Introduction and Contribution:

Authoritarian regimes are often reluctant to let their citizens leave: 79% of autocracies restrict emigration compared to only 4% of democracies. This reluctance is understandable, as migration deprives rulers of talent, resources, and implied consent to the system. Yet autocracies do change their emigration laws. What are the consequences of these changes? 

In “A Little Lift in the Iron Curtain,” Hans Lueders examines how a 1983 emigration reform in socialist East Germany (German Democratic Republic, GDR) affected crime rates in the country. The reform permitted about 62,500 citizens to exit the GDR over a short period of time — mostly to reunite with their families in West Germany. Lueders asks how this emigration affected crime. This is a natural outcome to consider because the former GDR, like many autocracies, used the emigration system to filter out individuals seen as criminals or  “undesirables.” Unauthorized exit was criminalized, and some citizens committed crimes precisely to signal that they should be allowed to leave.
 

Image

Figure 1: Consequences of the 1983 Emigration Reform
Note. This figure reports the number of first-time exit visa applications per year (gray line [Eisenfeld 1995, 202]) and annual emigration from the former GDR (black line; data collected by the author). The period after the emigration reform is emphasized.
 

Lueders shows that the effects of emigration following the 1983 reform on criminal activity depended on the type of crime. Ordinary kinds of crime — those not committed for political motifs — declined after the reform. However, border-related crimes increased sharply. This is ostensibly because those “left behind” (i.e., unable to take advantage of the 1983 reforms) resumed lawbreaking in order to pressure the regime to let them out as well. An analysis of petitions submitted to the state supports the idea that emigration raised demand for emigration.

The paper makes important contributions to our knowledge of authoritarianism and migration. For one, it shows how policies enacted to temporarily satisfy domestic or international audiences can backfire, later increasing the state’s burden. Autocrats may behave strategically in the short run, yet their choices can have powerful, unanticipated consequences in the years ahead. Otherwise, “strong” and repressive autocracies like the former GDR may struggle to address migratory pressures and be too inflexible to switch course after negative consequences become apparent. 

Safety Valves and Reform in East Germany:

Social scientists have argued that emigration policy under authoritarianism can serve as a “safety valve,” allowing or forcing the exit of those who threaten the stability of the regime. In addition, requiring citizens to apply for exit visas acts as a “screening mechanism” because applying is politically costly; those who keep applying reveal themselves to be potential troublemakers whose exit ought to be permitted. Lueders provides evidence that the costs of applying for exit visas were indeed high in the former GDR: applicants (and sometimes their families) were intimidated and harassed by secret police, expelled from universities, and demoted or fired. The state also tried to “win over” prospective emigrants, showing them reports about the allegedly dismal living conditions in West Germany or letters from East German refugees begging authorities to return to the GDR.

Importantly, officials considered how emigration would influence the GDR’s stability, looking for those who opposed the country and its socialist vision. Many applicants realized this and thus sought to publicly challenge the regime, for example, by leaving socialist mass organizations or abstaining from voting. Committing crimes thus raised one’s chances of successfully emigrating. East Germans watched peers and family members break the law to force their exit, learning that the system encouraged and rewarded criminality. 

After Germany’s division into two, many East Germans preferred the economic and political freedoms found in democratic West Germany. The government thus grew concerned: most émigrés were young and educated, and their exit undermined the GDR’s claims that it was popular and that socialism was the superior politico-economic system. Accordingly, emigration was criminalized in 1952, and the GDR began erecting physical barriers, culminating in the construction of the Berlin Wall in 1961. Emigration plummeted to between 25,000 and 40,000 per year thereafter.

Emigration remained severely limited until the early 1980s, when international pressure — from both West Germany and the Soviet Union — to reform its emigration system began to build. Ultimately, in September 1983, the GDR conceded and recognized the right of all citizens with family abroad to apply for an exit visa. 

After the reform, exit visa applications and departures surged, the largest wave since the Berlin Wall’s construction. Emigration patterns evidenced a clear demographic shift: émigrés were less likely to be retired or to have formerly served in prison, while working-age East Germans made up 75% of emigrants, up from 49%. The state viewed this emigration wave as a welcome opportunity to get rid of criminals and political enemies. However, it underestimated the long-term consequences of offering some citizens a way out.
 

Image

Table 1: Comparison of Emigrants in 1983 and 1984 (January to June of each year)
 

Data and Findings:

To measure the effects of the 1983 policy on crime, Lueders presents crime data from 1976 to 89. He divides crime into “ordinary,” e.g., against state property or persons, and “political” crimes, e.g., the use of force against state officials, treason, and, importantly, illegal border crossings. Two of Lueders’ key hypotheses for our purposes are that emigration reform led to (1) a decline in ordinary crime, because the GDR effectively removed so-called troublemakers (the safety valve mechanism), and (2) a rise in border crimes, because those left behind were willing to break the law in order to exit (the demand mechanism).

The statistical analysis — consisting of comparing places with varying emigration rates — is consistent with both hypotheses. For the most part, ordinary crime declined after 1983. By contrast, border crime also initially declined, but this pattern dramatically reversed within two years. By 1987, border crimes began to rise significantly in places that had experienced a lot of emigration in the initial wave. Lueders thus provides evidence that in the short run, emigration indeed functioned as a safety valve (i.e., criminals were successfully identified). But thereafter, emigration had severe repercussions: rather than alleviating pressure on the regime, it created even greater demand for emigration — and thus more criminal activity.

A final piece of evidence comes from detailed data on petitions. The GDR encouraged citizens to communicate a range of demands and grievances to state officials, including the desire to emigrate. Lueders shows that in 1984, over 16,000 petitions were written specifically about emigration, which constituted nearly 28% of the total number of exit visa applications. And these petitions for exit visas increased substantially more in areas with above-average emigration during the initial emigration wave, suggesting that greater emigration in one period was associated with greater demand for it in subsequent periods. An understanding of East Germany illustrates how autocrats face a delicate balance between permitting migration and managing its consequences.

*Research-in-Brief prepared by Adam Fefer.

The "Meet Our Researchers" series showcases the incredible scholars at Stanford’s Center on Democracy, Development and the Rule of Law (CDDRL). Through engaging interviews conducted by our undergraduate research assistants, we explore the journeys, passions, and insights of CDDRL’s faculty and researchers.

How can empathy and perspective-taking be implemented on a larger scale, and how can they be used to address the challenges we see in the world today? 

Well, this isn’t something you can legislate. You can’t tell politicians to force people to imagine someone else’s life. The real audience for this work is advocacy organizations like the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) or the International Rescue Committee (IRC), because they’re already doing it. They use storytelling and humanizing narratives in their campaigns all the time. 

It’s really hard, though, because we’re living in what people call the attention economy, which is driven by social media. Everything is about visibility, clicks, and headlines, and there’s always a new crisis. It becomes difficult for people to hold on to empathy for more than a moment because the focus is constantly shifting from one story to another. Even if a big influencer were to advocate for refugees or displaced communities, another could just as easily come along and dehumanize them or spread misinformation that undermines this. So it becomes this constant tug-of-war between empathy and fear, between humanizing and othering. 

With that being said, I think social media can also be used as a really powerful tool for sharing stories and reaching people who might not otherwise engage with these issues. It gives us a space to humanize experiences and make them visible at a scale that wasn’t possible before. The challenge is figuring out how to use these platforms not just to get attention for a moment, but to actually build connection and understanding that last beyond a single news cycle.

How does this translate into policy? 

Ultimately, I do think that public opinion matters for policy. The way people feel about migration or refugees — whether they see them as part of the community or as outsiders — shapes which policies are politically possible. And today, public opinion is shaped more than ever by social media. It’s not just voters who are influenced by online narratives; policymakers and donors are too. That’s why empathy and communication are central to policymaking, as social media now plays such a major role in shaping how both the public and those in power think and respond.

Can you tell me more about your work at the Immigration Policy Lab? 

I just joined as Faculty Co-Director and am currently leading two key projects focused on migration and development, particularly in the Global South. 

One major area is climate migration, understanding how environmental shocks affect migration decisions. The people most vulnerable to climate change are often the poorest. We’re trying to understand how they perceive risk, what strategies they use to survive, and when migration becomes an option. We’re currently raising funds to collect data in places like Colombia and rural Guatemala.

Another big project focuses on return migration, looking at people who have been expelled or deported, as well as those who self-deport. We’re building partnerships with organizations like Mercy Corps and the IRC to study how they reintegrate, what challenges they face, and whether existing programs are actually helping.

What have been some of the most challenging aspects of conducting research in this field, and how did you overcome them?

I would say interest and funding. Studying migrant integration is not popular these days; it feels like everyone is obsessed with AI or how technology can solve problems. That also creates challenges with funding and resources, especially from federal sources, because projects like ours require long-term fieldwork and collaboration, which are expensive and time-intensive. 

That said, I’ve been really fortunate to find a strong community and support system here at Stanford and at CDDRL. Being part of this environment has enabled me to connect with others who care about these issues and to find the resources needed to keep the work going.
 

What gaps still need to be addressed in this research, and what do you hope to study in the future?

I think a big gap that hasn’t been studied enough is who actually engages with empathy-based initiatives in the first place. We know that when people are asked to imagine themselves in someone else’s shoes, they become more open and inclusive. But who is voluntarily clicking on those websites or reading those stories? Probably people who already care. That’s a limitation, because it means we might just be reinforcing empathy among those who already have it.

What I’d love to study next is how to reach people who don’t. People who avoid these stories or who hold more exclusionary views. What kinds of messages or media could reach them? Could framing, visuals, or certain messengers make a difference? Understanding that is crucial for figuring out how to scale empathy beyond its existing audiences.

If you had to give one piece of advice to students who want to get involved in this kind of research, what would it be?

Take my class next quarter! We talk about all sorts of issues related to migration and inclusion. But seriously, get involved early. Try to work as a research assistant, even on small projects. That’s how I got started, by working under a professor who brought me into areas and questions I didn’t think I’d be interested in. Those experiences can completely change your perspective and open doors you didn’t even know existed.

Lastly, what book would you recommend for students interested in a research career in your field?

I’ve heard very good things about The Truth About Immigration by Zeke Hernandez, which is more from an economist’s perspective, and I love Rafaela Dancygier’s Dilemmas of Inclusion, which looks at the challenges left-wing parties face in Europe. They’re the parties of inclusion, but they also have to navigate tensions when the groups they’re including hold more conservative social values. It’s a really interesting read for understanding how inclusion plays out in democratic politics.

Adida’s work highlights how understanding the human side of migration through empathy and perspective-taking can lead to more inclusive policies and stronger communities worldwide.

We are pleased to share the publication of a new volume, Cold War Refugees: Connected Histories of Displacement and Migration across Postcolonial Asia, edited by the Korea Program's Yumi Moon, associate professor in Stanford's Department of History.

The book, now available from Stanford University Press, revisits Cold War history by examining the identities, cultures, and agendas of the many refugees forced to flee their homes across East, Southeast, and South Asia due to the great power conflict between the US and the USSR. Moon's book draws on multilingual archival sources and presents these displaced peoples as historical actors in their own right, not mere subjects of government actions. Exploring the local, regional, and global contexts of displacement through five cases —Taiwan, Vietnam, Korea, Afghanistan, and Pakistan — this volume sheds new light on understudied aspects of Cold War history.

The book's chapters — written by Phi-Vân Nguyen, Dominic Meng-Hsuan Yang, Yumi Moon, Ijlal Muzaffar, Robert D. Crews, Sabauon Nasseri, and Aishwary Kumar — explore Vietnam's 1954 partition, refugees displaced from Zhejiang to Taiwan, North Korean refugees in South Korea from 1945–50, the Cold War legacy in Karachi, and Afghan refugees.

Purchase Cold War Refugees at www.sup.org and receive 20% off with the code MOON20.