Fear and hope in Wolfsburg, Germany’s wounded industrial heart | Economy

In the German city of Wolfsburg, an authentic capital At Volkswagen and the headquarters of the world’s largest car plant, there is a man who cares about the spiritual well-being of workers concerned about their future. His name is Dirk Wagner, he is 65 years old, and he is a Protestant pastor. “Maybe I can give some hope, because the message of the Bible is ultimately a message of hope,” says Volkswagen Shepherd. “My job is to listen first.” And these days he has a job.

A string of bad news for Volkswagen – possible plant closures, workforce cuts, wage cuts, falling profits – has sowed anxiety in this city of 128,000 people. And there’s Pastor Wagner, ready to help the auto giant’s employees who are bombarded with dire omens. Words are repeated around the factory to describe the atmosphere. “There is tension.” “People are worried.” “Fear.”

Here’s how things stand in Wolfsburg in a week when it became known that Volkswagen could close three of its ten German factories. That this will ultimately happen is not a fact. The news largely stems from the start of wage negotiations between the company and the powerful IG-Metall union. Agitating catastrophic scenarios is part of the negotiation ritual.

But the hypothesis of German factories closing for the first time in history or losing 10,000 or more jobs reflects a crisis whose mental – or spiritual – impact is felt as strongly in few places as in this “sad and gray” world. “The city,” as the assembly line worker describes it, a city that lives for and for Volkswagen. Uncertainty weighs on a workforce accustomed to absolute security in income and employment; about a place that is a showcase of prosperity and well-being.

At 14:00, during the shift, in front of gate 17 of the plant, a voice is heard: “I will only say one thing: “Shit.” This is said at the Tunnel Shank, a tavern at the entrance to the tunnel that runs under the canal that separates the factory from the rest of the city: “As a family, we feel betrayed.” And when they say “family”, it is clear that we are talking about Volkswagen family.

In the offices of the IG-Metal trade union they repeat the words: “Everything in this city and this region depends on Volkswagen.” In church: “Where will so many people find work if the factory closes?” And at the city hall: “In Wolfsburg, 60,000 people work at Volkswagen and 30,000 in related positions.” In the United States they said that “whatever General Motors does, so will America,” and the same could be said about Volkswagen and Germany. Also from Wolfsburg.

Founded by Hitler’s Germany and symbolizing the fabulous success of the Federal Republic after World War II, Wolfsburg is the country’s thermometer. “VW is more than a company: it represents Germany, in good and bad ways,” writes journalist Georg Meck in the book. Auto Macht Geld. Die Geschichte der Familie Porsche Piech. “It represents German engineering, the post-war economic miracle, the title of world export champion, and the crimes of the Nazis.”

Today, Volkswagen, with 120,000 employees in Germany, mirrors the country’s industrial crisis. Industry and exports are part of this country’s identity, but have now entered turbulence with a more protectionist world and a China capable of producing products cheaper and of increasingly higher quality. Moreover, it may be excluded from the race for innovation. In this case, an electric car.

“What times those were!” the tabloid wrote this week. Imagerecalling 1974, when VW launched the Golf, “the cornerstone of the global race, in addition to the Beetle and the hippie van.” “Today,” he added, “VW is in crisis and this is a symptom German disease

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“I have seen all the crises, ups and downs, but now the situation is critical,” says Giovanni, 54, the son of Sicilian immigrants. Immigration from southern Italy during the economic miracle played a fundamental role in the development of Wolfsburg. plant since 19 years. “This crisis is worse than previous ones. They used to say: VW costs a little more, but we make quality cars. Now I think that the quality of the other cars is at least at the same level and at a lower price.”

Says Catherine, the daughter of Spaniards, whose entire family works at the factory: “Given inflation, the crisis in Europe, the war… well, you won’t buy a car for 30,000 euros if you can buy it for 15,000.” She would never buy a car other than a VW – in Wolfsburg, 90% of the cars you see are from that brand – but she understands those who do.

“There is no city more connected to Volkswagen than Wolfsburg,” says Mayor Dennis Weilmann in his office. “The city has been around since the days of Volkswagen. And we benefit from Volkswagen, but without a doubt we are also particularly affected by situations like the one we are experiencing now.” Weilman’s father and grandparents worked for VW. For him, a factory, an imposing factory with chimneys dominating the landscape, is something intimate. Here everything moves at the pace of a VW: from private life to the football club. Without Wolfsburg you won’t understand VW; Without VW there will be no Wolfsburg, one of those cities that depends on industry. Like Detroit, an example of how the decline of one sector, automotive, can destroy a city.

When the mayor is asked if he is considering Detroit stageditch: “No, no. It can’t be compared. Together in Wolfsburg – Volkswagen and the local community – we have overcome many crises. And Volkswagen is a stable company that makes great cars. So as a company, I’m not concerned about this. “It’s about investing in the future.” He adds: “Wolfsburg is and will remain the heart and headquarters of Volkswagen SA in the future.”

“We are fighting to ensure that no plant closes,” says Steffen Schmidt of IG-Metall in the corridor of a football stadium, where a round of wage negotiations is about to begin in a conference room. Schmidt doesn’t want to say Detroita dirty word, but he says: “If we had thought about what would happen if VW closed down, we wouldn’t have been far behind it.”

Wolfsburg is a long way from Detroit, and Germany is, despite everything, the strength of its industry and robust welfare state from the United States. “I’m more afraid of the war in Ukraine than I am of Volkswagen,” says the man from the magazine. Exit 17. Others, when the journalist tells them about crisis situations, also ask about the news about the floods in Valencia. “It will take time until a ship as big as Volkswagen sinks,” says Spanish Catherine. “It gives you security.”

“People are a little depressed, afraid of losing their jobs,” says Bruno, a Calabrian native, former VW worker and owner of the Tunnel-Schänke tavern. To clients, he calls himself “doctor, lawyer, bartender, father, brother,” although less so now than in good times. I might also add that he has something of a priest or pastor like Dirk Wagner about him. “People here are sad,” he says, “and crying.”