For two decades, Germany and Russia built a relationship on the quiet logic of mutual benefit — gas for prosperity, trade for stability — until February 2022 shattered that logic entirely. The invasion of Ukraine forced Berlin into a historic reversal: abandoning energy dependence, arming a neighbor's defense, and confronting the limits of the belief that commerce could tame imperial ambition. Now, as drone incidents and diplomatic expulsions deepen the estrangement, Germany finds itself holding a difficult position — committed to Ukraine's survival, yet divided at home over how much that comm
Germany at crossroads as Russian ties freeze and domestic pressure mounts
People had projected their own rationality onto Russia
Mark
So Germany built this entire energy strategy on the assumption that Russia wouldn't do something self-destructive. How did that assumption survive 2014?
Mimi
It didn't, really. But the pipeline agreement was signed that same year. The warnings were there—the US, other European countries all said this would give Russia leverage. Germany signed anyway.
Luke
Why? Was it just economic interest, or was there something else?
Mimi
Economic interest, yes. But also a belief that engagement and trade would moderate Russian behavior over time. That's the logic that held for twenty years.
Mark
And then February 2022 shattered it.
Mimi
Completely. Scholz called it an epochal shift. Germany ended energy dependence, expanded the military, started sending weapons to Ukraine. The relationship went from partnership to something close to confrontation.
Luke
But here's what I want to know: did anyone actually predict this would happen, or is this all hindsight?
Mimi
The Western allies warned about the pipeline in 2014. They said Russia would use it as leverage. They were right about that part.
Mark
So the warnings existed. They were just ignored.
Mimi
Yes. The belief was that the economic costs of war would be too high for Russia to bear. That rationality would prevail.
Luke
And now Germany is facing domestic pressure from the AfD, which wants to reverse course entirely.
Mimi
Right. Forty-two percent of Germans now think military aid has gone too far. The AfD won a landslide in Saxony-Anhalt in September. High fuel prices have made it a live political issue.
Mark
So the government is caught between its strategic commitment to Ukraine and public anxiety about being drawn deeper into conflict.
Mimi
Exactly. And the experts themselves disagree. Varwick says Germany should push Ukraine toward compromise. Baumann says supporting Ukraine is the best investment for German security.
Luke
Which one is the government actually listening to?
Mimi
Merz has held firm so far. But Leunig notes that if public support weakens over the long term, the government will eventually have to respond.
Mark
So this isn't resolved.
Mimi
Not even close. The war has lasted longer than World War I. There's no visible end.
Le Pouls
- A drone defused near Ukrainian transport aircraft at Leipzig Airport marked the moment Germany publicly accused the Kremlin of sabotage on its own soil — a threshold that once seemed unthinkable.
- The AfD's landslide in Saxony-Anhalt signals that the political cost of the Ukraine commitment is no longer abstract: nearly half of Germans believe military aid has already gone too far.
- Chancellor Merz holds the line — speaking of Russia's 'economic exhaustion' — while his own foreign policy experts are openly split on whether that line leads toward security or deeper entanglement.
- Moscow has responded to every German escalation in kind, closing cultural institutions and consulates, with Foreign Minister Lavrov warning that accusations of Kremlin involvement mark 'the beginning of a real war.'
For two decades, Germany and Russia built a relationship on the quiet logic of mutual benefit — gas for prosperity, trade for stability — until February 2022 shattered that logic entirely. The invasion of Ukraine forced Berlin into a historic reversal: abandoning energy dependence, arming a neighbor's defense, and confronting the limits of the belief that commerce could tame imperial ambition. Now, as drone incidents and diplomatic expulsions deepen the estrangement, Germany finds itself holding a difficult position — committed to Ukraine's survival, yet divided at home over how much that commitment should cost.
Germany spent two decades convinced that energy interdependence with Russia was a form of peace. Under Schröder and then Merkel, Russian gas flowed west and German industry thrived on cheap fuel. Even after Russia seized Crimea in 2014, Berlin pressed ahead with Nord Stream 2 — a pipeline designed to bypass Ukraine entirely. Western allies warned it handed Moscow dangerous leverage. Germany proceeded anyway.
Then came February 24, 2022. Russian tanks crossed into Ukraine, and the entire architecture of German-Russian relations collapsed overnight. Chancellor Scholz called it a Zeitenwende — an epochal shift — and the actions that followed were sweeping: energy dependence ended, the military began its largest expansion in decades, trade shrank to almost nothing under EU sanctions, and cultural cooperation simply ceased. Nord Stream 2, already suspended, was destroyed that September.
By 2026, the estrangement had grown sharper still. An armed drone was defused at Leipzig Airport near Ukrainian transport aircraft — planes carrying German military aid to Kyiv. Berlin blamed the Kremlin openly for the first time, closed a Russian cultural center and a consulate it called espionage operations. Moscow retaliated by shutting the Goethe Institutes and the German consulate in St. Petersburg. Putin denied involvement; Lavrov called the accusations 'the beginning of a real war.'
At home, the political ground is shifting. The AfD won a landslide in Saxony-Anhalt on a platform of ending military aid, normalizing relations with Russia, and resuming energy deals. High fuel prices have made the issue combustible. Forty-two percent of Germans now say support for Ukraine has gone too far — less a principled stance, one political scientist noted, than 'a reaction born of fear.'
Chancellor Merz has held firm, reaffirming Germany's commitment even after the AfD's victory. But his own experts are divided. One argues Germany should pressure Ukraine toward American-brokered compromise; another insists that supporting Ukraine remains the soundest investment in European security. What is not in dispute is the larger reckoning: the belief that trade could moderate Moscow's ambitions, that prosperity would bring stability, that rational self-interest would prevent catastrophe — all of it has been discredited. Germany now navigates without the map it relied on for a generation.
Germany spent two decades building what looked like a stable partnership with Russia. It began in the early 2000s under Chancellor Gerhard Schröder, continued through Angela Merkel's sixteen years in office, and rested on a simple exchange: Russian gas flowed west in steady, profitable streams, and German industry thrived on cheap energy. Even when Russia seized Crimea in 2014, the relationship held. Germany and Russia signed the Nord Stream 2 agreement that year—a direct pipeline designed to bypass Ukraine entirely, carrying Russian gas straight to German ports. Western allies warned the move would give Moscow dangerous leverage. Berlin proceeded anyway.
On February 24, 2022, Russian tanks crossed into Ukraine, and the entire architecture collapsed. Mario Baumann, a Russia expert at the German Council on Foreign Relations, later reflected on how thoroughly German policymakers had misjudged the moment. "People had projected their own rationality onto Russia," he told Deutsche Welle. "They underestimated the regime's imperialist and revisionist ambitions." The cost calculations that had seemed so obvious—that war would be economically ruinous, politically impossible—turned out to mean nothing to Putin.
Chancellor Olaf Scholz called it a Zeitenwende, an epochal shift. The words were careful, but the actions that followed were not. Germany ended its decades-long dependence on Russian energy. In September 2022, the Nord Stream 2 pipeline was destroyed—the Federal Prosecutor suspects a Ukrainian operation. The German military began a historic expansion. Defense Minister Boris Pistorius declared that Germany "must become capable of waging war," a statement that still draws criticism as an escalation. Trade with Russia shrank to almost nothing under EU sanctions. Cultural, scientific, and educational cooperation simply ceased.
By 2024, Friedrich Merz had taken over as leader of the opposition Christian Democrats. "Ukraine must win the war. Russia must lose the war," he said in parliament. When he became chancellor in 2025, he spoke of engineering Russia's "economic exhaustion." But Russia showed no serious interest in compromise. Instead, the relationship deteriorated further. In August 2026, an armed drone was discovered and defused at Leipzig Airport near Ukrainian transport aircraft—planes that carry much of the military aid Germany sends to Kyiv. The German government publicly blamed the Kremlin for the first time. It closed a Russian cultural center in Berlin and the Russian consulate in Bonn, calling them espionage operations. Moscow responded by shutting the Goethe Institutes and the German consulate in St. Petersburg. Putin denied involvement in the drone incident and called it a "serious mistake" to blame Moscow. Foreign Minister Sergey Lavrov went further, describing the accusations as "the beginning of a real war."
But Germany faces a problem that extends far beyond diplomatic incidents. The far-right Alternative for Germany party, the AfD, has begun winning regional elections by substantial margins. In September 2026, it won a landslide victory in Saxony-Anhalt. The party's platform is straightforward: end military support for Ukraine, normalize relations with Russia, and resume energy deals. High fuel prices have made the issue politically explosive. In the latest ARD Deutschlandtrend survey, 42 percent of Germans said military aid to Ukraine has gone too far. Sven Leunig, a political scientist at the University of Jena, noted that the concern is less a principled rejection of support than "a reaction born of fear. People want to stay out of the conflict so as not to be drawn into it more deeply themselves."
Chancellor Merz has held firm. After the AfD's election victory, he reaffirmed Germany's commitment to Ukraine. But experts are divided on whether that position can hold. Johannes Varwick of Halle University argues the time has come for a change of course. "German and European policy toward Ukraine resembles a mix of platitudes and wishful thinking," he said. "Germany should exert pressure on Ukraine to move closer to the latest American proposals, which aim for a compromise." Baumann takes the opposite view: "Supporting Ukraine remains the best investment for safeguarding German and European interests. The government has recognized this and should stick to this course." He adds a condition: Berlin must act in concert with its European partners.
The war in Ukraine has now lasted longer than World War I. There is no visible end. The hopes that once animated German-Russian relations—that business ties would moderate Moscow's ambitions, that prosperity would bring stability, that rational self-interest would prevent catastrophe—have been thoroughly discredited. For the foreseeable future, those hopes seem illusory. What remains is a government trying to hold a course while domestic pressure mounts and its own experts disagree on whether the course is wise.
Citations marquantes
People had projected their own rationality onto Russia. They underestimated the regime's imperialist and revisionist ambitions.— Mario Baumann, Russia expert at the German Council on Foreign Relations
Supporting Ukraine remains the best investment for safeguarding German and European interests.— Mario Baumann
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War & Conflict