What happens when people return to a homeland that is, in theory, already theirs, but where they struggle to belong? This question lies at the heart of the doctoral research of Madiha Z. Sadiq, a PhD researcher at the EUI Department of Political and Social Sciences. "My research topic focuses on Japanese civilians who went to live in Manchuria – in what is now the northeast of China – during Japan’s period of imperial expansion in the early 20th century. At the end of the Second World War, they were repatriated back to Japan. I look at their experiences of resettling in the homeland after spending time in an overseas territory, and also how they influenced local memory of war," she explains.
The story of Japan’s repatriates is marked by displacement and difficult return. When the Soviet Union entered the war in 1945, civilians in Manchuria were caught in the conflict. "The people who returned from Manchuria had a terrible repatriation experience. The Soviets came in, and many of the settlers living along the border ended up serving as human shields. There were very high casualties and many survivors blamed the Japanese authorities. In addition to a long and dangerous journey back to Japan, they did not always receive the best reception upon return."
These experiences diverged dramatically. "For some, the return took a few months, for others a few years, and some could not come back for over 30 years. This clearly shaped how people remember the war, in ways that differ from the narratives presented by the Japanese government or by those who remained in Japan."
The memory of repatriates' experiences challenges and, at the same time, becomes part of Japan’s postwar identity of peace and victimhood. "There are certain locations in Japan where the memory of the repatriates is preserved very strongly and integrated into local understandings of the past," she explains. "This local memory, that does not shy from Japan's perpetrator past, confronts the national identity Japan constructed after the war – one that positions it as a nation of peace."
Fieldwork in Japan brought Madiha to several museums that reveal contrasting approaches to war memory. "One was the Yushukan War Museum, a famous national museum in Tokyo, located next to a shrine for people who sacrificed themselves for the country. Unfortunately, this means there are many war criminals there. The narrative presented was very much in line with the state, offering a selective view of history."
Other institutions, however, tell a different story. "The Peace Museum for the Agricultural Settlers of Manchuria in Nagano prefecture serves more as an educational facility highlighting why war and empire are dangerous endeavours. A lot of this is built on the testimonies given by the repatriates when they came back."
The contrasts are particularly vivid at the Repatriation Museum in Maizuru, in the north of Kyoto Prefecture. "It speaks to this dual identity of perpetrator and victim. It presents the lesson that if you behave badly, bad things will happen to you."
This duality – between guilt and victimhood, national and local memory – runs through much of Madiha's doctoral research. "There is a dominant narrative by the government that Japanese imperialism was a response to Western expansionism, protecting Asia. Then, of course, the victim narrative emerges from the atomic bombing. One thing I look at in my thesis is what happens when you drastically rebrand your identity from perpetrator to victim, without actually tackling the core issues that led to you becoming the perpetrator."
She notes that the official peace narrative often carries a subtle self-interest. "When I read and learn more about where this peace narrative comes from, it gives the sense that it’s not necessarily, ‘we feel bad for what we did overseas,’ but more, ‘in the end, we suffered because of what we did.’ It can be read as a lesson in self-preservation – if we don’t want our own people to suffer again, we should avoid such dangerous endeavours."
This perspective, she adds, also appears in the accounts of the repatriates. "There’s this additional lens of being sold a false dream, being sold the same story as other imperial and settler-colonial projects: of the need for lebensraum, one’s duty as a member of the superior race to lead and civilise others, or the promise of ‘a land without a people for a people without a land,’. The settlers expect a noble mission for the harmony and prosperity of Asia, but upon arrival, the reality they confront is very different. Some began to feel an internal conflict: they were taking land and livelihoods from others, yet the propaganda machine had convinced them that they were securing prosperity for all."
Local contexts often preserve memory differently from the national level. "I was surprised when I was in the south of Nagano, looking for some books in the public library. I was searching in the history section, the war history section, but the librarian told me to look in the local history section. That was really interesting, that they explicitly categorised it as local history. It felt intentional."
Agrarian communities appear especially resilient in maintaining independent narratives. "From what I am seeing so far, it’s the agrarian societies with very rooted local identities that seem to do a better job at this type of preservation," she says. "Maybe because there is a strong link between Manchuria settlement and agricultural identities. But also, in some of these areas, there has historically been more resistance to the government’s attempts to incorporate them into highly institutionalised national structures."
Her approach weaves together fieldwork, archival research, and local observation, combining historical reconstruction with social analysis. For Madiha, navigating these methods has been one of the main challenges of her PhD journey. "A lot of information is not well preserved or not accessible unless you physically go to different sites and archives. Even then, it is difficult to know where to go," she explains. "You are doing the work of a historian in terms of collecting sources, and then the work of the social or political scientist in terms of analysing and answering the question you are interested in."
Behind these questions lies a deeply personal motivation. "It is an extension of understanding myself as a second-generation immigrant in the UK and of the typical diaspora struggle: who am I, which place do I connect to, where do I belong?" she reflects. "I have contemplated the idea of return, and I think it is a growing sentiment among second and later generations. We tend to romanticise and idealise it, as if it is almost a fantasy to connect with the culture and place that you should be part of, but because your family decided to move, you have never really lived there. But then the reality of return is very different."
Building on this personal perspective, Madiha's reflections extend beyond Japan, connecting to wider questions of conflict, migration, and identity. "I can imagine that the experiences of Afghan refugees in Pakistan are very different from Afghans in Afghanistan or Afghans in Europe in relation to the war in Afghanistan," she explains. "Another topic I was interested to look at is how Palestinian and Jewish diasporas experience the situation in Palestine differently from those who reside there. Being Kashmir origin, I wonder similarly whether my views of the conflict there align with those who live there and experience the conflict first-hand. I think your proximity to something, to some degree, affects the way you interpret or relate to it."
This comparative perspective underpins her broader interest in migration and conflict. "I want to understand how experiences of conflict differ for the same population in different settings – for refugees in some cases, and for those who remain at home. There are many contemporary events that reflect this."
Her case study of Japan’s repatriates also offers lessons for integration today. "In my case, I am showing that shared cultural or linguistic attributes do not automatically lead to successful integration. Maybe that can push us to explore other mechanisms to aid cohesion between groups. It does not have to be based on such surface-level attributes. There are deeper issues in society that we can address, which in turn affect how we can relate to migrants and incorporate them. I like to expose the hypocrisy of the nation!", she laughs.
At the EUI, Madiha has developed new methodological and theoretical tools to explore these questions. "I would say my methodological toolkit was a lot smaller when I arrived. My understanding of what research can look like was also a lot narrower. I do not have a political science background prior to the PhD. Being here, talking to professors, taking part in working groups and seminars, all of that helped me broaden my mind and realise the full potential of what I can achieve."
She describes the EUI as a space where ideas are constantly tested and reshaped. "With so much happening and a constant flow of researchers, this environment really helps you to develop the best ideas. I've gone through so many ideas that I’ve pitched in a working group and then thought afterwards that it was time to move on to something new. Having a space to test and refine ideas with professors, visiting academics, and other researchers has been really valuable."
Through her case study of postwar Japan, Madiha Z. Sadiq reveals how narratives of belonging and exclusion continue to shape both national histories and personal identities. Her work invites reflection on what it means to return home, and how memories of the past continue to shape our sense of belonging today.
Madiha Z. Sadiq is a PhD researcher at the EUI Department of Political and Social Sciences. Her PhD thesis, ‘After Imperial Agents Return: the case of Manchuria’ is supervised by Professor Simon Hix and Professor Andrew Geddes (co-supervisor).