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This essay explores how an international project between socialist nations unraveled transnationally. I explain the cultural shift toward taboo topics in the 1970s and argue that the shift was forced by two factors: first, the rise of a new generation of youngsters unaffected by World War II, and second the relative ease of transnational mobility. Starting in 1972, Poland, East Germany, and Czechoslovakia allowed citizens to travel more freely in a project called the "borders of friendship." Exploring changes in the representations of World War II and what was later to be called the Holocaust in literature; in the celebration of rock music and film; and at international happenings, I argue that teenagers starting in the 1970s were raised with an increased sense of acceptance not only of their history but also their state. Critically, however, they also gained a greater sense of ideological irony: just as it became more acceptable to discuss taboo topics like Stalinization or the expulsion of Germans, so too was their understanding that deviations from strict ideology were more accepted.

Patrice Dabrowski (2014): Poland: The First Thousand Years and Brian Porter-Szűcs (2014): Poland in the Modern World. Beyond Martyrdom and Anita Prażmowska (2013): Poland: A Modern History As a student at Berkeley, I was once a graduate assistant in a history of modern Europe lecture seminar. The professor was a West Europeanist, although the themes of the seminar bridged both East and West. Throughout the otherwise well-taught seminar, I was struck by the lack of attention on the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth or its various permutations after partition. Indeed, Poland offers perhaps one of the best case studies to explore major themes of modern European (and global) history. It was a place where Christianization, the Enlightenment, nationalization and industrialization all took root in various (frequently unexpected) forms. In the twentieth century, particularly, Poland was not only a case study: it was the central theater in Europe where ideologies of various stripe fought each other in word and deed. While the country is usually only treated as a side note in history lectures, three recent publications reveal how central Poland can be in understanding European history. Each book offers different approaches to the grand narrative of this region, and all are revisionist when compared to the traditional story told by conservatives in Poland, even if they vary greatly in the degree of revision. They represent in a nutshell the various ways in which Polish history is being interpreted by academics and the society at large. The first book, by University of Vienna researcher Patrice Dabrowski, takes the first thousand years of Polish history; the second, by London School of Economics and Political Science professor Anita Prażmowska, begins in the nineteenth century; the third, by University of Michigan professor Brian Porter-Szűcs, focuses primarily on the twentieth century. The authors' point of departure arguably frames the way in which they tell the story of Poland.

Patrice Dabrowski (2014): Poland: The First Thousand Years and Brian Porter-Szűcs (2014): Poland in the Modern World. Beyond Martyrdom and Anita Prażmowska (2013): Poland: A Modern History As a student at Berkeley, I was once a graduate assistant in a history of modern Europe lecture seminar. The professor was a West Europeanist, although the themes of the seminar bridged both East and West. Throughout the otherwise well-taught seminar, I was struck by the lack of attention on the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth or its various permutations after partition. Indeed, Poland offers perhaps one of the best case studies to explore major themes of modern European (and global) history. It was a place where Christianization, the Enlightenment, nationalization and industrialization all took root in various (frequently unexpected) forms. In the twentieth century, particularly, Poland was not only a case study: it was the central theater in Europe where ideologies of various stripe fought each other in word and deed. While the country is usually only treated as a side note in history lectures, three recent publications reveal how central Poland can be in understanding European history. Each book offers different approaches to the grand narrative of this region, and all are revisionist when compared to the traditional story told by conservatives in Poland, even if they vary greatly in the degree of revision. They represent in a nutshell the various ways in which Polish history is being interpreted by academics and the society at large. The first book, by University of Vienna researcher Patrice Dabrowski, takes the first thousand years of Polish history; the second, by London School of Economics and Political Science professor Anita Prażmowska, begins in the nineteenth century; the third, by University of Michigan professor Brian Porter-Szűcs, focuses primarily on the twentieth century. The authors' point of departure arguably frames the way in which they tell the story of Poland.

Patrice Dabrowski (2014): Poland: The First Thousand Years and Brian Porter-Szűcs (2014): Poland in the Modern World. Beyond Martyrdom and Anita Prażmowska (2013): Poland: A Modern History As a student at Berkeley, I was once a graduate assistant in a history of modern Europe lecture seminar. The professor was a West Europeanist, although the themes of the seminar bridged both East and West. Throughout the otherwise well-taught seminar, I was struck by the lack of attention on the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth or its various permutations after partition. Indeed, Poland offers perhaps one of the best case studies to explore major themes of modern European (and global) history. It was a place where Christianization, the Enlightenment, nationalization and industrialization all took root in various (frequently unexpected) forms. In the twentieth century, particularly, Poland was not only a case study: it was the central theater in Europe where ideologies of various stripe fought each other in word and deed. While the country is usually only treated as a side note in history lectures, three recent publications reveal how central Poland can be in understanding European history. Each book offers different approaches to the grand narrative of this region, and all are revisionist when compared to the traditional story told by conservatives in Poland, even if they vary greatly in the degree of revision. They represent in a nutshell the various ways in which Polish history is being interpreted by academics and the society at large. The first book, by University of Vienna researcher Patrice Dabrowski, takes the first thousand years of Polish history; the second, by London School of Economics and Political Science professor Anita Prażmowska, begins in the nineteenth century; the third, by University of Michigan professor Brian Porter-Szűcs, focuses primarily on the twentieth century. The authors' point of departure arguably frames the way in which they tell the story of Poland.

Daniel Logemann is an architect. In his dissertation, his house, he has taken blueprints and built spaces for the family. There are two neighbors living in this communal apartment: East Germans and Poles. Their personal apartments are by-and-large equitable: the East Germans got the apartment with a garage to park their car and bicycle, while the Poles got the one with a balcony to see the city. In other words, East Germans got the economy, Poles got political liberalism.

The "borders of friendship" was an open border travel project between Czechoslovakia, East Germany, and Poland starting in 1972. The project allowed ordinary citizens to cross borders with a police-issued personal identification card, and citizens of member countries were initially allowed to exchange unlimited amounts of foreign currency. In this episode of liberalized travel - still largely unknown in the West - the number of border-crossings between member states grew from the tens of thousands to the tens of millions within a very brief period. This dissertation analyses the political, economic, social and cultural effects of this open border policy. It first clarifies what motivated authorities in Poland, East Germany, and Czechoslovakia to promote unorganized foreign tourism in the 1970s and 1980s. Then, it explores how authorities encouraged citizens to become tourists. Governments wanted the "borders of friendship" to be successful, but they were unsure how to define success. Each government had different understandings about what the project was supposed to entail. Whatever the case, officials worked to ensure that their population reaped the greatest rewards from the open border. For ordinary citizens, the "borders of friendship" were popular, but were fraught with problems. They liked being able to go abroad, but felt uneasy about foreigners entering their own lands, often plagued by shortages. Additionally, border guards and custom officials harassed people going abroad. Furthermore, people had not forgotten unpleasant chapters of World War II, including forced population movements and genocide. Finally, even if people gained a greater sense of "freedom" through open borders, few forgot the looming presence of the totalitarian state. Yet the open border project (like the travel it was meant to encourage) was not organized by the state. Contrary to commonplace views of the East bloc, officials did not act in unison, but rather struggled unsuccessfully to control undesirable travel and to gain reliable information to disseminate to socialist neighbors. Additionally complicating matters was the fact that everyone had different understandings as to what the open border project was meant to entail. Nevertheless, even if locals were chagrinned by shortages in their supermarkets, the open border project provided everyday individuals with a new social environment. By 1989, travel had become engrained in the habitus not only of citizens in the West, but of East Central Europe, as well. In sum, I paint a picture of late state socialism which, on the one hand, alters our commonplace perceptions of life behind the "Iron Curtain," but on the other, which also confirms views of governments hyper-sensitive to change.

During much of the Cold War, physical escape from countries in the Eastern Bloc was a nearly impossible act. There remained, however, possibilities for other socialist escapes, particularly time spent free from party ideology and the mundane routines of everyday life. The essays in this volume examine sites of socialist escapes, such as beaches, campgrounds, nightclubs, concerts, castles, cars, and soccer matches. The chapters explore the effectiveness of state efforts to engineer society through leisure, entertainment, and related forms of cultural programming and consumption. They lead to a deeper understanding of state–society relations in the Soviet sphere, where the state did not simply "dictate from above" and inhabitants had some opportunities to shape solidarities, identities, and meaning