The firewall against the German far right is crumbling
By
entrenching itself in small towns, Alternative for Germany is winning over
swathes of the country.
August 30,
2024 4:00 am CET
By Nette
Nöstlinger
https://www.politico.eu/article/far-right-germany-afd-extremism-far-right-nazi-party/
GROßSCHIRMA,
Germany — When members of the volunteer fire department in Großschirma, a small
town in the eastern German state of Saxony, marked their institution’s 100th
anniversary, it was only natural that Rolf Weigand would be there.
Weigand, a
40-year-old politician from the far-right Alternative for Germany (AfD) party,
is deeply enmeshed in town life. He’s active in the association that supports
the local elementary school, and is also involved in the local poultry breeding
club, once proudly scoring 94 points in a contest with his Thuringian bearded
chicken. Earlier this month, he worked the beer tap at the local talent show.
“We have
always sought contact with citizens here on the ground,” Weigand said of the
AfD during the fire department party as children hopped around in a bouncy
castle. “I think this closeness to citizens, this contact, makes us
particularly strong.”
Indeed,
there are few places in Germany where the AfD is stronger.
Nearly 35
years after the fall of the Berlin Wall, a jagged political schism runs through
the country, tracing the former border between East and West Germany. On the
east side of the divide, the AfD is surging despite its growing radicalism and
persistent warnings from mainstream leaders that it is an extremist, even Nazi,
party.
Ahead of
three state elections across eastern Germany this September — including in
Saxony and Thuringia this Sunday — the once-fringe party is polling first or
close to first in all contests. That success is due to the party’s increasingly
deep roots in small towns across the east like Großschirma, where in municipal
and European Parliament elections in June, the AfD won around half the local
vote, illustrating the extent to which it has become the dominant political
power in the area.
The fact
that so many voters in eastern Germany are increasingly embracing the far right
points to the core issue underlying the divide: a stark loss of trust in the
mainstream parties, institutions and the media. In the state of Saxony alone,
only 41 percent of people are satisfied with the functioning of their
democracy, according to a survey commissioned by the state government. Only one
in ten people said they trust political parties, and only 15 percent said they
trust the media.
The AfD,
while doggedly stoking that mistrust, has stepped into the void, increasingly
entrenching itself in eastern German society on the most local of levels. For
the AfD, it is all part of a larger strategy: Begin by winning in
municipalities and state parliaments across the east. That dominance, the
thinking goes, will normalize the party despite its extremism, allowing it to
one day expand to the highest levels of national government.
Figures like
Weigand, who also runs his own ceramics-coating business, are critical to that
strategy. In March, Weigand won nearly 60 percent of the vote in an election
for mayor of Großschirma against two other centrist candidates. Due to a
technicality, the vote was annulled, compelling Weigand to run again this
Sunday. This time, he’s running unopposed.
The surge in
support for the AfD comes despite the fact that state-level domestic
intelligence authorities have classified the local branches of the party in
both Saxony and Thuringia as extremist organizations aiming to undermine German
democracy.
But in towns
like Großschirma, the AfD is already almost a banal fact of life. At the fire
department anniversary, citizens — even those who don’t support his party —
praised the mayor, with one person calling him a “nice” guy.
Weigand, at
one point, addressed the crowd.
“I would
like to thank you very much for always standing together so well, for
supporting each other, for really coming together as one,” he said, winning an
enthusiastic round of applause when he concluded.
The
crumbling firewall
The leaders
of Germany’s mainstream parties are mindful of the fact that Adolf Hiter was
initially able to rise to power at the ballot box — and that conservatives then
helped normalize the Nazis by partaking in coalition governments with them,
first in the eastern state of Thuringia, and later on a national level.
It’s in
order to avoid a repeat of that history that mainstream parties now vow to
maintain a Brandmauer, or firewall, around the AfD, refusing to include them in
coalition governments — or, for that matter, to cooperate with the party on
passing any kind of legislation.
The leaders
of the AfD, however, intend to knock down the firewall by making it impossible
to avoid working with the party in small towns. If elected representatives need
to cooperate with the AfD to do things as mundane as repairing roads and
schools, their thinking goes, the mainstream parties will one day be forced to
work with the party on more sweeping policy issues.
“If people
come into direct contact with the AfD in local government, make contact and
also recognize that pragmatic policies are made there, then this is of course
an origin or a possible beginning for cooperation at other levels,” Torben
Braga, an AfD state parliamentarian in Thuringia, considered one of the party’s
main strategists in eastern Germany, told POLITICO.
In
Großschirma, even local politicians in parties opposing the AfD say that
strategy is working.
One
afternoon, Gunter Zschommler, a longtime local politician for the center-right
Christian Democratic Union (CDU) and a dairy farmer who had run against Weigand
for mayor and lost, sat in the kitchen of his farmhouse and lamented the state
of local politics as cows grazed outside. The far-right is rising, he argued,
because mainstream parties have long neglected rural areas.
“Over the
last two decades, major parties have focused exclusively on cities,”
Zschommler, an affable 61-year-old, said. “The AfD has exploited this gap,
promising people they will take care of them.”
Zschommler’s
neighbor, Volker Scharf, a local politician from an independent citizens
alliance, agreed and argued that a political gap emerged after East and West
Germany unified in 1990.
“After
reunification, first it was industry that left, then the state left,” Scharf
said. “What remained was an empty space. That’s where the AfD stepped in.”
Due to the
AfD’s popularity in local politics across the east, the firewall has in many
ways already fallen. Between 2019 and 2023, there were more than 120 cases of
cooperation in local government between the AfD and mainstream parties, most
often with the CDU, according to a recent study published by the progressive
Rosa Luxemburg Foundation.
Examples of
that cooperation include a case in Saxony where mainstream parties in one town
council supported an AfD motion to forbid the use of gender-neutral language in
advertising for the town’s theater. In another instance in Thuringia,
mainstream parties supported an AfD motion to hold a vote on a leftist mayor’s
dismissal.
“The
firewall at the county level no longer exists and this will only get worse,”
said Jana Pinka, a local politician for the Left party. “I’m really scared that
it’s going to get even darker. I sometimes look for parallels with the 1930s.”
The
weakening resistance
Many locals
say that, despite the wholesome, practical image many small-town AfD
politicians project, politics in the area have become increasingly raw since
the party’s rise.
Zschommler,
the dairy farmer, said that local politicians from all sides would often meet
for beer and Schnitzel after town council meetings, but those days are long
gone. “Things have gotten very cold,” he said.
There are
starker examples of the increasingly tense political climate.
Dirk
Neubauer, an independent who served as the commissioner of the county to which
Großschirma belongs, was long one of the fiercest critics of the AfD in the
area. “We are really on a very dangerous path here,” he said in a video message
after the AfD’s strong performance in Saxony in the European election in June.
“We are not rewriting history, we are repeating history.”
But in July,
Neubauer abruptly resigned, citing threats from far-right extremists. “For
months, I’ve been confronted with a personal, diffuse threat from right-wing
groups,” he said in another video message. “I receive anonymous letters, I
receive anonymous emails, I’ve had one or two personal confrontations,” he went
on, adding: “All of that has extended to my private circle, and I’ve reached a
point where I say: ‘Enough is enough.’”
Neubauer’s
experience is by no means an isolated event. Between May and October of last
year, every second local politician in eastern Germany experienced hostility in
the form of verbal attacks, physical assaults or hate postings, according to a
nationwide survey of municipal and county politicians.
In
Großschirma, Weigand said that he is reaching out to his political opponents to
undo the polarized climate. “We must grow together as one, that is what I am
standing for,” he told POLITICO.
On social
media, however, his tone is often more charged.
On his
Telegram channel, he once posted a picture of heavily armed police officers
standing in front of a church to protect it. “Mama, why are there police with
big guns standing in front of the church?” read a caption over the photo.
“Because we
are open-minded and tolerant,” came the reply from the fictitious mother.
The subtext
was that the German government’s migration policies had brought the threat of
terror attacks to the country — or, as Weigand put it in the post: “The
consequences of the ideology of failed woke multiculturalism in one picture.”
He added:
“We’ll take back our country one bit at a time.”
That kind of
rhetoric seemed distant when, one recent evening in Großschirma, Weigand was
sworn in as acting mayor, pending his inevitable victory in Sunday’s election.
Right after,
the members of the town council gathered for a meeting, and Weigand was
presented with a congratulatory, pink bouquet.
The acting
mayor then quickly moved on to discuss the items on the agenda — the repair of a local road, the renovation of
the town swimming pool, followed by a dialogue about what time locals are
permitted to mow their lawns.
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