Germany's far-right AfD seeks historic first state power in eastern election

Germany faces a threshold this weekend that has not been crossed since the Second World War ended. In Saxony-Anhalt, a state in the country's east, voters will decide whether to hand the Alternative für Deutschland—the AfD—an outright majority in the regional parliament. If they do, a far-right party will hold state-level power in Germany for the first time in the post-war era, a rupture in the political order that has held for nearly eight decades.

The AfD's rise in the east has been built on grievances that feel immediate and real to many voters: immigration, crime, economic stagnation, energy costs, and the sense that Berlin sends money abroad—to Ukraine, for instance—while ordinary people struggle at home. Nostalgia for the past mingles with anger at the present. The party's lead candidate in Saxony-Anhalt, Ulrich Siegmund, a 35-year-old who Der Spiegel has called "Germany's Most Dangerous Man," has dominated the campaign narrative. He appears frequently in social media posts surrounded by supporters, sometimes astride a vintage East German scooter, projecting an image of charisma and connection. Some voters say he has given them hope for radical change. Others, less certain about the party itself, say they have simply lost faith in the mainstream parties that have governed for decades.

What the AfD proposes for Saxony-Anhalt, if it gains power, is deeply controversial. The party's manifesto calls for segregating refugee children into separate classes, with the explicit message that their presence in Germany is temporary. It opposes what it describes as the aggressive promotion of "sexual deviations and non-reproductive lifestyles," and wants to ban LGBT rainbow flags from schools. The party also proposes teaching children less about the Nazi period and more about what it frames as positive aspects of German history. On immigration, an AfD government would establish a task force to detain and deport migrants without legal status, and would end what the party calls "illegal, culturally alien" mass migration. These positions have alarmed opponents across the political spectrum.

The party's relationship with Russia has also drawn scrutiny. Hans-Thomas Tillschneider, a leading AfD figure in Saxony-Anhalt, was photographed with a Russian army mug in his office; he dismissed it as a souvenir and said "it's not our war." This came as Berlin publicly blamed Moscow for a failed drone attack on Leipzig/Halle Airport earlier this week—a claim the Kremlin denied. German security services have warned that Russian-backed disinformation campaigns, often targeting AfD rivals, have been intensifying. Moscow's representatives have characterized these warnings as "anti-Russian hysteria."

The AfD remains officially classified as right-wing extremist in Saxony-Anhalt. Domestic intelligence has charged the state branch with harboring a "racist ideology" and anti-constitutional aims. At one AfD rally, observers spotted a man wearing a shirt reading "Arisch"—the German word for Aryan that the Nazis invoked in their pseudoscientific racial theories. The man refused to speak to reporters, and it remains unclear whether he was a party member, a supporter, or simply an attendee. The AfD itself rejects comparisons to National Socialism and dismisses the extremism designation as a politicized smear, describing itself instead as a conservative, libertarian movement.

All other German parties have maintained what is known as the Brandmauer—the firewall—refusing to enter coalition with the AfD. This means the party cannot govern unless it wins an outright majority. In Saxony-Anhalt, the question is no longer whether the firewall will crack; it is whether the AfD can bypass it altogether. That outcome depends partly on whether smaller parties clear the five-percent threshold needed to enter parliament, which would fragment the opposition vote. Ulrich Siegmund has not ruled out dismantling the state's domestic intelligence agency if the AfD wins.

State governments in Germany hold substantial power over education, policing, and culture. Their representatives also sit in the Bundesrat, the federal second chamber, giving them influence over national legislation. An AfD victory in Saxony-Anhalt would grant the party both local governing authority and a louder voice in Berlin. The party is strongest in the former communist east, but it is also leading in nationwide polls—a fact that has unsettled the political establishment despite warnings that the AfD has transformed from a Eurosceptic party founded in 2013 into one that attracts and flirts with extremist support.

Chancellor Friedrich Merz, the conservative CDU leader, has been weakened by the AfD's rise. He pledged to halt the far right's advance, yet the opposite has occurred. Booed at recent public appearances, he is hardly seen as an electoral asset, and rumors persist about whether he can complete his term. If the AfD wins decisively this weekend, it will face a test it has never encountered: the burden of governing. Grievances can still be directed at Berlin, but the party will no longer be able to rail solely against those in power—because it will be in power itself. Saxony-Anhalt is a relatively small state by population, but the election unfolding there carries weight that extends far beyond its borders.