GOERLITZ, Germany, 8 October 2003 — When Rolf Karbaum was born on the eastern bank of the Neisse River in Goerlitz in 1940, he was firmly in Germany. When Miroslaw Fiedorowicz was delivered in the same area 16 years later, it had become Poland.
Today, the two men are working together to reunite a city split in two when the German-Polish border shifted west to the Neisse after World War II and the eastern half of Goerlitz was awarded to Poland and renamed Zgorzelec.
With Poland set to join the European Union next May, Karbaum, mayor of Goerlitz, and Fiedorowicz, his counterpart in Zgorzelec, see their mutual birthplace at the heart of a reunified continent and want it to be a beacon of integration.
“You are in a place that is an ancient place of friction between peoples, where the borders have constantly changed, where cultures have mixed and rubbed up against each other,” Karbaum said. “I hope that left behind a certain foundation of tolerance which will carry us into the future.”
“We want to be one city across a border that has divided us for decades. This is an example of Europe growing together.”
Given persistent mutual suspicion and prejudice between Germans and Poles, Karbaum and Fiedorowicz admit theirs is no easy task. But they see no alternative to working together. A joint coordination committee meets once a month to discuss issues such as culture, sport, city planning, security, marketing and health. And Goerlitz and Zgorzelec are making a joint bid to be named European city of culture in 2010.
Polish shoppers make up half the turnover in many Goerlitz stores and Germans often cross the border for cheaper services.
Fiedorowicz said that while signs warning against theft in Polish used to be common in Goerlitz, they had since been replaced with notices welcoming Polish customers: “Economics has contributed to a change in attitude,” he said.
But resentment runs deep. Many of Goerlitz’s older residents were expelled from eastern German territories that became Polish after the war. Zgorzelec was resettled by Poles, like Fiedorowicz’s parents, from areas handed to the Soviet Union.
Germans fear that an easing of border controls after Poland joins the EU will mean more crime and competition for jobs.
Christal Mueller fled to Goerlitz during the war from the German province of Pomerania, most of which became Polish.
“I am not exactly enthusiastic about Poland. All the drugs that are sold outside the school come from there,” she said.
Renate Hempel, 53, who runs a small bakery in Goerlitz, said Poles stole her daughter’s car: “Many will come and work here. People are worried. They are our jobs. Young people will leave.”
Described in the Encyclopaedia Britannica of 1911 as “one of the handsomest and ... one of the wealthiest towns in Germany”, the elegant settlement that escaped the war largely unscathed fell into disrepair under Communism on both sides of the river.
For centuries a thriving hub at the intersection of ancient European trade routes, Goerlitz and Zgorzelec became isolated outposts behind the Iron Curtain, a position reinforced after Germany unified and the EU’s external border moved east.
Goerlitz’s population has dropped from 90,000 in 1960 to 60,000 now. The average age is 44 and rising. With a jobless rate of 23 percent well over double the national average, young people are leaving en masse; 10,000 apartments are empty.
Although laws prohibit Poles from living in Germany without a job, Karbaum said he hoped exceptions could be made so people from Zgorzelec could move to empty homes in Goerlitz.
Noting that a journey across the river that should take just 15 minutes lasted 72 hours for a truck whose goods had to be checked through customs, Karbaum said he could not wait for the border with Poland to fall completely. “May 1 next year, with the EU membership of Poland, is a day of hope,” he said. “On that day the situation in this city will change decisively and we will lie in the middle of Europe.”
Next year should also see the completion of a new bridge over the Neisse from Goerlitz’s historic center to replace one blown up by the retreating Nazis at the end of the war.
Building bridges between ordinary Poles and Germans will take much longer. Although German-Polish marriages are on the rise and sport, church and music groups bring people together, very few people are bilingual.
One of the few who is, Anna Rebiger, 30, a Pole working on a joint city development project, says creating trust is a slow process: “People are very closed and structures are too rigid. It takes a lot of time before people join in.”
Although Karbaum and Fiedorowicz can communicate directly only by resorting to Russian, they try to set a good example by often meeting privately with their families.
“We do not deal with our problems as a German and a Pole, but as citizens of one city,” Fiedorowicz said. “We hope that our cooperation shows that these barriers can be overcome.”
