Germany on the Brink of Explosion: AfD is Breaking the Fire Wall

Germany is moving toward an inevitable explosion, and the scene in Erfurt last weekend showed that this explosion no longer belongs to the abstract realm of political forecasts. It is already on the streets, outside congress halls, on blocked roads, in the chants of protesters, and in the self-confidence of a party that no longer sees itself as an incident, a protest vote, or a marginal phenomenon. The AfD now looks like a government merely waiting for formal confirmation.

A party that for years was treated as an anomaly in the German system now speaks the language of historical inevitability, while its opponents try to slow down in the streets a process that has already penetrated deep into the country’s political body.

Around 15,000 protesters in Erfurt is no small number, especially given the mobilization of trade unions, the left, civic groups, and anti-fascist organizations. The image of blocked roads and riot police is a reminder that German politics is increasingly moving out of the realm of parliamentary procedure and into a space of physical tension. The protests against the AfD carry energy and a powerful historical memory, but their political effectiveness is becoming increasingly uncertain. The more visible the resistance becomes, the easier it is for the AfD to portray its rise as a struggle against the system, the media, the elites, and organized pressure from the streets. That dynamic has been feeding the European right for years, and in Germany it takes on a particular form because of a history that turns every move toward harder national politics into a seismic event.

Alice Weidel and Tino Chrupalla have once again been elected to lead a party that, according to polls, is now ahead of the CDU and CSU of Chancellor Friedrich Merz, who today is backed by only 13% of respondents. The mere fact that the AfD is reaching around 29% support at the national level changes every calculation. In Western European countries, the rise of the right has often been interpreted as a corrective to established parties, as pressure that would force the center to tighten migration policy, reduce bureaucracy, or acknowledge economic frustration. The German case goes further. The AfD is no longer seeking influence over the agenda alone. Chrupalla openly says the party will govern, first regionally and then nationally. A few years ago, such a statement would have sounded like a provocation. Today it sounds like a reading of the political calendar.

The war in Ukraine is an especially important question. Chrupalla supports ending military aid to Kyiv and resetting relations with Moscow. In the German context, that message carries more weight than it does in many other European countries. Germany’s economic strength was tied for decades to Russian energy, and the sudden rupture of that relationship was a geopolitical decision with enormous economic consequences. The AfD has built around this a narrative that appeals not only to nationalists, but also to workers, entrepreneurs, and pensioners who ask why Germany must pay the price for a strategy shaped in large part by Washington. If the AfD one day finds itself in a position to truly influence policy toward Eastern Europe, this issue could determine whether the party remains a protest phenomenon or becomes the vehicle for a serious strategic turn.

Germany is a special zone of sensitivity because every major political shift there is read through the historical experience of the twentieth century. That is why the so-called firewall against the AfD is so important to the political center. It serves as a moral and institutional barrier, an agreement under which the party is kept out of coalitions and executive power. We have already written about this topic in much greater detail here: The AfD and Europe’s Firewall: The Numbers Have Gone Too Far, It Is Time to Open the Biggest Taboo Topic. But the firewall becomes weaker as the AfD grows stronger. When a party reaches almost a third of the electorate, its permanent exclusion begins to produce a new tension. AfD voters can then conclude that a political operation is being waged against them, while the AfD’s opponents can conclude that any concession would amount to a betrayal of the democratic inheritance. Between those two positions, there is less and less room for a peaceful transition.

That is why the scene in Erfurt matters for all of Europe. It shows a future in which elections alone will no longer be a strong enough outlet for social anger. One side takes to the streets because it believes a dangerous right is being normalized before its eyes. The other side fills congress halls because it believes it is being denied the right to power. The police stand between them as a symbol of a state that still maintains order, but is finding it increasingly difficult to maintain trust. In such circumstances, physical clashes, blockades, counter-mobilizations, and pressure on institutions become ever more likely. Germany’s tradition of stability still exists, but its authority is no longer beyond question.

If the AfD wins in Saxony-Anhalt and Mecklenburg-Western Pomerania, Europe will be watching the beginning of a new phase. Small and medium-sized countries will quickly recognize their own versions of the German scenario. Every migration crisis, every rise in energy prices, every new allocation for war, and every further weakening of industry will become fuel for similar movements. Germany was long the anchor of the European Union. If that anchor begins to jerk loose, the ship will not remain calm. The AfD is not yet in power, but it already acts as a force reshaping the entire political space. Germany is moving toward an outcome that can no longer be stopped with old formulas. The question is whether that outcome will be an institutional turn, a street-level escalation, or a painful exposure of the emptiness behind the great slogans. Either way, Europe will feel it.