In the summer of 2023, after searching ‘Chemnitz, Saxony’ on Google, one would discover hundreds of results reporting far-right extremist riots, Neo-Nazi underground collectives, and prolific anti-immigration sentiments proudly posted on public forums.
The millions of pixels flooding this internet page reflect the worldwide media coverage of increasingly threatening political developments in Germany. Why, then, has Chemnitz—struggling under the weight of an internationally notorious reputation—become the European Cultural Capital for 2025? Furthermore, how did I find myself living in this culturally and politically turbulent city during my year abroad?
As a language student, I arrived in Germany expecting to achieve complete fluency. Armed with two years of translation seminars and speaking exams, I was confident that this would be the year I mastered the German language. Little did I know that language would be the least daunting challenge.
Indeed, walking around the former East German industrial city, which I had begun to call home, I was struck with a profound sense of unease. Seemingly desolate and empty of young people or any semblance of liveliness, I wandered through this drowsy city, thoroughly regretting my decision to move abroad. What had made me believe that I could integrate into a city, mostly untouched by modernity, with an increasingly ageing population, where 32.2% of eligible voters aligned themselves with Alternative für Deutschland (AfD) in the most recent German election?
One lonely afternoon shortly after my arrival, I happened across an Instagram post celebrating the urban partnership between Chemnitz and Manchester. Unknowingly, I had moved to one of ten of Manchester’s sister cities. Amidst metropolises such as Los Angeles and Wuhan, Chemnitz has nestled itself into the list of Manchester’s sister cities for the past forty years, remaining largely unnoticed. However unlikely, similarities between the two cities slowly became more obvious to me the longer I lived in Chemnitz.
The industrial complexes and housing estates in Chemnitz did indeed resemble those of northern Manchester, and the skyline—with its various brick chimney stacks towering above the residential homes—felt akin to those found in Ancoats. While Manchester’s mills and factories have been renovated into living spaces, bars, and gyms for the empowered young professional, those in Chemnitz stand empty, on the city’s edge, frozen in time.
To celebrate the cities’ 40th anniversary of their partnership and in preparation for Chemnitz’s year to shine in 2025, an artistic and cultural exchange was hosted in both cities, funded in part by Manchester City Council. Organized by the Manchester-based non-profit art collective Proforma in collaboration with Chemnitz’s festival organizer Begegnungen, artists from both cities spent two weeks documenting their experiences through various mediums.
I had the opportunity to catch up with some of the Mancunian artists during their placement in Chemnitz. I sat down with artist Astarte Cara in her exhibition space. The walls were freshly painted white in preparation for the exhibition and, at that point, were bare.
“The proposal I had coming here was to explore the industrial connection between Manchester and Chemnitz,” she said. “There are so many similarities, especially with the textile factories.”
It’s true: like Manchester, Chemnitz has been a major hub for woven goods production since the 16th century, intended for international export. Cara continued, “We’ve developed a series of work related to memory, specifically the textile workers in Chemnitz who aren’t there anymore. Kind of like folklore, a story that’s there but not quite at the forefront of people’s minds. I really like going to explore places that have been forgotten.”
“Forgotten” is an apt word for Chemnitz. Once named Karl-Marx-Stadt in the German Democratic Republic (GDR), its identity—like many former East German cities—was left in limbo after reunification. Rapid economic expansion and its renaming further complicated its cultural narrative. Many residents feel left behind by these socio-economic shifts, fostering a sense of Ostalgie—a nostalgia for the GDR. The marginalization of former East German citizens has pushed vulnerable voters toward extremist parties, seeking an outlet for frustrations over their place in modern Germany.
The longer I lived in Chemnitz, the more I began to wonder how important the Manchester-Chemnitz sisterhood was for the survival of the city. On one hand, projects like Begegnungen x Proforma seem like a weak attempt at unity amidst a sea of angry, forgotten East German voices. On the other hand, they appear to throw a lifeline to creatives invested in arts and culture.
Speaking from personal experience, the people I met during this exchange shaped my view of the city for the better. Whilst the rise of the AfD remians distressing, I began to view cultural and artistic institutions as vital tools for combating hate at a local level. Confronting a political climate unlike that of Manchester deepened my understanding of my own values—and those I opposed.
Today, a Google search for ‘Chemnitz’ yields much different results. Instead of visuals of extremist mobs cluttering the screen, URLs for ‘The 10 Best Things To Do in Chemnitz’ bombard the screen, overshadowing the city’s ambiguous past. Whether Chemnitz’s status as the European Capital for Culture in 2025 can positively impact its stigmatized reputation remains to be seen. However, considering the recent German elections, it’s safe to say that Chemnitz’s entanglement with extremism is likely here to stay.
