If democracies collapse under economic strain, Germany is on the edge.
The economy has shrunk—0.3% in 2023, another 0.2% the next year. The coalition government, dubbed the “traffic light” for the colours of its three parties, was paralysed. There were disputes over budget spending, over what must be cut and what must remain. The chancellor, Olaf Scholz, called a vote of confidence in November and lost. His party, already in freefall, demanded new elections. It was a miscalculation. When the results came, the Social Democrats collapsed, taking just 16.41% of the vote—their worst result since 1887.
On February 23rd, Germany went to the polls. Friedrich Merz will be the next chancellor, but the election resolved nothing. His Christian Democrats have no majority in the Bundestag. He is now locked in negotiations with the Christian Social Union and the defeated Social Democrats. It would take months.
The far-right Alternative für Deutschland (AfD) has risen, taking 20.9% of the vote. It was backed by tech billionaire Elon Musk, who has since moved from electric cars to ideology, and the U.S. vice president J.D. Vance. But AfD is unwanted, kept behind the Brandmauer—a “firewall” imposed by other parties. No one wants to work with it. The AfD called for a break with Europe, for rapprochement with Russia, for the mass expulsions of immigrants. It will get none of these. For now, Scholz remains in office, presiding over the same drift as before.
Crisis at ballot box
Much has been made of Germany’s elections. In Munich, days before the vote, J.D. Vance spoke of immigrants, of the loss of free speech in Europe. He refused to meet Scholz and instead met Alice Weidel, the AfD’s leader.
The election came at a turning point for Europe. The EU has given €132 billion to Ukraine, yet U.S. president, Donald Trump, began direct negotiations with Russia. The old security guarantees, in place since the war, no longer seem certain. Germany, which has long deferred to America—35,000 American troops still remain in the country—is now speaking of Kriegstüchtig, of being “war-capable”. The term was favoured by the outgoing defence minister, Boris Pistorius. He said Germany must be ready for war by 2029. The statement belies the anxiety of a country trying to convince itself.
In the past, Germany looked to America. When it struggled with integrating immigrants, it studied American ideas of citizenship. When it struggled with democracy, its intellectuals spoke of how America had taught them democracy. The old laws were changed. In 2000, Germany introduced American-style birthright citizenship. The residence requirement was reduced from 15 years to eight. In 2023, it was reduced again to five. In exceptional cases, citizenship can be granted in three. Between 2021 and 2023, more than 500,000 people were naturalised. Some voted in the February elections.
“No matter whether they had arrived from Ukraine, Syria, Portugal, Bosnia, Morocco, Russia, Britain, or Afghanistan, none of these new Germans could or would have felt any guilt or responsibility for the Holocaust.”
Tobias Buck, the managing editor of the Financial Times
Burden of history
Germany has always contended with its past. Having lost the war, it has no heroic memory. It has, instead, its guilt. It has paid reparations—$86.8 billion to Holocaust survivors. It has built its atonement in stone, in the memorials that stand across its cities. Guilt has become the anchor of German identity.
Yet this, too, has created tensions. The new Germans, who came from Syria, from Afghanistan, from Morocco, have no stake in this past. They cannot be part of the guilt, nor do they see themselves in its atonement. And so there is an unease, a feeling that something fundamental remains unresolved. “No matter whether they had arrived from Ukraine, Syria, Portugal, Bosnia, Morocco, Russia, Britain, or Afghanistan, none of these new Germans could or would have felt any guilt or responsibility for the Holocaust,” Tobias Buck, the managing editor of the Financial Times, writes in Final Verdict: A Holocaust Trial in the Twenty-first Century. “This meant, however, that none of them could truly become German.”
Welfare state under pressure
After the Cold War, Germany turned inward. It became a welfare state, concerned with itself. In 2023, it spent €1.25 trillion on social benefits—30.3% of GDP. The new citizens had a share in this, and this, too, intensified resentment. The state has to provide, yet it also must abide by its own rules—the debt brake, a constitutional limit on borrowing. The government cannot spend more than 0.35% of GDP. The Ministry of Finance and the auditors ensure this.
And now, America may withdraw. The sense of betrayal is real. Germany has already felt this from Russia, from China. Now it comes from the United States.
The AfD has borrowed from America’s rhetoric during the election campaign. It has found in America a confidence, a shamelessness that Europe still resists. In France, the far-right leader Jordan Bardella has cancelled his speech at the Conservative Political Action Conference (CPAC) after a Trump adviser, Steve Bannon, gave a Nazi salute at the event. The Americans have no such hesitations. Yet Germany cannot follow them. It must work with Europe—with France, with Britain. If the coalition between Merz and the Social Democrats holds, if they can find a common ground quickly and for long, they may keep populism at bay, at least for now.
The AfD has borrowed from America’s rhetoric during the election campaign. It has found in America a confidence, a shamelessness that Europe still resists.
America steps back, Europe steps up?
Germany is still rich. It has rebuilt itself before. In 1990, it absorbed East Germany, took on its debts, and emerged as Europe’s largest economy. But now it faces a different question. Can it move away from welfare and into defence? Can it find the money elsewhere? The AfD has enough seats in the Bundestag to block any change to the debt brake.
Yet there is a new unity. America’s retreat gives Europe something it has been lacking for a long time—a shared sense of purpose. Germany, France, and the UK together can protect themselves. It is possible.
But what, in the end, does Germany stand for?
The roads of Germany carry more trucks to other countries than they do within its borders. Change has always been a constant in Germany. The question now is no longer whether Germans can make peace with the past but rather whether they can accept the present.
To be relevant in the world, they must accept the present. The country’s history suggests they can.
To paraphrase the former German Chancellor Angela Merkel: Ja, Sie schaffen das (yes, you can).
Wayfarer 