Germany's Cultural Contradiction: Embracing Migrant Art While Questioning Migrant Presence
In the closing weeks of 2025, Germany finds itself grappling with a profound cultural paradox that has divided the nation and dominated political discourse. The simultaneous emergence of two powerful cultural forces – Chancellor Friedrich Merz's controversial comments about Germany's "stadtbild" and the overwhelming success of rapper Haftbefehl's Netflix documentary – has exposed deep tensions about identity, belonging and integration in modern Germany.
The Stadtbild Controversy That Shook Germany
The political storm began on 14 October when Chancellor Friedrich Merz delivered a speech in Brandenburg that would redefine German political conversation. Speaking about migration, Merz declared: "We have come far with migration, but of course we still have this problem in our stadtbild." The term "stadtbild," technically meaning "cityscape," immediately took on new political significance.
When pressed by journalists days later to clarify his remarks, Merz notably doubled down, telling reporters to "ask your daughters" what he meant while refusing to provide further explanation. This vague statement has since dominated Germany's political discourse for over a month, sparking widespread demonstrations and open letters condemning what critics describe as a racist dog-whistle.
The controversy has revealed significant divisions within German society. While public figures organised protests against the chancellor's comments, political talkshows featured politicians, actors and comedians rallying to Merz's defence. Meanwhile, the far-right Alternative for Germany (AfD) celebrated the free publicity ahead of next year's regional elections, finding ample space to connect Merz's ambiguous words to their vision of "remigration" – a far-right concept of mass deportation that critics equate with ethnic cleansing.
Haftbefehl: The Unlikely Cultural Hero
As the stadtbild debate raged, an entirely different cultural phenomenon was capturing the German public's imagination. Aykut Anhan, better known by his stage name Haftbefehl (meaning "arrest warrant"), returned to public view after nearly two years away with a Netflix documentary titled Babo – The Haftbefehl Story.
The son of a Turkish mother and Zaza-Kurdish father born in Offenbach, Hesse, Haftbefehl has built his career on brutally honest depictions of crime, trauma and survival. His unique artistic voice blends German, Turkish, Zazaki and English, creating a musical language that reflects Germany's multicultural reality.
The documentary provides an unflinching account of addiction, familial trauma in migrant families and mental illness within the German music industry. Despite – or perhaps because of – its raw honesty, the film immediately jumped to the top of Netflix Germany's charts, receiving widespread praise for both its film-making quality and emotional authenticity.
Art Born From Alienation Finds Mainstream Success
Haftbefehl's success story represents something rare in German cultural landscape. Unlike in the UK or France, artists from marginalised communities remain exceptions rather than rules in Germany's cultural mainstream. Haftbefehl has managed to become one of the few gangsta rappers embraced by Germany's cultural establishment while maintaining his roots in marginalised communities.
The timing of the documentary's success couldn't be more symbolic. At the precise moment when Germany's ruling party appears to be defining belonging as an aesthetic question – concerning who visually fits into the German landscape – the nation has become captivated by the story of a man whose entire artistic identity springs from experiences of exclusion.
It's difficult to ignore the irony that a figure like Aykut Anhan – a former small-time dealer from an urban estate battling addiction and depression – represents precisely the kind of person that Merz's stadtbild rhetoric seems to target. The documentary's success highlights Germany's complicated relationship with migrant culture: the nation appears to love the art born from alienation, but remains ambivalent about the people who create it.
This pattern of cultural appropriation without full acceptance manifests elsewhere in German society. Luxury kebab shops sell "elevated" versions of the Turkish-German staple with truffle and asparagus, Berlin DJs sample north African melodies, and influencers treat headscarves as summer accessories. The aesthetics of migrant life prove endlessly imitable, while the people behind them often remain suspect at best, and problems to be removed at worst.
The Educational Battle Over Cultural Representation
The tension between official culture and lived experience has spilled into Germany's education system. The student council in Offenbach – Haftbefehl's birthplace – has petitioned to include the rapper's music in school curricula to better reflect "post-migrant" identities and contemporary pop cultural debates.
However, Hesse's ministry of culture and education has rejected the proposal, citing Haftbefehl's "propensity for crime" and allegations of sexism and antisemitism. This rejection stands in stark contrast to student sentiment, with one student telling the Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung: "Haftbefehl is the answer to the stadtbild debate. I don't relate to Goethe or Kafka."
The students argue that including Haftbefehl's lyricism in school syllabuses would appeal to more students and ultimately help integrate them into German society – a poignant response to the ongoing integration debate.
Integration Questions Remain Unanswered
As Chancellor Merz continues to muse about a more German cityscape, fundamental questions about integration remain unresolved. What should genuine integration look like in modern Germany? Does the concept include perspectives of those pushed to comply, or does it remain a dead end for meaningful inclusion?
Most importantly, can those who don't fit Merz's picture of Germany ever feel truly at home there, regardless of how much they assimilate to often vague notions of Germanness?
One of the most moving scenes in Babo provides a potential answer. It shows Anhan sitting on the floor, singing along to traditional German singer-songwriter Reinhard Mey's In Meinem Garten. This quiet moment reveals a profound truth: here is a man who will forever be perceived as not belonging to the Chancellor's ideal stadtbild, yet someone who deeply shapes and is shaped by German culture, displaying distinctly German tastes and sensibilities.
The contrast between political rhetoric and cultural reality has never been starker in Germany. As the nation heads toward regional elections with the stadtbild debate still raging, and Haftbefehl's documentary continuing to attract viewers, Germany faces a crucial question about what – and who – truly constitutes its national identity in the 21st century.
