Germany finds itself navigating an unfamiliar threshold between peace and conflict, as 160 suspected acts of sabotage against power grids, railways, and defense facilities have unfolded across the country in a single year. The attacks — diffuse, deniable, and often unsolved — embody a form of modern confrontation that requires no declaration of war and leaves no clear enemy to face. Berlin has pointed toward Moscow in at least one case, severing diplomatic ties and closing cultural institutions, yet attribution remains elusive across most incidents. What Germany is learning, painfully and in r
Germany grapples with wave of infrastructure attacks amid Russia tensions
Hundreds of thousands affected by power outage from cable bridge attack in Berlin during freezing temperatures; no casualties reported in recent incidents.
We are no longer at peace, but neither are we at war.
Mark
So we're talking about 160 attacks in a single year. That's more than three a week. How many of those actually succeeded in causing damage?
Mimi
That's the thing—the reporting doesn't give us a clean number on successful versus attempted attacks. We know some caused real disruption, like the Berlin cable bridge that left hundreds of thousands without power in freezing weather. But many seem to have been detected or prevented. The uncertainty itself is part of what's unsettling people.
Luke
Right, and we should be careful here. The 160 figure comes from an internal police document cited by media reports. We don't have independent verification of how that number was calculated or what exactly counts as a "potential act of sabotage." It's a real number from a real source, but it's one agency's assessment.
Mark
Fair point. What about the recent attacks—the ones in Brandenburg, Cologne, Augsburg, Munich? Are those definitely connected?
Mimi
The reporting doesn't claim they're part of a coordinated campaign. What's notable is the timing and the pattern—they all hit critical infrastructure within days of each other. That's what created the sense of escalation and threat.
Luke
And we should note: only the Munich attacks have resulted in arrests. The others remain unsolved. So we're connecting dots that authorities haven't necessarily connected for us.
Mark
The government blamed Russia for the drone attack on the airport in August. Is that the same as saying Russia is behind all of this?
Mimi
No. The government made a specific attribution about one incident. But that attribution, combined with Germany's role supporting Ukraine and the deteriorating relationship with Moscow, has created a narrative in which people assume Russia is responsible for the broader wave. The reporting shows that assumption is widespread, but it's not proven.
Luke
And the reporting itself notes that at least one major attack—the Berlin cable bridge—is suspected to be the work of far-left extremists. So we have multiple possible actors here, and we're conflating them.
Mark
What's the actual vulnerability? Can Germany protect its infrastructure?
Mimi
Officials are saying no, not entirely. There's too much of it, spread too widely. The KRITIS law is meant to help, but it hasn't taken effect yet. And there's a tension between security and civil liberties—Germany is reluctant to deploy mass surveillance.
Luke
The reporting also makes clear that the gap isn't technical. Heiko Teggatz says the capability exists; what's missing is the investment. So this is partly a resource and priority problem, not just a capability problem.
Mark
So what happens next?
Mimi
Germany prepares for this to continue. That's what the experts are saying. Not war, not peace, but persistent low-level threat. Companies invest more in their own security. The government implements new laws. People learn to live with the anxiety.
Le Pouls
- Four days in early September brought a cascade of strikes — a coal plant power supply, a Cologne substation, a hand grenade near Augsburg's railway station, and incendiary devices hurled at Munich defense contractor sites — compressing months of anxiety into a single week.
- German police have now logged 160 potential sabotage acts and over 700 suspicious drone sightings this year, targeting the arteries of national life with a frequency that makes comprehensive defense feel impossible.
- The German government publicly blamed Russian actors for a drone attack on Halle/Leipzig Airport, triggering a diplomatic rupture — consulates closed, cultural institutions shuttered — that has pushed German-Russian relations to their coldest point in years.
- A cable bridge attack in Berlin left hundreds of thousands without power or heat during freezing temperatures, and remains unsolved, a reminder that not every threat wears the same political face.
- Germany's newly passed KRITIS legislation signals legislative intent, but officials and police union leaders alike warn that private infrastructure operators must stop waiting for the state to guard their facilities and begin investing in their own security.
Germany finds itself navigating an unfamiliar threshold between peace and conflict, as 160 suspected acts of sabotage against power grids, railways, and defense facilities have unfolded across the country in a single year. The attacks — diffuse, deniable, and often unsolved — embody a form of modern confrontation that requires no declaration of war and leaves no clear enemy to face. Berlin has pointed toward Moscow in at least one case, severing diplomatic ties and closing cultural institutions, yet attribution remains elusive across most incidents. What Germany is learning, painfully and in real time, is that the infrastructure of modern life was never built to withstand the ambiguity of hybrid warfare.
Germany woke this year to a threat that arrives without uniforms or declarations — and in early September, it arrived in a rush. Within four days, unknown assailants struck a power supply near a Brandenburg coal plant, brought down a substation outside Cologne, detonated a hand grenade near Augsburg's railway station, and hurled incendiary devices at a Munich construction site adjacent to defense contractors. Two Bulgarian nationals were arrested in connection with the Munich incidents. The rest remain unsolved.
These were not aberrations. Internal documents reviewed by German media show the Federal Criminal Police Office has recorded 160 potential sabotage acts against critical infrastructure this year, alongside more than 700 suspicious drone sightings. The targets — power plants, rail networks, defense facilities — are too numerous and dispersed to fully fortify.
The anxiety is personal as well as political. Berlin residents described a low-level unease that few speak about openly. That unease has a diplomatic dimension too: in August, the German government publicly attributed a drone attack on Halle/Leipzig Airport to Russian actors. Interior and foreign ministers appeared before cameras to confirm it. Germany shuttered Russia's consulate in Bonn and ended the lease on the Russian House in Berlin; Moscow closed the Goethe-Institut in return. Relations between the two countries have reached their lowest point in years.
The backdrop is significant. Since Russia's full-scale invasion of Ukraine in 2022, Germany has been among Kyiv's most committed supporters, providing financial and military aid while rapidly rearming its own Bundeswehr. Chancellor Friedrich Merz has described Germany's position with unsettling precision: neither at peace nor at war. Security experts call it hybrid warfare — strategic disruption through sabotage and disinformation rather than conventional force.
Attribution, however, is rarely clean. A cable bridge attack in southwest Berlin caused a multi-day power outage that left hundreds of thousands without heat in freezing temperatures. That case remains open, with suspicion falling on far-left extremists rather than foreign states. The uncertainty is itself a weapon.
Germany has passed the KRITIS law to strengthen infrastructure protection, though it has not yet taken effect. Officials are candid that government cannot carry this burden alone — cultural resistance to mass surveillance limits what police can do, and the sheer scale of vulnerable infrastructure demands that private operators invest in their own defenses. The technical means exist. What has been lacking, experts say, is the sustained willingness to spend. Germany is learning to inhabit a new kind of normal: persistent, low-intensity threat, with no clear end in sight.
Germany woke up to a new kind of threat this year—one that arrives without declaration, without uniforms, without the clarity of traditional conflict. In the span of four days in early September, the country experienced a cascade of attacks on its most vital systems. On a Tuesday morning, unknown assailants targeted the power supply near a coal-fired plant in Brandenburg. That same evening, a substation outside Cologne went down in what authorities believe was sabotage. Wednesday brought an explosion near Augsburg's railway station, triggered by a hand grenade. Thursday saw incendiary devices hurled at a construction site in Munich close to defense contractors, followed by a suspicious object discovered at a power substation in Dormagen. Two suspects, reportedly Bulgarian nationals, were arrested in connection with the Munich incidents, but the others remain unsolved.
These were not isolated incidents. According to internal documents reviewed by German media, the Federal Criminal Police Office has recorded 160 potential acts of sabotage targeting critical infrastructure so far this year, alongside more than 700 suspicious drone sightings. The targets tell a story: power plants, railway networks, defense contractors, facilities essential to national security. What makes them nearly impossible to defend is their sheer number and dispersal across the country. You cannot fortify everything.
The rapid succession of attacks has created a palpable anxiety in German cities. When Deutsche Welle spoke to residents on Berlin streets, the fear was immediate and personal. One woman described feeling uneasy, troubled by the constant low-level threat that few people seemed willing to discuss openly. A man with close ties to Russia expressed the particular pain of watching relations between the two countries collapse. That collapse is real and recent. In August, the German government announced it was convinced Russian actors were behind a drone attack on Halle/Leipzig Airport. Interior Minister Alexander Dobrindt and Foreign Minister Johann Wadephul appeared before cameras to confirm it. Germany responded by closing Russia's consulate general in Bonn and ending the lease on the Russian House in Berlin. Moscow retaliated by shutting down the Goethe-Institut in Moscow. Relations between the two countries have frozen to their lowest point in years.
The context matters. Since Russia's full-scale invasion of Ukraine in spring 2022, Germany has been among Ukraine's strongest supporters, providing both financial and military aid. The Bundeswehr, after decades of downsizing, has undergone rapid rearmament. Chancellor Friedrich Merz captured the strange liminal space Germany now occupies: "We are no longer at peace, but neither are we at war." Sönke Marahrens, a colonel in the German armed forces and security expert at Kiel University, calls this hybrid warfare—foreign states pursuing strategic interests through sabotage, disinformation, and infrastructure attacks rather than conventional military means. It is a form of confrontation that Germans must prepare for, he argues, regardless of who is ultimately responsible.
But attribution remains murky. Not every attack points to Russia. Earlier this year, a cable bridge in southwest Berlin was sabotaged, causing a power outage that lasted days and left hundreds of thousands without heat during freezing temperatures. That attack remains unsolved, though suspicion has fallen on far-left extremists. The uncertainty itself is part of the threat.
Germany has begun to respond legislatively. This spring, the government passed the KRITIS law, designed to strengthen protection of critical infrastructure, though it has not yet taken effect. But officials acknowledge that the burden of defense cannot fall on government alone. Herbert Reul, interior minister of North Rhine-Westphalia, noted that Germany's sensitivity to mass surveillance and data protection limits what police can do. The responsibility, he argued, lies with the operators themselves. Heiko Teggatz, chairman of the German Police Union, agreed: companies must invest in their own security rather than expecting police to guard every facility. The technical capability exists. What is missing, Teggatz said, is the consistent willingness to spend the money.
What emerges is a picture of a country learning to live with persistent, low-intensity threat—not war, not peace, but something in between. The attacks may continue. The perpetrators may remain unknown. And Germany must adapt to a reality in which critical infrastructure, by its nature, cannot be entirely protected.
Citations marquantes
Hybrid warfare relies on sabotage, disinformation, and attacks on critical infrastructure—foreign states pursuing strategic interests without resorting to diplomacy.— Sönke Marahrens, colonel in German armed forces and security expert at Kiel University
What is lacking is not technical capability but a consistent willingness to invest in protecting facilities.— Heiko Teggatz, chairman of the German Police Union
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