Migrants: The Story of Us All

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Starting this I was a little worried that it might be one of those books that basically just glorifies traveling and the stupid upper-class liberal belief that everyone needs to "see the world." Being a big advocate for localization and simple living I just have no patience for that idea at this point. Fortunately, though Sam Miller is sort of into a lot of the same things I am and therefore puts a little more of a radical spin on the topic than the typical travelogue. Tremendous: blends the personal and the panoramic to great effect' Robert Winder, author of Bloody Foreigners Miller thinks that humans naturally emigrate, and our unease about this is the result of pastoralism, cities, and other historical accidents.

What is migration, anyway? Not much more than a hundred years ago, women regularly “migrated” to marry or to work as governesses, servants and in shops. And yet they would never have called themselves “migrants”. Migration is politically explosive because it goes far beyond simple movement. It touches the heart of who and what we are Timely and empathetic: a rare combination on this most controversial issue' Remi Adekoya, author of Biracial Britain This sets predictable limits on Miller’s work: after a certain passage of time, untold stories generally have to stay that way. Migrants, as a consequence, is uneven. We survey population movements in and out of Britain over the years: a resume of the case for the Viking invasions; a rundown of the Neolithic discovery of America; the horrors of the last slave ship to arrive in the United States. Mythic migrants – Aeneas of Troy, Brutus of Britain – have only walk-on parts. The trouble with this line of argument is that there are umpteen “natural” reasons why people move about the earth. Humans naturally consume and lay waste to their immediate environment. Humans naturally overbreed. HumansBut as Migrants goes on – and Miller retraces the migrations that made him – it becomes evident that the effort, if not wasted, is attachment to sedentary life.

Miller's adept handling of the theme of migration is commendable. The theme of belonging is beautifully explored, with the author highlighting the intricate connections between identity, culture, and the search for a place to call home. Miller, in a praiseworthy bid to tell a global story, adopts the broadest possible definition of migration: one that embraces “slaves and spouses, refugees and retirees, nomads and expats, conquerors and job-seekers.” Alas, the broader one’s argument, the less one ends up saying. While handsomely researched and stirringly written, our concept of migration isn’t much enriched by Miller’s brief tilts at historical behemoths like slavery and the maritime spice route. It’s hardly news that Athenian democracy was exclusionary, of course. Gender and property were grounds for disenfranchisement, as they so often are. Miller’s new history of migration proposes that another axis of obscurity and denial runs through our history: the animus of sedentary peoples against their nomadic rivals. Miller argues this animus was ignorant of their recent past, for most human life on this planet has been mobile, unsettled and/or shifting with the seasons. Once, Miller writes, we were all migrants. Agricultural revolutionWhat emerges from this onion of a book (fascinating digressions around no detectable centre), is, however, more than sufficient compensation. We have here the seed of an enticing and potentially more influential project: a modern history that treats the modern nation state – pretending to self-reliance behind ever-more-futile barriers – as but a passing political arrangement, and not always a very useful one. Also alone of the peoples of the Aegean, he added, they could claim to be free. The two judgements – the purity of their origin and the perfection of their politics – weren’t unrelated. ‘Other cities are composed of unequal men from all sorts of spaces,’ Plato explained in Menexia, ‘and therefore their political systems are unequal… But we are all brothers born from the one mother, and we do not think we should be slaves or masters of one another.’ Alas, neither did they write. Nor did the Roma, until the 19th century; nor did the (very literate) Chinese of Victorian London. Migrants rarely find time to write, and where first-person accounts are missing, fantasy is bred. Some of it ( Asterix) is charming, some of it ( Fu Manchu) is anything but.

In Migrants, Sam Miller writes that this was a lie. Metics – migrant workers, outlanders, living on the earth but not born of it – may have outnumbered citizens at several points in Athenian history. In a paradox later repeated across millennia, the burgeoning city-state found in them an economic buttress and an ideological foil. Even if their family had lived in Athens for generations, a metic would never be able to vote. Citizenship was heritage, a gift awarded only to the autochtons. To everyone else, the gates of the great assemblies were closed. Different distances on the human story allow one to tell wildly different stories. If you follow humanity through deep time, our settlement of the almost the entire planet looks very much like manifest destiny and we’ll all surely end up on Mars tomorrow. But if you trace our movements over a few dozen generations, you’ll discover that, absent force majeure, people are homebodies, moving barely a few weeks’ walking distance from their birthplaces. The cultural opprobrium attached to immigration has been building at least since Aristotle’s day, according to former BBC journalist Sam Miller’s flawed, fascinating stab at a global history of migration. Briefs for the defence are thin on the ground. Nomads and seasonal migrants made up a majority of human beings over most of time, but literate society meant, nearly always, settled society.Migrants left a lasting impression on me. Through its engaging narrative and authentic writing, it powerfully depicts the challenges and triumphs of those who embark on the migratory journey. Sam Miller's ability to humanize the experiences of migrants is a testament to his talent as a writer. This book serves as a poignant reminder of the shared struggles and resilience that define our common humanity. Today, “having a permanent home and a lifelong nationality are considered normal, as if they were part of the human condition.” On the contrary, says Miller: humankind is the migratory species par excellence, settling every continent bar Antarctica, not once, but many times over. Migrants: The Story of us all by Sam Miller is an insightful and thought-provoking book that delves into the history of human migration. The author explores the concept of migration from its earliest origins to the present day, highlighting the role it has played in shaping our societies and cultures.