Germany stands at a crossroads, a nation once synonymous with
democratic stability now grappling with the tremors of political
upheaval. The dissolution of the Bundestag and the call for snap
elections on February 23 are more than procedural anomalies—they
are harbingers of a deeper crisis, a reckoning with forces that
threaten the very fabric of its post-war order. At the heart of
this turbulence lies the “Alternative for Germany” (AfD), a party
born from rebellion and metastasized into a specter of radicalism.
Polling in second place nationally and dominant in the East, the
AfD has become a force impossible to ignore but equally impossible
to embrace.
This is not the Germany of Angela Merkel’s pragmatism, where
compromise was the cornerstone of governance. That era, for all its
successes, left a vacuum—a void where conservatism lost its
identity and the far-right found its stage. The AfD rose from this
fissure, offering disenchanted voters a mirage of “authenticity.”
Their promise? A return to a “real Germany,” one unburdened by
globalism, migration, and European entanglements. Their methods?
Radical policies and rhetoric designed not to govern but to
fracture the system.
What began in 2013 as an academic critique of the eurozone, led
by Bernd Lucke and his cadre of economists, has transformed into a
cauldron of extremism. The AfD of today is unrecognizable from its
origins, having shed its moderate skin through purges, power
struggles, and the ascension of figures like Björn Höcke, whose
rhetoric blurs the line between nationalism and outright
fanaticism. From advocating Germany’s exit from the EU to demanding
pre-detention camps for asylum seekers, the AfD has crafted a
platform not of solutions but of provocations. It thrives on
opposition, positioning itself as the sole voice of “the people”
against an elite they decry as traitorous.
Yet, for all its noise, the AfD is trapped in a paradox of its
own making. Its very radicalism ensures its isolation. No
mainstream party will risk a coalition, and even insurgent forces
like Sahra Wagenknecht’s bloc keep their distance. The AfD’s
strategy is clear: remain an outsider, a disruptor. But this path
has limits. Opposition may amplify their rhetoric, but it offers no
pathway to governance, no blueprint for uniting a fractured
nation.
The party’s rise is a mirror held up to Germany itself,
reflecting a society struggling with identity and direction. Angela
Merkel’s CDU, once a bastion of center-right stability, ceded its
ideological territory to the extremes. Traditional parties, mired
in cautious centrism, failed to answer the questions posed by
globalization, migration, and economic inequality. Into this void
stepped the AfD, offering answers that resonate not because they
are right, but because they are loud.
This loudness has consequences. The AfD’s electoral success
comes at the cost of its integrity, as scandals and internal rifts
pile up. German intelligence monitors the party for undermining
democratic principles, a shadow that looms over its ambitions.
Former allies like Jörg Meuthen denounce it as a “radical cult,”
while founder Bernd Lucke laments that his creation, meant to
critique EU fiscal policy, has mutated into a force bent on
dismantling the republic itself.
The AfD’s strategy—radicalization without governance—can only
take it so far. Their influence on Germany’s political landscape is
undeniable, but influence is not power. The Bundestag, fractured
and fragile, may echo with their defiance, but it will not yield to
their control. For Germany, the AfD’s ascent is not just a
challenge but a test. Can the country’s democratic institutions
weather this storm? Or will the winds of radicalism erode the
foundations of what has long been Europe’s anchor of stability?
The answer lies not just in the party’s trajectory but in
Germany’s response. A failure to address the underlying discontent
that fuels the AfD risks prolonging their rise, turning protest
into permanence. But the party’s refusal to moderate, its
insistence on conflict over compromise, ensures that it remains a
movement of resistance rather than governance. The AfD may shake
the system, but it cannot replace it. Its ascent has a ceiling, and
that ceiling is the very democracy it seeks to undermine.
A Symbol of Division: The AfD and Germany’s Identity Crisis
The rise of the “Alternative for Germany” (AfD) is more than a
political phenomenon; it is a mirror reflecting a deeper fracture
within German society. The party’s embrace of nationalism,
rejection of European values, and opposition to globalization is
not just a platform—it’s an ideology that draws lines between “us”
and “them,” creating a nation divided against itself. Germany
stands at a crossroads: to uphold its democratic traditions or to
yield to radicals for whom compromise is defeat and division is a
tool for power.
The February snap elections will not deliver a triumph for the
AfD. Its ultra-radicalism makes it untouchable for other parties,
ensuring its continued role in opposition. But even without
governing power, the AfD’s impact on Germany’s political landscape
is profound. The question is whether Germany’s democracy can
withstand the pressure of these radical winds, or if the fractures
they expose will continue to widen.
Alice Weidel, the AfD’s co-chair and chancellor candidate, is a
figure of stark contradictions. An openly gay woman, she speaks in
favor of same-sex unions, supports attracting skilled migrants, and
doesn’t entirely dismiss Germany’s EU membership. At first glance,
she seems like a harbinger of change, a voice of moderation in a
party notorious for its extremism. But this façade of
progressiveness fades against the backdrop of the AfD’s unyielding
radical core.
Weidel’s polished image clashes with the rhetoric of her
co-chair, Tino Chrupalla, whose anti-immigrant and pro-Putin stance
underscores the party’s far-right foundation. The AfD’s electoral
platform, unveiled before the elections, lays bare its true
intentions: leaving the European Union, reinstating the Deutsche
Mark, resuming Russian gas imports, lifting sanctions on Russia,
and detaining asylum seekers at the border. These proposals
obliterate any notion of a rebrand, anchoring the party firmly in
its extremist identity.
Radicalism Through Scandal
The AfD’s 2024 campaign has been riddled with scandals that
would sink most political movements. Revelations of secret meetings
to plan mass deportations, divisive comments on migrants’ loyalty,
and leaders’ controversial remarks about SS crimes during World War
II should have shattered its base. Yet, the party’s supporters
remain steadfast. In regions like Thuringia, Saxony, and
Brandenburg, the AfD’s numbers remain robust, even climbing.
Why do such scandals fail to erode trust? For AfD voters,
radicalism is not a liability but a virtue. These voters see the
party not just as a political force but as a crusader against the
perceived decay of national values. For them, compromise equates to
surrender, and the AfD’s confrontational stance is a declaration of
war on a system they feel has abandoned them.
Alice Weidel: The Contradictions Within
Weidel, despite her perceived moderation, does not stray from
the party line. Her response to the Magdeburg terrorist
attack—blaming “Islamists” even when the perpetrator had ties to
the AfD—reveals that moderation is a tool, not a principle.
Weidel’s allegiance to the party’s radical platform, including
homophobic policies and anti-liberal rhetoric, solidifies her as a
loyalist to the AfD’s extremist agenda.
Unlike European counterparts like Giorgia Meloni or Marine Le
Pen, who have sought to soften their parties’ edges to appeal to
broader electorates, the AfD chooses confrontation over
conciliation. It is a strategy that keeps its core intact but
alienates potential allies and moderates. For the AfD, radicalism
is not a stepping stone—it is the destination.
The AfD’s rise signals more than a shift in voter preferences—it
marks a critical test for Germany’s democratic resilience. The
party’s rejection of compromise and its embrace of division
challenges the post-war political order that has long anchored
Germany’s stability. Its supporters see it as the sole defender of
their interests, while its detractors view it as a direct threat to
democratic principles.
The party’s future remains a paradox. It grows stronger as a
disruptive force, yet its very radicalism ensures it remains
isolated from true power. As Germany heads into elections, the
AfD’s strategy of polarization will continue to fracture the
political landscape. The question is whether the country’s
democratic institutions can adapt to counter the discontent fueling
its rise—or risk being undermined by the very system they were
built to protect.
The AfD may never govern, but its influence is undeniable. It
has reshaped German politics, forcing the nation to confront
uncomfortable truths about its identity, unity, and future. Whether
Germany chooses to reaffirm its democratic path or succumbs to the
fractures the AfD exposes will define not just this election, but
the trajectory of a nation caught between its past and an uncertain
future.
Alice Weidel’s journey within the “Alternative for Germany”
(AfD) is a study in transformation and pragmatism. In 2017, she
vehemently condemned Björn Höcke, the leader of the party’s
extremist faction, and even advocated for his expulsion. But by
2020, her stance shifted dramatically. She voted against dissolving
Höcke’s ultra-right group, “The Wing,” marking a turning point in
her career. This decision aligned her with the party’s most radical
elements, ensuring her survival in a factionalized and increasingly
hardline organization.
By 2024, Weidel’s calculated reconciliation with Höcke
culminated in a public display of unity during a joint appearance
in Erfurt. This move solidified her leadership and positioned her
as the party’s chancellor candidate, but it also underscored the
myth of her moderation. Despite attempts to portray her as the face
of AfD’s “rebranding,” Weidel’s actions reveal a steadfast loyalty
to the party’s radical core.
The AfD’s popularity has reached unprecedented levels,
stabilizing at 17–19% nationally and soaring to 30% in Germany’s
eastern states. It now confidently occupies second place in polls,
surpassing the Social Democrats (SPD). This success stems from its
ability to channel voter frustration into a cohesive message of
nationalism, anti-globalization, and opposition to the political
establishment.
The party’s draft platform for the 2025 elections leaves no
doubt about its radical intentions:
- Germany’s withdrawal from the EU and abandonment of the
euro; - Resumption of Russian gas imports and the lifting of sanctions
on Russia; - Preemptive detention of asylum seekers at the border;
- A refusal to condemn Russia’s war against Ukraine.
Unlike European counterparts such as Giorgia Meloni or Marine Le
Pen, who have tempered their rhetoric to appeal to broader
audiences, the AfD embraces confrontation. Its platform is not a
bid for mainstream acceptance but a declaration of ideological
warfare.
Björn Hö and offering radical solutions that resonate with a
significant portion of the electorate.
However, collaboration with the AfD remains politically toxic.
Even anti-establishment movements like the “Sahra Wagenknecht Bloc”
avoid alliances with the AfD to preserve their credibility.
Attempts to legitimize a party so deeply associated with extremism
risk alienating broader voter bases and undermining the democratic
system.
The AfD’s Role as a Disruptive Force
While excluded from power, the AfD continues to shape Germany’s
political landscape. Its presence in the Bundestag amplifies its
message and forces traditional parties to address issues it has
monopolized, such as migration and national sovereignty. In a
fragmented political environment, the AfD could act as a
coalition-breaker, complicating efforts to form stable
governments.
This scenario raises the risk of pragmatic, albeit unofficial,
alliances driven by necessity rather than ideology. Such
developments could further destabilize Germany’s political
equilibrium, reinforcing the AfD’s role as a disruptive force.
The AfD’s rise challenges the foundations of Germany’s
democracy. It reflects a society grappling with questions of
identity, governance, and the limits of tolerance. The party’s
strategy of radicalization appeals to those disillusioned with the
status quo but alienates potential allies and moderates.
As the February elections approach, Germany faces a pivotal
moment. Will the country’s democratic institutions adapt to counter
the forces driving the AfD’s ascent, or will this far-right
movement continue to erode the political consensus that has defined
post-war Germany? The answer will not only determine the AfD’s
future but also shape the trajectory of German democracy in the
years to come.
The rise of the “Alternative for Germany” (AfD) underscores a
profound and growing fracture within Germany’s political and social
fabric. While the party remains isolated at the federal level, its
strongholds in Thuringia, Saxony, and Brandenburg reveal a durable
base of support that threatens national cohesion. These regional
victories highlight the widening divide between Germany’s eastern
and western states, underscoring the stark cultural and political
rifts that challenge the country’s unity.
Despite its successes, the AfD is acutely aware of its
limitations. In its current incarnation, the party is unfit to lead
Germany. Its radicalism, while galvanizing its core supporters,
precludes broader appeal or coalition-building. Yet, paradoxically,
this extremism is also its lifeblood. By embracing a protest vote
fueled by disillusionment with traditional parties, the AfD has
carved out a space as the second-largest political force in
Germany—a position it could maintain for years without
fundamentally altering its strategy.
The AfD’s strategy of radicalism ensures its status as an
“anti-system” force—a party of protest rather than governance. This
approach allows it to remain a disruptive presence, amplifying
grievances and reshaping political discourse without the burden of
responsibility. However, this self-imposed isolation comes at a
cost. While it solidifies the party’s identity among its base, it
also limits its capacity to achieve meaningful power or enact its
platform.
A rejection of radicalism, akin to the moderation embraced by
right-wing movements in Italy or France, could open doors to
coalition politics and broaden the AfD’s appeal. Yet such a shift
would risk alienating its core supporters, for whom extremism is
not a flaw but a feature. For now, the AfD thrives as a loud but
isolated voice, railing against the very structures it seeks to
undermine.
The Double-Edged Sword of Isolation
The political quarantine imposed on the AfD by mainstream
parties is often framed as a defense of democracy. But this
isolation is not without risks. Over time, it could deepen the
crisis of trust in the political system. If traditional parties
fail to address societal demands—on migration, globalization, or
economic disparity—protest sentiments will only grow, further
empowering radical forces like the AfD.
The February 23 elections will test Germany’s ability to
navigate this precarious moment. Will the country’s leaders forge
compromises to stabilize the political landscape, or will they
allow fragmentation to continue? The AfD, with its role as a
disruptor, is poised to exploit any missteps, turning systemic
weaknesses into political capital.
At the heart of the AfD’s rise lies a deliberate embrace of
radicalism. Rejecting moderation, the party positions itself as a
force of confrontation, challenging established norms and
structures. Its rhetoric and policies resonate with voters who feel
left behind by globalization and disillusioned with the compromises
of mainstream politics. For these supporters, the AfD represents
not just a political alternative but a vehicle for reclaiming
national identity and sovereignty.
This strategy, however, is a double-edged sword. While it
consolidates the party’s base, it also isolates the AfD from
broader political legitimacy. Unlike European counterparts who have
softened their positions to gain mainstream acceptance, the AfD
chooses conflict over consensus, ensuring its outsider status even
as its popularity grows.
The AfD’s ascent is not a triumph of democracy but a challenge
to its resilience. Once a symbol of stability, Germany now finds
itself at a crossroads. The AfD embodies the dissatisfaction of a
segment of society, but its success poses a stark question: can
Germany’s democratic institutions withstand the pressures of
radicalism, or will they falter under the weight of growing
division?
The party’s future is deeply entwined with its past. Its
reliance on radicalism, rejection of compromise, and pursuit of
power at all costs define its identity but also limit its
potential. The February elections will not only determine the AfD’s
immediate trajectory but also serve as a litmus test for Germany’s
democratic endurance.
Germany faces a battle for its political soul. Will the nation
reaffirm its commitment to democratic principles, or will it yield
to the forces of division and extremism? The stakes are nothing
less than the future of Europe’s most pivotal democracy. The answer
lies not only in the AfD’s ambitions but in Germany’s collective
resolve to meet the challenges it represents.
