration of Independence, which proclaims that all people are equal and have inalienable rights such as life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.
It was precisely this pursuit of happiness and the hope for a more dignified existence that motivated countless people throughout history to turn their backs on their origins. Fleeing armed conflicts, political persecution, religious, ethnic or gender discrimination, as well as natural disasters, extreme poverty and the lack of a future, have always been powerful driving forces.
Historian and migration expert Jochen Oltmer emphasizes that the movement of populations is by no means a contemporary phenomenon, but a constant throughout human history. Ever since modern humans migrated from Africa around 100,000 to 120,000 years ago and spread across the globe, migration has been an inseparable part of our collective experience.
In Franklin’s era, the wave of Germans choosing America was still modest. By 1820, their number stood at just 150,000. Many were lured by compatriots who told exaggerated success stories and accounts of overnight wealth. What most people did not know was that these recruiters were paid for every person they persuaded to leave. Today, we would describe them as traffickers promising migrants the earth, while the dangerous journeys on overcrowded ships evoke those early times.
“The cost of passage on a sailing ship was equivalent to a skilled worker’s annual wage,” explains Simone Blaschka of the German Emigration Center in Bremerhaven. “To afford it, families were forced to liquidate all their assets.”
The journey to the New World was a step into the unknown. Most could not even imagine the horror of the months-long voyage. Crammed below deck, passengers were plagued by fleas, insects and rats. Their diet consisted of hard ship’s biscuits, salted meat and spoiled porridge, accompanied by stagnant and often contaminated water. Diseases such as dysentery, typhus, smallpox and scurvy were unavoidable. In his book “Journey to Pennsylvania in 1750,” teacher and organist Gottlieb Mittelberger recounts: “Many people cry, sigh and shout out of longing for their homeland. Then most are overcome by homesickness, and in this misery hundreds of people die and are thrown into the sea.” Upon arriving in America, most of his fellow travelers were sold at auction. These were penniless travelers who had journeyed free of charge in exchange for a commitment to years of forced labor to repay the debt. Their contracts were traded, families were torn apart, and parents were often forced to sell their children.
During the same period, another major flow of emigrants headed east. They responded to the call of Catherine the Great, the German-born Russian empress. On July 22, 1763, she issued a manifesto inviting people to move to Russia to populate uninhabited areas. The promises were generous: free transportation, land at no cost, years of tax exemption, exemption from military service, education and a special political status allowing emigrants to preserve the German language and broad autonomy.
Nevertheless, in the 19th century, America’s magnetism once again became dominant. “Germany’s population nearly doubled during that century, so the pressure on the labor market was enormous,” notes Simone Blaschka. Poor harvests and hunger made the situation worse. “People saw no prospects for themselves or their children and decided to leave.” Around six million Germans set out for the New World, also encouraged by writings such as that of W. E. Eggerling in 1832, who claimed that an honest and hardworking person lived nowhere better, more freely or more happily than in America.
The Germans were by no means the only ones leaving. “From the beginning of the 19th century until the First World War, around 60 million Europeans left the continent,” Oltmer points out. It was precisely in the middle of the 20th century that the tectonic plates of migration shifted, and Europe changed from a continent of emigrants into a continent of immigrants. “Whether migration is viewed as a burden or an asset is closely linked to the economic situation and the labor market. When expectations for the future are optimistic, attitudes toward migrants are also more positive. When expectations are pessimistic, attitudes become more negative,” he explains.
In West Germany in the 1950s and 1960s, during the economic miracle, the future looked bright. Starting in 1956, the so-called “guest-worker trains” arrived at the stations of Stuttgart, Dortmund and Cologne, bringing Italians, Greeks, Spaniards, Portuguese, Yugoslavs and Turks lured by the promise of well-paid jobs. Until recruitment was halted in 1973, around 14 million people came to West Germany as “Gastarbeiter,” and around three million of them decided to stay permanently.
Nevertheless, the political dogma of the time remained unwavering: “We are not a country of immigration.” “For a long time, the prevailing belief was that, regardless of the reasons for their arrival, these people did not belong to German society because one day they would leave,” says Oltmer. “And since they would leave, there was no reason to take care of them.” This mistaken premise has had profound consequences. According to the Federal Statistical Office, in 2025 more than 30 percent of Germany’s population had a migration background. The fact that many members of the second, third or fourth generations still do not feel fully accepted is directly linked to the way the host society has handled integration. “Genuine acceptance has been extremely limited, and where it has existed, it has had to be earned through colossal effort,” he adds.
Today, Germany is trying to attract skilled workers, while offering refugees protection only in cases of political persecution or war. As a researcher, Oltmer is often confronted with the question of why some migrants are more welcome than others. This dilemma became evident in 2015, with the arrival of many refugees. “It was said: ‘You people from Syria, because of the civil war, have the right to protection.’ But at the same time, society was sending Afghans the message: ‘We are somewhat more skeptical in your case.’”
Migration and asylum remain political issues that fuel heated debates in Germany and Europe. Oltmer believes that politicians should lead and moderate this discussion. He notes that asylum accounts for only around 10 percent of migration to Germany. The overwhelming majority is not motivated by war or persecution. “This shows that when scandals are created and negative images produced, we are dealing with a massive distortion of the debate.” The descendants of German emigrants, whom Franklin once disparaged as “stupid peasants from the Palatinate,” are now fully integrated into American society. In Germany, meanwhile, this process has been much slower. “We have an extraordinary delay,” Oltmer observes. “For many people, there is no possibility of regularizing their status and obtaining a stable residence permit, even though everyone knows that they can and will stay.” For this reason, he is convinced that German society must engage in a serious discussion about the country’s future. “This is not a conversation that can take place only in a pleasant way within your own group. Sometimes it is a fierce and even painful debate. But there is no other way.” /DW
