Welcome to Germany? Country at odds over refugee influx

Bucking the chaos of Europe's overwhelmed border crossings, the precise movement of asylum seekers into Germany from Salzburg is a rare example of order.

Given the souring atmosphere these days, you don't often hear anyone in Germany discussing the merits of such a well-organized crossing process. Still, it is something to behold.

The last hurdle to the asylum seekers' most coveted destination is a short walkway that straddles a river. The gate on the Austrian side opens only after German police have sent word via radio.

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Only a handful can cross at any one time, led by police escort.

The travellers and their belongings are meticulously checked by German police in masks and protective suits. They are then put on police buses and driven into the state of Bavaria.

This goes on 24 hours a day. And that's the part that infuriates Florian Hermann.

"We really try the very best to take care of everyone who comes to Germany who seeks help as a refugee in an orderly manner," said Hermann, an MP in Bavaria's parliament.

"But … we cannot go on like this for a couple more months," he says. "We need to limit the influx."

As the number of asylum seekers in Germany continues to swell, what were at first quiet grumblings have now become angry public protestations.

The Bavarian government has threatened legal action if Chancellor Angela Merkel's government fails to act. A chorus of others has also chimed in.

In a newspaper interview, Germany's police union chief recommended building a border fence to stop the influx. Others rail about the security implications and the challenges of integrating so many Muslims.

Germans find themselves increasingly at odds with each other, and are now in the throes of an uncomfortable conversation they cannot avoid.

The early scenes of Germans standing at train stations applauding the asylum seekers have turned into a scramble to make it all work.

Testing Hamburg's resolve

The vast majority of Germans is still welcoming, says Christiana Kant, who works for a state organization that helps house the homeless in the northern city of Hamburg.

Donations are still flowing in, and there are so many volunteers it takes a special effort just to organize them.

But there is no question, she says, that the arrival of 500 to 600 people a day is testing her city's resolve.

Hamburg is running out of places to house asylum seekers. It has deployed old supermarkets and gyms and has three sites with tents to temporarily put up 1,200 people. The port city is also transforming plain metal shipping containers into permanent housing.

During a recent tour of one such pop-up neighbourhood, Kant lists the positives — that residents have rooms and a kitchen, likely for the first time since they left home, and most importantly, they have an address.

But the containers assembled here only accommodate about 210. The challenges of housing the others make Kant uneasy.

What keeps her up at night? The prospect that Germany's so-called Wilkommenskultur is waning.

"The biggest worry is that it doesn't work out, that (Germans) are no longer welcoming people," she says. "This is the biggest challenge that we have to cope [with] – that it doesn't turn into the other extreme."

Backlash

There are growing signs that may already be happening.

Last month, a Cologne mayoral candidate known to be "pro-refugee" was stabbed.

German police warned it may not be a one-off, that politicians could increasingly be targeted for holding similar views.

They have also released alarming statistics on attacks against refugee shelters.

There have been nearly 600 in 2015, many caused by suspected arson. In an early sign of growing disapproval, Chancellor Merkel was heckled as a traitor at one of those centres.

Perhaps most alarming to the authorities is the resurgence of right-wing rallies after months of dormancy.

The Pegida movement (short for the Patriotic Europeans against the Islamisation of the West) rallied thousands to the streets in Dresden last month. Last week, several dozen supporters gathered in Munich, the Bavarian city that plays at least temporary host to most asylum seekers arriving in Germany.

"Europe is burning," one protester told CBC News. "The stakes for Europe are very bad."

Police watched closely as they marched. A similar-sized group of counter-protesters shouted, "Nazi out!"

The rallies are regularly drawing individuals who are hyper-sensitive to any reminder of Germany's Nazi past. In Cologne, many counter-protesters arrived to drown out the ones shouting "Foreigners out!" Dozens of officers were injured in clashes.

The verbal war is carried out on the street and online. Merkel's image — often carried by grateful refugees en route — has been doctored to put her in a hijab (again).

In Hamburg, high on a graffiti-adorned walk-up, a banner hung below a window with a pointed message.

"F--- Pegida," it says.

Transit zones

Hermann says not all critics of Germany's generous refugee policy are right-wing extremists, and insists the distinction must be made.

Even among those who see the value in taking in so many arrivals, there is concern that Germany's embrace has been too generous.

Merkel has tried to address the criticism — it was partly in response that the German government set up the border control near Salzburg.

Her government has fast-tracked laws that reduce benefits to asylum seekers and speed up deportations of failed claimants.

The government also plans to establish so-called transit zones in which asylum seekers can be vetted before they enter the country.

Hermann approves of these changes, but insists the government must also slow the influx.

"If the numbers still increase, it will be very difficult to integrate all those people and that's one of the worries that our citizens [have] that we take very seriously."

Encouraging interaction

Kant says integration will be easier if Germans simply interact with the newcomers.

One example is Stephan Fehrenbach, a volunteer who shows up at the container community on the odd Sunday to invite residents to an all-German activity: watching soccer outdoors.

On a recent afternoon, he managed to convince four young men to come along. As they walk together to the field, Fehrenbach lends an ear and chats with them about life in Germany.

He says he was inspired by a short stint of living in Canada.

"Everybody [there] says 'Welcome to Canada!' and they smile and I try to give that to the people here: 'Welcome to Germany. And welcome and be a part of our society,'" he says.

"It is not an easy way, but if we don't talk with each other, it's a hard way. And if we talk, it gets easier."