Schulze's uphill battle to block AfD from leading German state

Sven Schulze repeats the same line at nearly every campaign stop in Saxony-Anhalt: "It's far from decided." The crowds rarely cheer. They have reason for skepticism. The Alternative for Germany—the AfD, classified by the country's domestic intelligence agency as "confirmed right-wing extremist"—is polling above 40 percent in the eastern state. Schulze's Christian Democratic Union sits at around 23 percent. On September 6, voters will decide whether the AfD becomes the first far-right party since World War II to lead a German state government. The world is watching.

Schulze, 47, is the youngest of Germany's 16 state premiers. He is a qualified industrial engineer, a father of three, and a cyclist who has been spotted pedaling through towns in jersey and helmet, handing out ice cream on hot days and talking to small groups of voters. He took over the state leadership in late January, when his predecessor Reiner Haseloff—then 71 and in office for nearly 15 years—stepped aside. The timing was deliberate: a sitting premier traditionally enjoys what political strategists call an "incumbency bonus." Schulze needs every advantage he can find. Saxony-Anhalt has 2 million inhabitants, and he is fighting for each one.

His strategy rests on a mathematical hope: if the AfD falls short of 50 percent, it cannot secure a majority in the state parliament alone. No other party has signaled willingness to form a coalition with the far-right party. That would leave the door open for Schulze to assemble a coalition of his own—possibly with as many as three partners—and remain in office. "We are fighting for every single voter right now," he told Deutsche Welle on August 7. It is a narrow path, and he knows it.

Schulze has also worked to distance himself from Chancellor Friedrich Merz, whose popularity in Germany is low. At campaign events, he has made a point of saying he is not there "to sell the Berlin government's ideas to Saxony-Anhalt," but rather "to bring issues from Saxony-Anhalt to Berlin." This message—a subtle rebuke of federal leadership—has not necessarily pleased everyone in Merz's government. On healthcare and elderly care, Schulze has refused to simply adopt recommendations from a federal commission without local debate, directly contradicting Merz's insistence that those recommendations be followed exactly. Some of those recommendations, observers note, contain cuts to public services.

Schulze's most successful campaign moments have come alongside Dieter Hallervorden, a 91-year-old actor and comedian born in Dessau, a household name in Germany. Hallervorden, not previously known as a CDU supporter, has appeared with Schulze four times. The venues filled. At one event, Hallervorden performed music while an image of protesters bearing a banner reading "Stop the genocide in Gaza" briefly appeared in the background. Hallervorden also criticized the federal government's defense and arms export policies. Party headquarters in Berlin objected sharply. Schulze responded calmly: he did not share all of Hallervorden's views, he said, but had shared the stage to demonstrate his commitment to freedom of speech—something the AfD, he noted, seeks to abolish.

Dessau is home to the Bauhaus, the movement that revolutionized art and architecture beginning in 1919. The Nazis tried to suppress it when they took power in 1933. Last year, AfD representative Hans-Thomas Tillschneider described Bauhaus in a state parliament speech as a "wrong track of modernism"—a direct quotation from a 1928 book called "Art and Race" by architecture critic Paul Schultze-Naumburg, whose ideas influenced Nazi thought. Schulze has seized on this and similar statements to argue that the AfD wants to return Germany to its darkest periods. He has also tied the party to East Germany's communist dictatorship, noting that AfD members sing the old East German anthem at the end of party events. "When the AfD sings the GDR anthem at the end of its party events, it shows exactly what it wants: a return to the days of the GDR," he told Deutsche Welle. "And I do not want us to wall ourselves in again, as happened here before. That is not what the people want."

At campaign events, Schulze has tried to steer conversation away from federal or global politics and toward local concerns. He points to businesses in Saxony-Anhalt that depend on foreign workers and export to markets around the world. He emphasizes that the state's future depends on remaining open, competitive, and connected to the wider world. "I trust the people here," he said. He has vowed to keep discussing the issues that matter to them, and has warned against allowing the state to be "turned upside down." At times, he strips away the nuance entirely. "This election," he says, "boils down to Sven Schulze or the AfD." On September 6, Saxony-Anhalt will decide which future it wants.