AfD Rise Tests Germanys Political Firewall

The Rising Tide of the AfD in Eastern Germany

Nearly one in five voters cast their ballot for the Alternative for Germany (AfD) in Sunday’s election, propelling the far-right party to its strongest-ever result. With 20.8% of the national vote, the AfD now stands as the second-largest political force in the country, trailing only the Christian Democratic Union (CDU). Meanwhile, the party’s dominance in eastern states like Thuringia, Saxony, and Saxony-Anhalt—where it secured 34% to 38.6% of votes—has intensified debates over Germany’s decades-old political “firewall” against far-right collaboration.

Tino Chrupalla, the AfD’s co-leader, wasted no time framing the result as a mandate. “East Germans have made it clear they no longer want a firewall,” he declared, referencing the longstanding refusal of mainstream parties to engage with his party. Yet despite this surge, opposition to breaching the Brandmauer remains robust. A post-election survey by Infratest dimap revealed 69% of Germans still view the AfD as a threat to democracy, a sentiment echoed by leaders across the political spectrum.

Friedrich Merz, whose CDU clinched 28.6% of the vote—its second-worst postwar result—insisted the AfD’s rise stemmed from unresolved issues like migration and economic stagnation. “Solve these problems, and the AfD vanishes,” he argued. However, his rhetoric clashes with reality: Infratest dimap estimates over a million former CDU voters defected to the AfD this election, drawn by its hardline stance on immigration and cultural identity.

Challenges to the Political Firewall

The firewall’s durability now faces unprecedented strain. While Merz has ruled out formal alliances with the AfD, his tactical reliance on their votes to pass a recent migration motion in parliament sparked widespread backlash. In January 2024, mass protests erupted in cities like Berlin and Leipzig, drawing half a million participants opposed to normalising far-right influence. Even so, grassroots pressure to engage with AfD representatives at local levels is mounting.

Take Mirko Geissler, a mayor from Saxony, who appeared on the popular talk show Harsh but Fair this week. “Excluding the AfD risks pushing them to 40-50% support,” he warned, advocating for their inclusion in governance to “test their competence.” Similarly, Liane Bach, an independent mayor in Thuringia, stressed that many AfD voters are not extremists but citizens frustrated with mainstream neglect. Her anecdote about an AfD councillor repairing a village fountain underscored the paradox: shunning local collaboration often seems counterproductive.

Phillip Amthor, a CDU lawmaker, cautiously echoed this view. “No firewalls should exist between democratic parties and AfD voters,” he conceded, reflecting a growing unease within his party about alienating a significant voter bloc. Yet the line between engaging constituents and legitimising extremism remains perilously thin. The AfD’s embrace of “remigration”—a term co-opted by far-right groups to justify mass deportations—has done little to assuage concerns. Although the party claims it targets only criminal migrants, critics note the policy’s roots in extremist rhetoric.

Migration and Security: Core Issues Driving Voter Sentiment

Three high-profile attacks in 2023—including a knife assault in Dresden that left six dead—sharpened public anxiety over immigration and security. All three incidents involved foreign-born suspects, galvanising the AfD’s narrative of a nation under threat. By election day, exit polls showed 42% of AfD voters ranked migration as their top concern, compared to 18% prioritising the economy.

This focus on security has resonated deeply in eastern Germany, where economic disparities and demographic decline fuel resentment. Since reunification in 1990, the east has lost nearly two million residents to western states, creating pockets of stagnation that the AfD deftly exploits. In regions like Görlitz, where unemployment hovers at 8.5%—double the national average—the party’s pledges to prioritise “Germans first” have struck a chord.

Bavaria’s leader, Markus Söder, framed the urgency starkly: addressing migration and economic decline is “the last bullet of democracy.” His warning reflects broader fears within the CDU that failure to tackle these issues head-on could cede further ground to the AfD. Yet the party’s internal divisions complicate matters. While Merz advocates stricter borders, others, like General Secretary Tom Unger, insist collaboration with a party opposed to NATO and EU integration is “incompatible with our core DNA.”

Internationally, the AfD’s ascent has drawn applause from figures like Elon Musk and former Trump adviser JD Vance, who laud it as a bulwark against “globalist elites.” Conversely, European leaders, including France’s Emmanuel Macron, have expressed alarm, fearing a domino effect on the continent’s political stability.

Youth, Disillusionment, and the AfD’s Social Media Machine

A striking shift in the AfD’s voter base has emerged: younger demographics now form a growing share of its support. Polls from February 2025 reveal 17% of men under 35 identify as AfD “supporters,” compared to just 6% of women in the same age group. This gender gap, while notable, pales against broader trends. Since 2020, the party’s support among under-35s has tripled, driven by savvy social media campaigns on platforms like TikTok and Instagram.

Celina Brychcy, a 26-year-old pro-AfD influencer with 450,000 followers, typifies this strategy. Her videos, blending anti-migration rhetoric with memes about energy costs, regularly go viral, reaching audiences mainstream parties struggle to engage. Meanwhile, distrust in traditional media runs deep among AfD supporters: over half rate their trust in news outlets as 3 out of 10 or lower, according to a Deltapoll survey. In contrast, 68% consume political content primarily through social media, where the AfD’s messaging dominates unchecked.

The party’s digital success masks a deeper generational pessimism. A staggering 57% of AfD voters believe today’s children will be poorer than their parents—a stark departure from postwar Germany’s ethos of upward mobility. Economic stagnation, marked by two consecutive years of GDP contraction in 2023 and 2024, exacerbates this gloom. Energy prices, up 22% since 2022, compound frustrations, particularly in eastern regions where disposable incomes lag 15% behind the west.

Image Credit - Foreign Policy

Climate Scepticism and the Green Policy Divide

While migration dominates headlines, the AfD’s rise also hinges on opposing Germany’s green transition. The party capitalised on public backlash against the coalition government’s 2023 ban on new gas boilers, a policy that sparked protests in rural areas. Unlike far-right peers in France or Italy, AfD supporters uniquely reject climate science: 63% dismiss the idea of human-driven global warming, compared to 41% of National Rally voters.

This stance resonates in deindustrialising zones like Saxony-Anhalt, where wind farm projects face fierce local opposition. “People feel lectured, not listened to,” argues AfD MEP Maximilian Krah, whose constituency includes the lignite-mining region of Lusatia. Here, the party’s pledge to revive coal jobs clashes with EU climate targets, yet wins applause in towns where unemployment nears 10%.

Mainstream parties grapple with balancing ecological goals and voter alienation. The Greens, once polling at 20%, slumped to 12% in 2025—their worst result since 2019. CDU attempts to rebrand as “climate realists” have fared little better. As Merz promotes nuclear energy revival, critics accuse him of echoing AfD talking points. “The centre is copying the far right’s playbook,” warns Green leader Ricarda Lang, “and normalising their ideas.”

Coalition Instability and the Spectre of Early Elections

Germany’s political fragmentation raises the risk of another premature election. The CDU-SPD coalition talks, ongoing since Sunday, hit immediate snags over migration policy. Merz demands a cap of 200,000 asylum seekers annually—a 60% drop from 2022 levels—while SPD leader Lars Klingbeil insists on upholding EU refugee quotas. With neither side compromising, deadlock looms.

Alice Weidel, the AfD’s parliamentary leader, openly relishes the chaos. “This government won’t last a year,” she declared on Monday, echoing her call for snap elections. Her confidence stems from precedent: the 2021 collapse of Angela Merkel’s coalition triggered a vote that boosted the AfD’s seat count by 24. Historians note parallels to the Weimar Republic’s instability, though commentators caution against direct comparisons.

The prospect of AfD participation in government, while remote nationally, grows plausible in eastern states. In Thuringia, where the party holds 38% of seats, CDU state leader Mario Voigt faces mounting pressure to negotiate. “Democracy requires dialogue,” he conceded last week, signalling a potential softening of the firewall. Such moves alarm centrists: Thuringia’s domestic intelligence agency has classified the local AfD branch as “extremist” since 2021, citing ties to neo-Nazi groups.

International Reactions and the European Context

Germany’s political tremors reverberate across the EU. French President Emmanuel Macron convened an emergency meeting on Tuesday, urging bloc-wide measures to counter far-right gains. His proposal for a “democratic solidarity pact” received mixed responses, with Italian Prime Minister Giorgia Meloni dismissing it as “hysteria.” Meanwhile, AfD leaders courted Hungary’s Viktor Orbán, whose Fidesz party endorsed their “remigration” policy as a “model for Europe.”

Across the Atlantic, the AfD’s success emboldens US conservatives. JD Vance, campaigning for Trump’s 2024 bid, praised the party for “defending national sovereignty.” Elon Musk amplified AfD content 14 times on X (formerly Twitter) this month, calling Merz’s firewall “undemocratic.” Such endorsements unsettle Berlin policymakers, who fear foreign interference in Germany’s domestic affairs.

Back home, the CDU’s Tom Unger remains defiant. “Collaborating with anti-NATO, anti-EU forces is unthinkable,” he stated on Wednesday. Yet with the AfD polling at 23% nationally—a 4-point jump since Sunday—the firewall’s future hinges on whether mainstream parties can address the crises fuelling its rise.

Image Credit - BBC

Historical Echoes and the AfD’s Ideological Roots

The AfD’s rapid evolution from a Eurosceptic faction to a far-right powerhouse mirrors broader European trends, yet its ideological roots remain uniquely tethered to Germany’s postwar anxieties. Founded in 2013 by economists like Bernd Lucke to oppose eurozone bailouts, the party pivoted sharply under leaders such as Alexander Gauland and Björn Höcke. Gauland, now 78, once dismissed the Nazi era as “bird’s muck” in Germany’s history, while Höcke infamously called Berlin’s Holocaust memorial a “monument of shame.”

These remarks, widely condemned as revisionist, underscore the party’s fraught relationship with Germany’s reckoning with its past. In 2016, Gauland sparked outrage by claiming Germans “wouldn’t want a Boateng as a neighbour,” referencing footballer Jérôme Boateng, whose father is Ghanaian. Such rhetoric, coupled with the party’s 2017 pledge that “Islam does not belong to Germany,” cements its image as a vehicle for ethnonationalism.

The AfD’s Institutional Battlegrounds

Efforts to curb the AfD’s influence face legal and political hurdles. In 2021, Thuringia’s intelligence agency designated its regional branch “extremist,” citing ties to groups like Pegida, which staged anti-Islam marches in Dresden. Yet attempts to ban the party nationally falter: Germany’s constitutional court requires overwhelming evidence of anti-democratic aims, a high bar given the AfD’s parliamentary presence.

Meanwhile, the party entrenches itself locally. In villages like Tröglitz, Saxony-Anhalt, AfD councillors now oversee budgets and public services, blurring lines between mainstream governance and far-right agendas. “They fix roads and spread xenophobia simultaneously,” notes Matthias Quent, a far-right expert at the University of Jena. This duality complicates efforts to isolate the party, particularly in regions where state neglect fuels reliance on AfD-driven initiatives.

The Future of the Firewall: A Test for German Democracy

As coalition talks drag on, the firewall’s fragility becomes increasingly apparent. Merz’s CDU, haemorrhaging voters to the AfD, faces a dilemma: adopt harder lines on migration to recapture support, or risk legitimising far-right narratives. The SPD, meanwhile, struggles to balance progressive ideals with voter demands for security.

For now, the firewall holds. In March 2025, CDU general secretary Tom Unger reiterated that collaboration with the AfD remains “incompatible with our values.” Yet with eastern states like Saxony-Anhalt nearing political paralysis, pressure to engage grows. Political scientist Conrad Ziller warns: “Exclusion fuels resentment; inclusion normalises extremism. There’s no easy path.”

The AfD, sensing opportunity, escalates its demands. Alice Weidel’s call for early elections aims to capitalise on CDU-SPD discord, while Höcke’s Flügel faction agitates for deeper EU scepticism. Their goal: erode the firewall brick by brick, leveraging voter disillusionment and institutional fatigue.

Conclusion: A Nation at a Crossroads

Germany stands at a pivotal juncture. The AfD’s meteoric rise reflects profound societal fractures—economic stagnation, cultural anxiety, and generational disillusionment. Yet its ascent also tests the resilience of postwar democratic norms. As mainstream parties scramble to address root causes, the firewall’s fate hinges on a precarious balance: confronting extremism without alienating millions who feel unheard.

The coming months will prove decisive. Should Merz’s coalition collapse, as many predict, the AfD’s path to power could shorten dramatically. Conversely, a renewed focus on economic revival and integration may yet stem the far-right tide. For now, one reality remains clear: the Brandmauer, once sacrosanct, now faces its greatest challenge since 1945.