In the aftermath of the AfD's commanding 43.8 percent victory in Saxony-Anhalt's state election, Germany's Turkish community finds itself weighing an ancient and painful question: whether a place that once offered belonging can still be trusted to do so. The result has stirred not only fear among migrants and business owners in the east, but a deeper reckoning about the health of German democracy itself — one that community leaders insist cannot be reduced to an immigration dispute alone. As initial panic gives way to cautious observation, the harder work of understanding what conditions allow
Turkish Germans fear AfD surge will threaten communities and democracy
Turkish migrants and business owners face increased anxiety and potential displacement from Saxony-Anhalt due to rising nationalist sentiment.
This is a generally anti-democratic development, and we must act to counter it
Mark
So business owners are actually leaving, or are they just thinking about it?
Mimi
The initial reaction was panic—some were genuinely considering shutting down and going. But Sofuoglu said that's cooled off. Now they're waiting to see what government actually forms, what policies actually get implemented.
Luke
That's an important distinction. We don't have numbers on how many are actually leaving or have left. We have anecdotal evidence of people considering it. That's real, but it's not the same as a documented exodus.
Mark
Why does Sofuoglu say this is about democracy, not just about migrants?
Mimi
He's arguing that the AfD's real target is Germany's constitution, not immigration policy. The party campaigns against migrants, but that's the surface. The deeper threat is to democratic institutions themselves.
Luke
That's his interpretation, and it's worth taking seriously. But the source doesn't give us evidence of what the AfD actually intends to do with constitutional power. We're relying on Sofuoglu's reading of the party's aims.
Mark
Sümer seems to think banning the AfD would make things worse. How does that work?
Mimi
He's saying if you ban a party, you don't eliminate the people or the ideas behind it. They just reorganize into new parties or underground movements. And that fragmentation might actually make things harder to track and counter.
Luke
That's a plausible argument, but it's also speculative. We don't have historical precedent from Germany itself on what happens if the AfD is banned. Sümer is making a prediction based on theory, not on documented outcomes.
Mark
What does Irmak think is really driving the AfD's success?
Mimi
She points to government failure—established parties not addressing what citizens actually need. Saxony-Anhalt has an aging population, a shortage of young people and workers. The AfD doesn't solve that, but it filled the space where other parties didn't.
Luke
Again, that's a diagnosis, not a proof. We don't have data on whether AfD voters are primarily motivated by economic grievance or by other factors. Irmak is offering one explanation, but the source doesn't give us polling or research to confirm it's the main driver.
Mark
How many Turkish people are actually in Saxony-Anhalt?
Mimi
About 6,120. Out of a state population of 2.1 million. So they're a very small minority.
Luke
Which is worth noting because it means the Turkish community's concerns about the AfD aren't driven by being a large voting bloc that the party is targeting. They're a small group watching a much larger political shift happen around them.
Il Polso
- A 43.8% AfD victory in Saxony-Anhalt sent immediate shockwaves through Turkish business communities, with some owners openly discussing shutting down and leaving Germany entirely.
- The alarm is not only personal — community leaders warn the AfD's rise threatens Germany's constitutional order itself, invoking the memory of the neo-Nazi NSU's decade-long murder campaign against immigrants.
- Initial panic has cooled into a tense waiting game, as many business owners hold off on decisions until a governing coalition forms and actual policy directions become clear.
- Experts caution that banning the AfD would likely drive its most extreme members underground, making the threat harder to track and Germany more hostile to migrants in the long run.
- Beneath the electoral result lies a structural crisis — an aging, shrinking Saxony-Anhalt population, unmet economic needs, and a failure by mainstream parties that created fertile ground for far-right growth.
- With only around 6,000 Turkish-origin residents in a state of 2.1 million, the community is small but acutely exposed, watching to see whether political shift translates into lived danger.
In the aftermath of the AfD's commanding 43.8 percent victory in Saxony-Anhalt's state election, Germany's Turkish community finds itself weighing an ancient and painful question: whether a place that once offered belonging can still be trusted to do so. The result has stirred not only fear among migrants and business owners in the east, but a deeper reckoning about the health of German democracy itself — one that community leaders insist cannot be reduced to an immigration dispute alone. As initial panic gives way to cautious observation, the harder work of understanding what conditions allowed this moment to arrive remains largely unbegun.
When the AfD claimed 43.8 percent of the vote in Saxony-Anhalt's state election, the tremor reached well beyond the ballot boxes. For Turkish business owners and workers in Germany's eastern states — where the party's strength runs deepest — the result posed an immediate and personal question: stay, or go.
Gökay Sofuoglu, co-chair of the Turkish Community in Germany, described an initial wave of genuine alarm. Some business owners spoke openly of closing up and leaving — first the state, then the country. That spike of fear has since settled into something more measured. Many have decided to wait and see what government forms, what policies follow. But Sofuoglu was clear that the concern runs deeper than economic calculation. He framed the AfD's rise as a threat to Germany's constitutional order itself — not merely a migrant issue, but an anti-democratic development that implicates everyone. The shadow of the National Socialist Underground, the neo-Nazi cell that murdered nine immigrants and a police officer over more than a decade, looms over those fears.
Alaz Sümer, a lawyer and PhD researcher on far-right movements who came to Germany nine years ago, urged against easy responses. Declaring the AfD dangerous, he said, changes nothing. The real question is what failures — by established parties, by economic policy, by institutions — allowed the party to grow so strong. A woman named Irmak, who moved to Leipzig twelve years ago, was unsurprised. The ground for extremism had been prepared long before election day, she said, by governments that left citizens' needs unmet. Even a change in power would not resolve Saxony-Anhalt's deeper problems: an aging population, a shortage of workers, a state hollowing out from within.
Sümer also warned against calls to ban the AfD outright. A banned party, he argued, would simply reconstitute itself — and its most radical members might disappear into harder-to-monitor networks, making Germany more dangerous, not less. The answer, he insisted, lies in engaging with AfD voters to understand what drives them, and in recognizing that racism in Germany is older and larger than any single party.
Saxony-Anhalt's Turkish-origin population numbers only around 6,120 in a state of 2.1 million — a small community, but one watching closely to see whether a political result becomes a lived reality of pressure, displacement, and fear.
The Alternative for Germany party's capture of 43.8 percent of the vote in Saxony-Anhalt's state election sent a tremor through the country's Turkish communities, particularly in the eastern states where the party's strength is most concentrated. For business owners and workers of Turkish descent, the result raised an immediate and visceral question: whether to stay or leave.
Gökay Sofuoglu, co-chair of the Turkish Community in Germany, described the initial reaction among business owners in Saxony-Anhalt as one of genuine alarm. Some were talking openly about shutting down their operations and departing—first the state, then the country entirely. That panic, however, has begun to settle into something more measured. Sofuoglu said that after initial conversations, many of these owners have decided to wait. They want to see what government actually forms, what policies actually emerge. The emotional spike is giving way to a harder calculation about whether the threat is immediate or merely possible.
Yet the concern runs deeper than economic self-interest. Sofuoglu framed the AfD's rise not primarily as a migrant issue but as a threat to German democracy itself. He argued that while the party campaigns relentlessly against immigration, its real target is Germany's constitutional order. Many people of Turkish origin, he acknowledged, experience the election result as a direct threat to their own safety and belonging. But Sofuoglu insisted the issue transcends any single community. "Much as the rise of the AfD affects us, this is a generally anti-democratic development," he said, positioning the Turkish community's stake in the outcome as part of a broader democratic struggle.
The fear extends to the possibility of escalating violence. Sofuoglu pointed to the yearslong terror campaign carried out by the National Socialist Underground, a neo-Nazi cell that murdered nine immigrants and a police officer over more than a decade. The concern is not abstract: that such attacks could resume, and that their origins might remain obscured or unaddressed.
Alaz Sümer, a lawyer working with migrant communities in Berlin and a PhD researcher on far-right political movements, pushed back against what he saw as surface-level responses to the AfD's success. Simply declaring the party dangerous, he argued, accomplishes nothing. The real work requires understanding why the AfD became strong in the first place—what conditions, what failures by established parties, what unmet needs allowed it to flourish. Sümer came to Germany nine years ago to study and now advises migrants on credential recognition. He has watched the political landscape shift. "Saying 'the AfD is bad, the AfD is dangerous' is the easy way," he said. "We already know that."
Irmak, a woman who moved to Leipzig twelve years ago and asked not to be identified by her real name, was unsurprised by the result. The far right's strong showing was predictable, she said—but so was the ground that prepared it. Government policies had failed to address citizens' needs, creating the conditions for extremism to take root. She noted that even a change in government would not solve Saxony-Anhalt's structural problems: the state has an aging population and a persistent shortage of workers and young people. The AfD's rise does nothing to address that reality.
Sümer warned against what many have called for: banning the AfD outright. Such a move, he argued, would likely backfire. A banned party would simply be replaced by a new one, and its most extreme members might migrate into less visible, harder-to-monitor organizations. That outcome would make Germany even more hostile to migrants. Instead, Sümer said, Germany's other parties need to engage with AfD voters to understand what drives them. The problem of racism in Germany, he emphasized, is larger than any single party and predates the AfD's rise.
The numbers provide context. Saxony-Anhalt has roughly 2.1 million people. About 249,000 of them—just over 10 percent—have a migration background. Among those, only 6,120 are of Turkish origin. Across all of Germany, there are approximately 3 million people of Turkish descent. The Turkish community in Saxony-Anhalt is small, but its members are watching closely to see whether the state's political shift will translate into concrete pressure on their ability to work, build businesses, and live without fear.
Citazioni salienti
After the AfD's success, some were thinking of shutting up shop and leaving, first Saxony-Anhalt, then Germany— Gökay Sofuoglu, co-chair of the Turkish Community in Germany
Saying 'the AfD is bad, the AfD is dangerous' is the easy way. We already know that. You have to think about the causes.— Alaz Sümer, lawyer and PhD researcher on far-right politics
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