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.