The Small-Town Disputes That Fuel Germany’s Far Right
GÖRLITZ, Germany—Near the center of this picturesque city on Germany’s eastern border with Poland sits an idyllic park square called Wilhelmsplatz. A large field of lush grass is ringed on all sides by colorful, carefully manicured flowers; benches line the edges of the square, and a large memorial occupies one end. On a nice afternoon, families sit on blankets, their children laughing and playing together; nearby, people lounge on benches reading or listening to music.
But recently residents of the stately houses surrounding the park have complained that it’s become too loud and unruly at night. Young people drink and blast music past 10 p.m., they say; families let their children play late into the evening, and kids kick soccer balls through the perfectly maintained flowers.
The kerfuffle over Wilhelmsplatz sounds like a typical local dispute—at least until you learn that some residents blamed the city’s small community of refugees and immigrants for the disruptions. As a result, Wilhelmsplatz, and Görlitz more broadly, have become a kind of symbol of the polarized debate about open societies, tolerance, and integration.
On a broader level, what is for the populist far-right Alternative for Germany (AfD)—is similar to the debate that is playing out in cities and towns across eastern Germany. Voters here in Saxony, as well as in neighboring Brandenburg, handed the AfD significant victories in state elections on Sunday: the party won and , making them the second-strongest force in both states. On October 27 in Thuringia, another of the five former East German states, the party is also expected to do well.
