This comforting sense of inevitability has only been reinforced by the publication of the AfD’s regional platform, a document of more than 150 pages apparently designed to reassure voters that nothing has been left to chance, because why stop at a manifesto when you can offer a full instruction manual? Far from a mere catalogue of policies, it lays out a comprehensive vision of society, generously seasoned with unsettling nods to the Third Reich, a dash of nostalgia for select memories of the GDR, and the occasional uplifting quotation from Donald Trump or Viktor Orbán. The party’s familiar themes are all present, remigration, distrust of climate policy, hostility toward postcolonial studies and transgender rights, but now elevated to the status of a master plan for the wholesale refashioning of German society. Apparently, what was missing all along was a five-year plan.
At the heart of this project lies a deep anxiety over demographic decline, felt especially acutely in eastern Germany since reunification, and apparently solvable through sheer willpower, nostalgia, and a rigid conception of family values. The AfD champions an aggressive natalist policy, celebrating a traditional family model built around a heterosexual couple and as many children as possible. Anything that obstructs this ideal is duly identified and targeted, shortages of childcare places, the right to abortion, and those stubbornly “non-reproductive” lifestyles. German identity is thus elevated to the status of a guiding principle meant to shape every aspect of daily life, from culture and education to language itself.
Because many of these areas fall under regional authority, the party proposes nothing less than a helpful revision of national history. It denounces what it calls national masochism and an unhealthy fixation on the Nazi period, preferring a patriotic cultural policy that highlights the “positive” aspects of German history, a comforting category left deliberately undefined, like a menu that simply reads “delicious.” In this retelling, Saxony-Anhalt emerges as a central Land, once the medieval heart of the Empire, unjustly overshadowed by modern distractions such as the Bauhaus, criticised for being too cosmopolitan and insufficiently rooted.
Education would undergo an equally therapeutic transformation. The nineteenth century would reclaim centre stage, national symbols would become unavoidable, and schools would raise the flag and sing the national anthem daily, just in case anyone forgot where they were, or worse, began to think for themselves. Russian would once again become a core subject, ideally taught by native speakers, to strengthen ties with Moscow and counter what the party describes as hostile propaganda. GDR-style school sports would be encouraged, while students with disabilities would be politely excluded on the grounds that they complicate the smooth running of classes, because nothing says “modern education” quite like exclusion in the name of efficiency. Even accessibility measures such as designated parking spaces would be called into question, since compassion, it seems, is merely another form of bureaucracy.
On migration, the programme adopts a refreshingly blunt clarity. The fundamental right to asylum would be abolished, churches assisting rejected asylum seekers would face prosecution, and the church tax would be eliminated. Ukrainians receive particular attention, with social benefits reduced and strong incentives to return home, as large parts of their country are now, quite simply, deemed safe. Problem solved. Those who remain would be expected to work, preferably in reforestation projects framed as contributions to German cultural heritage, because nothing conveys “cultural duty” quite like planting trees under compulsion.
Even skilled immigration is treated with suspicion, including in sectors already on the brink of collapse, such as healthcare. The document warns that supervising foreign professionals consumes valuable German expertise and insists that labour shortages can be resolved only through demographic renewal and the return of expatriate Germans, supposedly eager to come back at precisely the right moment, like a carefully timed launch of national pride.
Finally, the programme promises “citizen” security patrols, including in schools, easier access to firearms, and an economic strategy aimed at halting deindustrialisation. This would involve increased support for small and medium-sized enterprises, a freeze on business closures, and lower energy costs achieved through the reopening of the Nord Stream gas pipelines linking Germany to Russia.
Taken as a whole, this ambitious and deeply unsettling vision raises a simple question, one that now sounds almost rhetorical. How far is Germany prepared to go to soothe its fears, calm its divisions, and reassure itself that this time will be different, without realising that it is becoming precisely what it once feared?
*Author is a former member of the UN senior staff