Where scars became a seam

On 15 September, 1947, a stark line of barbed wire sliced through the heart of Gorizia, as the Treaty of Paris between Italy and Yugoslavia split what had once been a single community in two.

Few residents believed the division would actually materialise until it became their new reality overnight. The hastily drawn border paid no heed to property lines or daily life, cutting through neighbourhoods and even bisecting the local cemetery, where families could visit their deceased loved ones only twice a month. Under cover of darkness, young men would move border markers in protest, prompting Allied troops to erect barbed wire fences and establish guard posts.

Yugoslavia’s response to losing Gorizia was audacious. In 1948, it mobilised more than 5,000 workers, mostly young Slovenians, to build what was initially conceived as a substitute for the lost territory. What began as merely an extension of the old would evolve into Nova Gorica, a distinct city with its own character, a mirror image that refused to be merely a reflection.

Now these sister cities are writing a new chapter in European history. In 2025, they will become the first cross-border communities to share the prestigious European Capital of Culture designation. “When we proposed this joint bid in 2017, we knew we were reaching for the impossible,” says Rodolfo Ziberna, Gorizia’s mayor.

The designation, created in 1985 to celebrate European cultural diversity, has transformed more than 40 cities, often catalysing urban renewal and drawing international attention to lesser-known regions. For these border cities, it represents something more profound: a formal recognition of their quiet transformation from divided communities to partners in cultural innovation.

Tourism will likely surge, but local leaders are looking beyond 2025. They envision a future where visitors come not just for historical landmarks but for a unique cultural fusion where Slovenian and Italian influences merge seamlessly.

The real story, however, lies in the generational shift. While older residents can still recount tales of division, younger generations move freely between the cities, populating cafes and bars on both sides. “Young people view this as history,” observes Samo Turel, mayor of Nova Gorica. “They don’t look at these questions through an ideological prism.”

Perhaps nowhere is this evolution more evident than in the changing patterns of language and education. While Mr Turel’s generation learned Italian from television and cartoons, today’s youth often communicate in English. More striking still is the growing number of Italian families choosing Slovenian-language schools in Gorizia, drawn by both the quality of education and the recognition that bilingualism represents an asset in modern Europe.

The influence of young people extends far beyond cultural exchange. “They are the driving force behind many initiatives submitted to our European Grouping of Territorial Cooperation’s Small Project Fund,” says Mr Ziberna. “When we develop policies for green spaces, environmental protection, universities, or industrial development, we do so with their perspectives in mind.”

Yet both cities face modern challenges. Young residents are leaving for opportunities elsewhere, and Nova Gorica struggles with a housing shortage as real estate prices soar. The University of Nova Gorica, founded through a partnership with the prestigious Jožef Stefan Institute, might offer a solution. Currently based in nearby Vipava, it plans to expand across both cities, potentially revitalising their urban cores.

The cities are also reinventing their economies, courting high-tech companies as traditional retail sectors decline. Via Rastello in Gorizia, once a bustling shopping street, now stands as a quiet reminder of changing times.

Luckily, the cooperation between the two municipalities is thoroughly practical. Nova Gorica already supplies drinking water to its Italian neighbor, and the mayors are discussing ways to share urban planning and infrastructure. With a combined population of around 60,000 residents, the two are questioning the necessity of duplicate facilities – from stadiums to swimming pools – on both sides of the border. The future, Mr Turel believes, lies in joint planning that would bring their communities even closer through shared infrastructure.

“What we want to communicate through our Cultural Capital programme is that while we acknowledge our history, we’re focused on addressing current challenges,” he explains. “Our gaze is firmly fixed on the future. This vision was recognized in our selection, and it’s what drives us forward.”

What started as a cultural partnership has evolved into a blueprint for cross-border cooperation. While older residents carry memories of division – each with a grandparent’s story of past tragedies – younger generations see only possibilities. “Let historians handle history,” Mr Turel says. “My children’s generation sees things completely differently from their grandparents. This is the only way forward: leaving the past to history and building a shared future together.”