In the final weeks of 2025, two German words dominate the national conversation: 'stadtbild' and 'Haftbefehl'. The first, meaning 'cityscape', has become a political flashpoint since Chancellor Friedrich Merz used it in a speech on 14 October. 'We have come far with migration,' he said, 'but of course we still have this problem in our stadtbild.' Critics accused him of a racist dog-whistle, while the far-right AfD seized on the ambiguity to promote their 'remigration' agenda.
The second word, 'Haftbefehl', is the stage name of Aykut Anhan, one of Germany's most influential rappers. His Netflix documentary, 'Babo – The Haftbefehl Story', shot to the top of the streaming charts, praised for its raw depiction of addiction, trauma and mental illness. Anhan, the son of Turkish and Zaza-Kurdish parents, built his career on lyrics that fuse German, Turkish, Zazaki and English, chronicling life on the margins.
The coincidence is telling: at the very moment the ruling party frames belonging as an aesthetic question, the nation is captivated by an artist whose work is born from exclusion. Anhan's music channels the resentment of those who feel unwanted in their own country. 'Human values don’t count, just your shiny Mercedes,' he raps in one track; 'Fuck your integration, I’ll pop a bullet straight into your skull,' in another.
Merz's 'stadtbild' rhetoric, critics argue, dehumanises people of colour by reducing them to visual 'problems' in an idealised cityscape. His refusal to clarify the comments has only deepened the divide. Meanwhile, Haftbefehl's success underscores a paradox: Germany embraces the aesthetics of migrant life but not the people who create it.
