The hard right takes Germany into dangerous territory

AS THE DUST settled after elections in Saxony and Thuringia, two states in eastern Germany, one thing was clear: the hard right had notched up a first. In Thuringia the Alternative for Germany (AfD)—a party whose branches in both states have been formally designated as extremist—topped the polls in a state election for the first time since its founding just over a decade ago. In Saxony it fell just behind the centre-right Christian Democratic Union (CDU)—and only because many voters lent their votes to the conservatives to keep the AfD from top spot. Turnout in both states was high. Olaf Scholz, Germany’s chancellor, called the result “bitter” and urged other parties to keep the AfD from power.

The AfD’s lead candidate in Thuringia, Björn Höcke, whose provocative flirtations with Nazi rhetoric have landed him with criminal convictions, is not about to take charge of the state. No other party will work with the AfD, in the east or anywhere else (although it may hold enough seats in both states to enjoy a blocking minority, enabling it to obstruct the appointment of judges, among other matters). But the large chunk of seats the AfD now occupies will force the other parties into ideologically garbled coalitions.

That is where the role of a second populist party could prove crucial. The Sahra Wagenknecht Alliance (BSW), a “left-conservative” outfit launched in January by Ms Wagenknecht, an east German ex-communist who broke from The Left, a hard-left party, secured a double-digit, third-place result in both states. The BSW’s sceptical positions on immigration and on Germany’s support for Ukraine can sometimes be hard to distinguish from those of the AfD. But it is too new to sit on the wrong side of a cordon sanitaire, and it is in a strong position to join the CDU in government in both Saxony and Thuringia.

That prospect will turn the stomach of CDU leaders in Berlin and across west Germany. Worse, to make up the numbers, the CDU and BSW may also need the help of a third party: the Social Democrats (SPD), who lead Germany’s national government, to which the CDU is in opposition. The SPD’s results in both states were dismal—as were those of its national coalition partners, the Greens and the liberal Free Democrats—if slightly better than expected. Mr Scholz, who sits in the SPD, is detested across the states that voted: only 17% of voters in Saxony and Thuringia say he is doing a good job. Yet such are the requirements of Germany’s increasingly fragmented party system that the SPD may remain indispensable for the formation of stable governments.

The symbolic nature of the results will resonate more than their substance. It is true that over 40% of voters in both states plumped for populist parties that sometimes sound like Kremlin mouthpieces. But German states have little power to shape the country’s foreign policy. Nor can election results in two small states whose combined population of 6.2m represents about 7% of the German total be taken as any sort of national bellwether.

Yet Michael Kretschmer, the CDU premier in Saxony, was not wrong to say before the vote that his state was confronting a Schicksalswahl, or “fateful election”. The AfD has morphed from a group of grouchy Eurosceptics to a party whose more radical members, such as Mr Höcke, sometimes operate at the margins of democracy; some in Germany reckon the party should be banned. Its exploitation of grievances over inflation, immigration and Ukraine has found substantial backing not only in east Germany but across the country: the AfD has long occupied second spot in national polls, behind the CDU plus its Bavarian sister party, but ahead of all three parties of Germany’s national coalition.

The poor results for those parties will amplify tensions in the national coalition. The SPD will hope for a better performance in Brandenburg, another eastern state, which votes on September 22nd. But while the country chews over the consequences of the state elections, politicians in Saxony and Thuringia will now begin the painstaking work of negotiating coalitions—something that takes several weeks even at the best of times.

Mr Kretschmer’s unpopular coalition with the SPD and the Greens no longer commands a majority. He will surely have to work with the BSW and SPD. The result in Thuringia, meanwhile, is almost precision-engineered for chaos. Mario Voigt, the CDU’s main candidate, will open talks with the SPD and probably the BSW. But those three parties will be one seat short of a majority. Mr Voigt may also need to secure the backing of Bodo Ramelow, the outgoing premier. The CDU has a national prohibition against working with Mr Ramelow’s Left party. But as Mr Ramelow, a moderate sort, points out, it is difficult to understand why he should be considered beyond the pale while Ms Wagenknecht’s party should not.

Ms Wagenknecht, though, has made it clear that she will be no pushover in coalition talks. Before the elections she said that her BSW would only join parties in government that were committed to rejecting Mr Scholz’s recently agreed plan to station long-range American missiles in Germany from 2026. That may seem like a hubristic demand to make of a government that should be occupied with housing, education and policing. But it is a reflection of the uncharted territory into which German politics appears to be heading. ■

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