The Second World War might have officially ended in May 1945, but in reality, it rumbled on for another ten years… The end of World War II in Europe is remembered as a time when cheering crowds filled the streets, but the reality was quite different.
Between 1945 and 1947 tens of millions of men, women and children were expelled from their countries in some of the biggest acts of ethnic cleansing the world has ever seen.
As someone with a keen interest in modern history, particularly the monumental events of the 20th century, I often find myself drawn to books that promise to shed new light on well-trodden ground. My fascination with World War II naturally extended to its aftermath. I had read plenty about the Marshall Plan, the Nuremberg Trials, the dawn of the Cold War, and the slow process of rebuilding physically and economically. So, when I picked up Keith Lowe’s Savage Continent: Europe in the Aftermath of World War II, I expected another layer to this familiar story – perhaps more detail on the political maneuvering or the early stages of recovery.
What I found instead was a visceral, deeply unsettling, and utterly essential counter-narrative. Lowe’s book isn’t about reconstruction committees or ideological blocs; it’s about the collapse of order, the explosion of violence, and the sheer, brutal chaos that engulfed much of Europe in the years immediately following May 1945. Reading Savage Continent was not a comfortable experience, but it was undoubtedly a profoundly important one.
From the outset, Lowe makes it clear that the end of fighting between the major powers did not mean the end of violence, suffering, or even war for millions. He strips away the common image of liberation and immediate peace and reveals a continent teeming with displaced persons, ethnic retribution, widespread banditry, rape, murder, and a profound moral breakdown. It was a world where the lines between victim and perpetrator were blurred, and where basic human decency seemed to have evaporated under the pressure of years of brutalisation.
I found the book’s strength lay in its unflinching detail and its ability to synthesize countless individual stories and regional upheavals into a single, horrifying tapestry. Lowe doesn’t shy away from describing the atrocities committed by ordinary people against their neighbours, the desperate plight of refugees, or the struggle of nascent authorities to reimpose any semblance of law.
Here are some of the key, harrowing themes that Lowe explores, which personally challenged my pre-conceptions:
- The Scale of Ethnic Cleansing and Expulsions: Millions were forcibly moved, often violently, based on ethnicity. This wasn’t a neat or managed process; it was brutal and chaotic.
- The Plight of Displaced Persons (DPs): The sheer number of people uprooted by the war – former slave labourers, refugees, concentration camp survivors, ethnic Germans expelled from Eastern Europe – created a humanitarian crisis of unprecedented scale, often met with indifference or hostility.
- Rampant Lawlessness and Violence: Beyond official conflicts, the continent was rife with banditry, revenge killings, sexual violence used as a weapon, and vigilante justice. The rule of law had simply disappeared in many areas.
- Moral Ambiguity and Collaboration: The complex and often murky issue of punishing collaborators and war criminals led to summary executions, mob justice, and widespread accusations that were often politically motivated.
- The Struggle to Re-establish Authority: How do you rebuild institutions, police forces, and legal systems in a society where norms have collapsed and trust is non-existent?
While I deeply respect Lowe’s meticulous research and the vital corrective his book offers to simpler narratives, I did find myself grappling with its intensity at times. The relentless focus on negativity, while arguably necessary to make his point, can be emotionally draining. I occasionally wondered if, amidst the widespread savagery, there weren’t any pockets of successful, immediate community rebuilding or acts of unexpected kindness that might offer a sliver of balance, even if they were exceptions to the rule. However, I understand that including such instances might dilute the book’s central, provocative thesis.
Another thought that occurred to me was the potential for overwhelming the reader with the sheer volume of grim anecdotes. While each story adds to the cumulative impact, there were moments where I felt the weight of the suffering risked leading to a sense of numbness, which I believe was the opposite of the author’s intention.
Despite these reflections on the reading experience itself, the lasting impact of Savage Continent on my understanding of post-war Europe is undeniable. It forced me to confront a brutal reality that is often glossed over. It hammered home the point that ‘peace’ isn’t a switch that is flicked, but a fragile state that must be built and protected, especially after the collapse of established order.
Here’s what the book fundamentally changed for me:
- I no longer see May 1945 as a clear dividing line between war and peace. It was a transition into a different, still violent, phase.
- My empathy for the millions of displaced and stateless people of the era has deepened significantly. Their suffering didn’t end with the armistice.
- I have a much starker understanding of the fragility of civil society and how quickly it can disintegrate under extreme pressure.
- It reinforces the critical importance of functioning legal systems and unbiased authority for maintaining order and protecting basic rights.
In conclusion, Keith Lowe’s Savage Continent is not an easy read. It is disturbing, graphic, and challenges comforting assumptions about the post-war period. However, it is also a masterpiece of historical synthesis and a desperately needed reminder that the foundations of modern Europe were built not just on blueprints for recovery, but on the blood-soaked, often violent resolution of the war’s immediate, chaotic aftermath. I highly recommend it, but be prepared – it will stay with you long after you’ve turned the final page.