Voters in the German state of Brandenburg go to the polls this weekend, in the last of a trio of regional elections in the former East Germany that are seen as a gauge of the political climate – not just in these states, not just in Germany, but across Europe.
At the centre of attention will be the showing of Alternative fur Deutschland (AfD), which is running neck and neck with the centre-left Social Democrats (SPD), who have governed Brandenburg since reunification.
The AfD, described variously as a far-right or populist party, goes into the election with the wind in its sails. In state elections three weeks ago, it topped the poll in Thuringia – the first time a far-right party had done so in any German state since the Second World War – and came a close second to the centre-right CDU in Saxony.
While there are specific aspects of the history, geography and politics of the former East Germany that may have provided especially fertile ground for the AfD to grow, its appeal is also rising – although not to the same extent – in the rest of Germany, with possible implications for the general election, due this time next year.
While the AfD’s performance in Thuringia carries most symbolism, as the state where the Nazi Party first won an election, a win for the AfD in Brandenburg would also resonate nationally – but for slightly different reasons. Brandenburg has long been one of the most politically stable states, with the SPD remaining in government for the past 30 years. With its proximity to Berlin, it has escaped some of the economic doldrums experienced by other former East German states. It has also experienced less immigration and less outward migration than other parts of the former East.
These could also be reasons why, though the latest polls give the AfD a lead of between 4 and 1 percentage points over the SPD, that lead has been slipping, and the SPD could yet prevail.
Either way, however, the fate of the SPD in Brandenburg will have implications for the SPD nationally, and a win for the AfD would add significantly to the woes of chancellor Olaf Scholz, who is already seen as very much the underdog going into next year’s election. It is a race that has already begun, following the announcement this week by CDU leader Friedrich Merz that he intends to be his party’s candidate for chancellor in 2025.
Before visions of swastika banners and goose-stepping troops are overlaid on the image of Germany in the rest of Europe – and especially in the UK, given its continuing Second World War preoccupation – it is important to look at the reality.
First, there is not the slightest prospect of the AfD topping a federal election. It is Germany’s centre-left and centre-right that will again be competing to be the largest party in the next German parliament and to lead the coalition government that German elections usually produce.
Second, all of Germany’s mainstream right and left parties are on record as refusing to facilitate a regional (or national) government that includes the AfD. Assuming they stick to their word, the only way that the AfD could thus arrive in government would be if it gained an overall majority – and it is, so far, a long way from achieving this.
When it topped the poll in Thuringia, it had just 33 per cent of the vote, to the CDU’s 24 per cent. Sahra Wagenknecht’s BSW party – a fusion of hard left and anti-migrant right – is a new and complicating factor. But the spectre of Germany in the grip of the far right distorts what is actually going on.
Third, Germany’s proportional system gives non-mainstream parties the chance of being represented in the federal and regional parliaments, if their vote reaches a required threshold. In the UK, the first-past-the-post system makes it hard for non-mainstream parties to have their candidates elected as MPs; Reform UK, for instance, gained 14 per cent of the vote, but only five MPs (1 per cent). Is it better for such parties to be inside or outside of the fold?
All that said, the rise in the AfD vote in Germany, even accounting for the German specifics, conforms to a wider trend across Europe, where there are now seven countries where parties classed as far right or populist have topped the polls and attained a share of power.
In the Netherlands, Geert Wilders’s far-right populist Party for Freedom (PVV) won the general election last November with 23.5 per cent of the vote. After more than six months of talks, he was blocked from becoming prime minister but his party is the largest in a four-party coalition.
In Rome, Giorgia Meloni’s Brothers of Italy party has been in power for almost two years. Finland, Slovakia, Croatia and the Czech Republic have hard-right parties in government, and the Swedish government relies for a majority on an informal agreement with the Sweden Democrats, right-wing populists who make up the second-largest party in parliament.
Then there is France, where Marine Le Pen’s National Rally came within touching distance of government in June, only to have the prospect snatched away in a second-round swing to the left.
A few countries have bucked the trend – Poland, when Donald Tusk’s Civic Coalition party was able to form a centrist coalition, after coming a close second in the election; and, of course, the UK, with Labour’s landslide victory in July. But Poland faces a presidential election next year that could go the other way, and the hard right, in the shape of Reform, entered the UK parliament for the first time. Last month’s riots in England, which were blamed on far-right groupings outside mainstream politics, might also be included in the equation.
The extent to which any or all of the parties concerned can be defined as far-right can be discussed, as can the degree of the threat they might pose, whether to democracy or what might be seen as civic norms. Sir Keir Starmer’s evidently amicable meeting with Meloni last weekend, and the central subject of discussion – Italy’s plan to process irregular migrants in Albania – might suggest less of a political gulf than their political allegiances would portend.
One feature all the parties share, however, and a central element in their appeal, is an emphasis on immigration as a threat. Some, but not all, also espouse socially conservative values. Increasingly, however, there is a third shared element, and that is their critical attitude to Western support for Ukraine against Russia.
The AfD’s opposition to the German government’s military and other assistance for Ukraine has been a big part of its campaign, and is received with huge enthusiasm at its rallies, its arguments based in part on the damage done to the German economy (and living standards) and in part on the risks, as it sees it, to peace in Europe. Such a stance, of course, invites accusations of playing to Moscow’s tune.
Its growing prominence in the appeal of the far right, however, and not just in Germany, could have far-reaching implications, whether those parties win a share in power or whether, as in Germany, they may come to dominate the parliamentary opposition. This is because they could force a debate that would affect not just the country concerned but Ukraine – and potentially the future political and security configuration of Europe.