A Personal Tribute to Our Colleague Christina Günther

Whenever you spoke with Christina Günther, it always felt like more than just a simple exchange of words. There was something undeniably calming yet clarifying about being in her presence. There were no grand gestures or attempts to attract attention, just a quiet, attentive interest that made you feel truly seen. Just one word from her could carry more weight and meaning than an entire conversation. She was there. She was always present, something we could not take for granted.

Her warmth was immediately apparent to anyone around her. Her openness, so characteristic of the people of the Rhineland. Her friendly smile and sense of humor—light-hearted but never trivial. She had a way of creating a positive atmosphere wherever she was. Whether it was a simple conversation or a professional meeting, she always remained entirely herself. Her seriousness was never a burden in the room. She was calm, attentive, and completely present. When speaking with her, it was clear that she was truly listening. Her curiosity was genuine, her interest palpable. Her presence was undeniably powerful, not because she was loud, but rather because she felt deeply.

Her attentiveness and reliability revealed themselves equally in her academic collaborations as well as in the everyday work she conducted with colleagues from all areas of the university. In her interactions, she was dependable without ever being imposing. Christina was unreservedly kind. She could laugh, certainly—and that laugh came from a place rarely encountered in academic life: a place where gentleness and sharpness hold each other in balance. Her thinking was clear and persuasive. She had long ago decided not to be swept up by the fashionable, the loud, or the overly dramatic.  Even if the more uncomfortable path was the right one, she chose it willingly. She remained true to herself, which made her credible.

She was determined to make connections: between theory and practice, academia and business, institutions and their surrounding regions. She did not do this to manage networks or optimize structures; she did this because she cared about real, lasting relationships. She was interested in people, not profiles. Trust, not buzzwords. She listened, remembered, stayed in touch. Her actions were rooted in personal connection, openness, and reliability. And they bore fruit. And they continue to do so today.

Christina’s understanding of science was clear, analytical, and open to ongoing developments. She saw research not as a stage on which to perform, but rather as a shared opportunity to tackle meaningful questions—and as a space where the unconventional could also find its place. She supported, guided, and allowed things to grow—without fuss and without show. She had a knack for spotting the unusual, the not yet fully formed, and that which was impossible to capture in charts and databases. She knew that was where new insights often emerge.

She was not the type to step aside when things became uncomfortable. On the contrary. When responsibility was being allocated, she was already there—with a plan and a clear thought. And sometimes with a dry remark that put things back into proper perspective.

She leaves behind an empty space that, even if it does not draw attention to itself, is unmistakably present. In conversation, in meetings, in those moments in-between, and even in the corridors. We fondly remember a colleague whose work was not aimed at external impact. And yet, she herself had a hugely positive impact. Her influence can still be seen in our work, our thinking, and the way we interact.