In the days following a historic far-right electoral surge, roughly 150,000 Germans took to the streets of twenty cities to defend what they understand as the soul of their republic. The Alternative for Germany's near-majority in Saxony-Anhalt — its strongest result since the party's founding — has forced a nation still shaped by the memory of 1933 to confront a question it hoped it had answered long ago: how does a democracy protect itself from movements that would use its own rules against it? The marches are not merely a protest against a party, but a reckoning with how much the postwar con
150,000 Germans march against far-right AfD after state election surge
The first far-right party to lead a German state since 1945
Mark
So 150,000 people marched. That's a real number—but what does it actually represent? Is that a lot for Germany?
Mimi
It's substantial. These weren't spontaneous gatherings; they were organized by established civil society groups with real reach. The fact that they coordinated across twenty cities suggests genuine mobilization, not just Berlin activism.
Luke
But we should be careful here. We know the total was roughly 150,000 across all cities. Hamburg had 25,000, Munich had 12,000, Berlin had "several thousand more." That's about 40,000 accounted for. The rest is distributed across sixteen other cities. We don't have a full breakdown.
Mark
Why does the AfD's result feel so shocking to people? Forty-four percent is high, but it's not a majority.
Mimi
Because it's the highest the party has ever achieved, and because it happened in a state election—which is a real test of whether they can actually govern. The historical weight matters too. Germany has spent eighty years building a political system designed to prevent exactly this.
Luke
Right, but the firewall is holding so far. No mainstream party has agreed to work with them. The AfD got 44 percent but still can't form a government without breaking a taboo that's been in place for years.
Mark
What about the ban? Is that actually possible?
Mimi
Legally, it's very difficult. Germany has a process for banning parties, but it requires proving they're actively working to overthrow the constitutional order. The AfD is careful about how it operates.
Luke
And Merz, the chancellor, hasn't shown interest in pursuing it. So we have calls for a ban from protesters and civil society, but no political will from the government to actually attempt one. That's a gap worth noting.
Mark
The counter-rally—did the AfD draw comparable numbers?
Mimi
The reporting doesn't give us those figures. We know they held one in Berlin with their lead candidate for the regional election, but no turnout numbers are provided.
Luke
Exactly. We have detailed counts for the protest side but not for the AfD's response. That's an asymmetry in what we know.
Le Pouls
- The AfD's 44% in Saxony-Anhalt — dwarfing the CDU's 17% — marks the first time a far-right party has stood on the threshold of governing a German state since the Nazi era ended in 1945.
- Civil society groups mobilized with striking speed, turning a political shock into mass street action within days, with Hamburg, Munich, and Berlin each drawing tens of thousands.
- The 'firewall' policy — a cross-party agreement to refuse coalition with the AfD — remains the primary structural barrier to the party assuming power, but it depends entirely on other parties holding the line.
- AfD leader Ulrich Siegmund has pivoted from demanding sole governance to signaling openness to coalition partners, actively searching for any crack in the firewall.
- Calls for an outright legal ban on the AfD are growing louder in the streets, but Chancellor Merz has shown reluctance to pursue that path, leaving the country's response fractured and unresolved.
In the days following a historic far-right electoral surge, roughly 150,000 Germans took to the streets of twenty cities to defend what they understand as the soul of their republic. The Alternative for Germany's near-majority in Saxony-Anhalt — its strongest result since the party's founding — has forced a nation still shaped by the memory of 1933 to confront a question it hoped it had answered long ago: how does a democracy protect itself from movements that would use its own rules against it? The marches are not merely a protest against a party, but a reckoning with how much the postwar consensus can hold.
On a Saturday in mid-September, roughly 150,000 people marched through about twenty German cities — Berlin, Hamburg, Munich among them — carrying signs demanding a ban on the Alternative for Germany. The demonstrations, organized by civil society groups Pruef and Campact, were a direct response to a political earthquake that had struck just days before.
On September 6, the AfD won nearly 44 percent of the vote in Saxony-Anhalt, a state in eastern Germany. The scale was staggering. Chancellor Friedrich Merz's CDU, long the anchor of German politics, managed only 17 percent. The AfD fell just short of an outright majority, projecting 39 of 83 seats — enough to make it the first far-right party to lead a German state since 1945. State leader Ulrich Siegmund called the result historic and has since signaled willingness to negotiate coalition partners, walking back his earlier insistence on governing alone.
The path to power remains obstructed. All mainstream German parties have committed to a 'firewall' policy — a standing refusal to govern alongside the AfD at any level. The party has never joined a coalition anywhere in Germany. Campact's Christoph Bautz framed the Saturday marches as a defense of constitutional order, warning against allowing 'enemies of the constitution' to reach government power.
The protests carry a particular weight in Germany, a country whose postwar identity is built on the vow never to repeat its authoritarian past. The AfD's hardline anti-immigration stance and its openness toward Russia have made it a focal point of that historical anxiety. Growing numbers of Germans are calling for the party to be banned outright, but legal hurdles are steep and Chancellor Merz has shown little appetite for that fight. What comes next turns on whether the AfD can find coalition partners willing to break the firewall — and whether the pressure from the streets is enough to ensure they don't.
On Saturday, roughly 150,000 people marched through about twenty German cities—Berlin, Hamburg, Munich among them—carrying signs that read "Ban the AfD now" and "Democracy needs no alternatives." The demonstrations were organized by civil society groups, chiefly Pruef and Campact, and they arrived as a direct response to a political shock that had rippled through the country just days earlier.
On September 6, the Alternative for Germany, a far-right party known for its hardline stance against immigration and its openness toward Russia, won nearly 44 percent of the vote in Saxony-Anhalt, a state in eastern Germany. The result was stunning in its scale. The Christian Democratic Union, Chancellor Friedrich Merz's party and the traditional anchor of German politics, managed only about 17 percent. The AfD fell just short of an outright majority in the state parliament, where it is now projected to hold 39 of 83 seats. This means the party must negotiate with other parties to form a government—a prospect that would make it the first far-right party to lead a German state since 1945, when the Nazi era ended.
Ulrich Siegmund, the AfD's state leader, called the result historic. He told supporters that voters had made clear they wanted political change, and they wanted it with his party. He has since signaled a willingness to work with coalition partners, a shift from his earlier insistence on governing alone. The party's path to power, however, faces a significant obstacle: all mainstream German parties have adopted what is known as the "firewall" policy, a longstanding agreement to refuse governing with the AfD at any level, state or national. The AfD has never joined a governing coalition anywhere in Germany.
The scale of the Saturday protests reflected the depth of alarm the election result had triggered. In Hamburg, about 25,000 people demonstrated. Munich saw roughly 12,000. Berlin hosted several thousand more in separate marches, while the AfD itself held a counter-rally in the capital, attended by Kristin Brinker, the party's lead candidate for Berlin's upcoming regional election. Christoph Bautz, head of Campact, framed the demonstrations as a defense of constitutional order. "A broad cross-section of civil society is taking to the streets to prevent the enemies of the constitution from gaining government power," he said.
The protests underscore a particular anxiety in Germany, rooted in historical memory. The country has built its postwar identity partly on a commitment to never repeating the authoritarian past. The AfD's rise has unsettled many Germans precisely because of that history. The party's anti-immigration messaging and its cultivation of ties to Russia have become focal points of concern. Growing numbers of Germans have begun calling for the AfD to be banned outright, though such a move would face significant legal hurdles. Chancellor Merz has shown reluctance to pursue a ban, leaving the question of how to respond to the party's strength unresolved. What happens next depends on whether the AfD can secure coalition partners willing to break the firewall—and whether the pressure from the streets will shift the political calculations of those who hold that power.
Citations marquantes
The people have made it absolutely clear that they finally want political change, and above all, they have shown that they want it with us.— Ulrich Siegmund, AfD state leader
A broad cross-section of civil society is taking to the streets to prevent the enemies of the constitution from gaining government power.— Christoph Bautz, head of Campact
Envie de l'histoire complète ?
Lire l'original sur Al Jazeera ↗
Politics & Governance