The question of identity – particularly regional identity – is a complex one. It’s not something that can be forced, manufactured, or designed on a drawing board. Instead, a sense of belonging is rooted in the everyday realities of life: how people connect with one another, how opportunities are distributed, and how the state interacts with its citizens. As the German state of Hessen approaches its 80th anniversary, it finds itself grappling with this particularly question, and a recent decision to rebrand with a novel corporate identity has sparked debate about what truly defines the region.
Hessen’s search for a cohesive identity is not unique. Examining other German states offers insight into how collective self-perception can grab shape. Bavaria, for example, has cultivated a strong and readily recognizable identity through a carefully constructed “narrative architecture” of symbols, rituals, and landscapes. This approach fosters internal cohesion and projects a strong image externally, though it risks oversimplifying the region’s diversity. Baden-Württemberg, conversely, has historically defined itself through economic achievement – a focus on innovation, industry, and education – a strategy that promotes integration as long as economic stability prevails, but perhaps lacks a certain emotional resonance.
Rheinland-Pfalz, meanwhile, draws its identity heavily from its landscape and culinary traditions – its wine regions, rivers, and castles – and thrives on localized identities that sometimes outweigh a sense of statewide unity. A common thread emerges: symbols are helpful, but they only hold meaning when grounded in the lived experiences of the people they represent.
What does this mean for Hessen? The notion of “laptop and Lederhosen” – a blend of modernity and tradition – doesn’t easily translate into a “skyline and orchard” visual. Hessen, as it exists today, is a relatively young state, and its internal map is more functional than unified. The Rhine-Main region serves as a global economic hub and transportation node, while North Hessen maintains its own distinct character. Central Hessen occupies a space in between, and rural areas exhibit a diverse range of rhythms, and lifestyles. A search for a singular “Hessian identity” often comes up empty.
Hessen’s Strength Lies Not in the Illusion of a Homogeneous “Heimat”
A more plausible approach is to envision a sense of state consciousness rooted not in a shared dialect or unbroken tradition, but in the hallmarks of modern regional culture: overlapping affiliations, migration, commuting, exchange, and institutions that reliably hold this diversity together. Identity emerges when people locate themselves within a common order that they perceive as fair, understandable, and approachable.
Hessen’s strength, lies not in the illusion of a homogeneous “Heimat,” but in offering an open, outward-looking community. One can belong without being “from here,” because the state has been shaped by immigration, mobility, and internationalism for decades. This is the modern form of belonging that can be defended against appropriation from the right: not as “us against them,” but as “us with you.” Heimat as a bridge, not a border.
Against this backdrop, Hessen’s decision to introduce a new corporate design in its 80th anniversary year feels both logical and risky. Logical, because state communication genuinely benefits from being recognizable and consistent – on smartphones as well as on letterheads. Risky, because the symbolic risks overshadowing the substantive. A redesigned Hessen lion, a new variation of the Hessen typeface, a new color scheme – these can provide orientation, but only if the societal reality confirms them.
Is the Government Solving a Problem That Doesn’t Exist?
The rebranding could similarly damage trust if citizens feel that the focus is solely on surface-level polish while everyday experiences – unreliable public transportation, marginalized regions, dilapidated infrastructure, precarious public finances – remain unaddressed. The state should enable belonging, not claim it. It fosters a sense of community less through emblems than through equal living conditions, accessible public services, and cultural and educational opportunities that extend beyond the major centers.
In other words, the €290,000 that Hessen is spending on its modernized coat of arms, featuring a rather frayed lion, may be a comparatively small sum, especially when viewed in relation to the €6.2 billion the state is allocating to education this year. Nevertheless, the question arises whether the current CDU/SPD-led government is solving a problem that doesn’t exist.
Taste is subjective. But in times of competing priorities and austerity measures, a new Hessen lion destined for coffee mugs, commemorative wine, t-shirts, caps, ties, mugs, plates, and notepads feels like a giraffe in a tailored suit: conspicuous, expensive – and, at first glance, lacking any discernible purpose.
Is the State Thought of as a Brand, or as a Community?
Symbols are not meaningless. Buildings, squares, landscapes, and cultural landmarks make history tangible. Culinary specialties are not merely folklore, but social practices: sharing a meal is about more than just food. And prominent figures – from literature, science, industry, and art – can serve as anchors, provided they don’t devolve into self-congratulation, but rather as invitations: “This is part of our shared history, even if you’ve only recently arrived.” Hessen has a wealth of such anchors, but they are rarely woven into a narrative that extends beyond Frankfurt.
The crucial question, is not whether the new corporate design is “beautiful.” It’s about the underlying conception of cohesion. Is the state being thought of as a brand – or as a community of responsibility? For a state, identity is not merely an argument in location competition. It is a political resource. It can channel a sense of duty in the right direction, not through coercion, but through a willingness to participate, accept rules, and contribute to the common good. It stabilizes democracy in everyday life by offering a sense of belonging before resentment promises it.
identity is a priceless asset. Not because it shouldn’t be shaped – it must be, through education, culture, regional development, and a language of openness – but because it cannot be bought. One can redesign a lion, but one cannot decree that people feel at home. Heimat cannot be designed. It arises where symbolism and lived reality align, where it is not merely asserted, but lived.
For Hessen, this means that if the state truly wants to come together in its 80th year, the government must focus less on its heraldic animal and more on the conditions of life – reliable mobility, viable municipalities, modern schools, and an administration that reaches out to citizens rather than administering them. Then, the lion on the letterhead will not be an assertion, but a confirmation.
